Batman
Just as everything seems to unravel, Joke-Man pulls taught this mystery. It’s been too long since this whole mess started and I’m no closer to ending it now than when it began. Joker is still out in the city wreaking havoc somewhere; I’ve gathered that it’s my allies that he wants dead this time. I don’t have a single bit of solid evidence with which to pinpoint the identity of Joke-Man. Above all, Gotham City is left protected by only the few remaining police after Joke-Man’s destruction of Gotham Central.
I’ve been so busy that I’ve slacked off of my duties as Gotham’s protector as of late. Standing across from where I sit, Oliver Queen (the Green Arrow) sharpens his arrows. I’ve resorted to outside help to keep my city standing. Dick and Tim are standing to my right, and Alfred is to my left. I called everyone here tonight. Barbara is even present via video relay on the monitor to my back.
“We need to take a step back and take a better look at this mess,” I say, standing up and pulling my cowl off of my head. “We’re all getting in over our heads. When this all started, we dove in quick to fix the problem. Doing that, we went in blind. We weren’t ready for what met us. I want to take aside this time to develop a strategy, so that, when we get back to work, we will no longer be flying blind.”
Oliver is the first to speak up.
“Listen, Bruce. I’ve been workin’ this town for ya for the last few days, and I’d like to take this time aside to say: I have a whole new level of respect for what you do,” he laughs, putting the last of his arrows back into his quiver.
“I appreciate the compliment, Oliver. You’re playing an important role in keeping this city off of its knees. Now,” I say, turning my attention towards the monitor, “Oracle, I need you to give everyone a run around of what exactly we’re up against.”
Dick interrupts, as always.
“Don’t we all know what’s going on? Joker’s out gallivanting again (this time trying to kill Tim and me) and Joke-Man’s killing everyone else.”
“Thanks, Dick,” Barbara says, emphasizing his name in an insulting way. “You’re little interruption should save me some talking.”
“No problem.”
“At any rate…True, we all know the situation. Hopefully, though, I can provide some details that we may have overlooked. Here we go…” Barbara adjusts her glasses and punches some images up on the monitor. “It was exactly a month ago that Bruce held the Midnight Policemen’s Ball. On that night, Joker attacked Wayne Manor, killing more than a dozen of Gotham’s not-so-finest. It was with the aid of Detective Robert Church that Batman brought down Joker. With the Joker being humiliated, he wanted revenge on Church. He got it a couple weeks later when he killed the entire Church family. Ever since that time, Robert Church has been missing. A week and a half later, Joke-Man breaks onto the scene and kills Mayor Webster. Two nights later, he kidnaps Tim and uses him as Joker bait. Joker, in the mean time, had set targets on all of our heads. A few nights later, Joke-Man broke into my father’s home and blew up Gotham Central. The next day, Joker beat up and kidnapped Dick. A couple days later, Dick got free, Tim showed up dressed as Joke-Man, and we all got a surprise when Batman turned out to be Clayface. Did I miss anything?”
‘Yes,” Alfred speaks up, “you’d forgotten to mention when Joke-Man destroyed Thomas Wayne Elementary. A very personal strike if you ask me.”
“Brick and mortar can be replaced;” I say sullenly, “the lives of Officers Mason and Cotner can not.”
“I think we’re all forgetting one other thing,” Tim says. “When Joker broke out of Arkham a lot of the other inmates also got free. So far, they haven’t made much of a ruckus. Though, how long can we expect them to stay quiet?”
“A very good point,” I say. “Though, you’re wrong; they’ve not stayed quiet. We know that Joke-Man is working with the escaped Arkham inmates. Already he’s been seen with the Ventriloquist and Clayface. Tim, you’ve been closer to him than any of us; is there anything you can tell us?”
“No. Like you, he plays things very close to the chest. The most I know is that he is definitely disturbed. The whole time I was with him, he seemed very kind, but from the other accounts he seems like a monster. Perhaps he’s bipolar or has multiple personalities. “
“Or, he could be neither,” I suggest. “With the lack of evidence provided, Joke-Man seems to do very a good job of covering his tracks. Robert Church, the most likely suspect, does not have the ability to hide himself in this manor. I’ve read his file; he doesn’t have nearly the amount of training needed to pull all of this off.”
“Maybe you’re just jealous?” Dick suggests.
“Or, maybe there isn’t only one Joke-Man.”
This suggestion sends a shock through the group. No one’s jaw drops, and no one gasps in astonishment, but the idea has rung through them.
“So, we may be dealing with more than one guy here?” Oliver asks.
“We may very well be,” I repeat. “There is so much going on that drawing a conclusion seems impossible. At the same time, there are a number of suspects to which assumption points.”
“A finished jigsaw puzzle without the corner pieces,” Alfred enthuses.
“Precisely. We have to ask ourselves: who benefits?”
“One: Church wants Joker dead after what he did to his family,” Dick says, counting off on his fingers. “Two: Charlie Parker was a close friend of the Church family and would also want revenge against Joker. Three: It could be any one of the escaped Arkham inmates. We all know the reputation Joker has amongst that group. Four: Some newbie that also had his family killed by Joker. Five:-”
“That’s the problem right there,” I point out.
“What? That I use slang?”
“No. We’ve been searching for the more recent and more obvious suspects.”
“Yeah,” Tim says, “Who’s to say that Joke-Man isn’t someone entirely different from who we expect? For all we know, Robert Church may have thrown himself off of a bridge. The police wouldn’t be looking for his body because they’re assuming he’s not dead after Parker’s account.”
“That’s why we’re here tonight. We’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve been flying blind. We’ve been on the defensive for the entirety of this case.”
“Wait,” Oliver barks in. “Are you saying we need to go on the offensive?”
“Exactly.”
“Bitchin’! Time for a real fight!”
Tim seems skeptical.
“How do we go on the offensive exactly?”
“Joke-Man has been playing head games with us for too long. I’m sick of it. From this point on, nothing short of the loss of human life will stop us from bringing Joke-Man down. Any method we can use, we use it to get into Joke-Man’s head.”
“So, what do we do?” Dick asks.
“Joke-Man’s mission, despite his destruction of the city, is to kill Joker.”
“We play the wild card,” Oracle remarks, already realizing my notion.
“There’s a lose end then,” Tim adds. “Joke-Man was hoping to use me as Joker bait. What’s going to happen to Joke-Man’s plan when Joker doesn’t show up next week?”
What I’m thinking conspires against this group, but is a necessary deed to prevent more carnage in this city. I spout some words to put Tim’s confidences in lies.
“More than likely," I answer, “He’s hoping to keep word from spreading. If Joker still thinks that you’ve been kidnapped, then Joke-Man can use a decoy.”
“Okay, but how will he stop word from spreading?”
“Like you said, he’s smarter than we’re giving him credit for. That and he may have some connections. If he uses the same tools that he’s been using, then he can easily keep Joker fooled.”
“So, what now?” Oliver asks.
“Now, we play the head games.”
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Commissioner James Gordon
I have to say that I’m a little confused by the current situation that I’m in. As of late, Joker has been dreadfully quiet due to the fact that he’s been plotting against Batman’s partners. So quiet in fact that it’s kept me up nights worrying about when Joker’s going to make his big move.
So, one could understand why I would be confused to see Joker standing on top of an ice cream truck in Gotham Central Plaza threatening to poison Gotham’s children with “tasty frozen treats.”
“No fooling here kiddos! Come on down and get a snack! Don’t worry! Uncle J doesn’t bite…not hard. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” Joker laughs, dancing about on top of the ice cream truck.
I, and what men I have left, watch this scene unfold with the utmost displeasure from behind a large statue. For one, the Joker is all around the most aggravating criminal in all of Gotham. Secondly, it’s annoying to watch the clown as he fails in any attempt to draw in children. Many children have passed by the truck, but not a single one has been foolish enough to take part in Joker’s ploy.
“Come on! No one! Really! This ice cream is made of 100%, pure refined dairy and Joker venom! I tell ya, it’s a killer! Ha! Ha!”
This is just plain sad. If Joker really wanted someone to take that ice cream, then he wouldn’t be announcing how dangerous it is. He’s being too stupid. That being why I’m here, in case this is all just a build up to something bigger.
“Well, you kids just don’t know what you’re missing.” Joker reaches into his jacket. “I guess I’ll have to spice up this party a little.”
When Joker’s hand comes back out, he’s holding what is clearly a detonator. Waving it in the air like it’s an ice cream cone that was just bought for him, Joker jumps down from top the truck and grabs a child by the collar.
“That’s our cue,” I say, turning to Bullock. “We wait to see what he’s got planned. After that, fan out and set your sights.”
I turn back to the unfolding scene and wait for Joker to start his usual blabber. Normally, I’d find this scenario very unnerving, but something in Joker’s attitude doesn’t seem threatening. I sit back and wait.
“Since I can’t get you ankle-biters to kill yourselves (regrettable, no doubt), then I’ll simply have to kill you myself,” Joker says wickedly, struggling with the child in his arms. “Scattered across this plaza are twelve bombs set to release twelve clouds of Joker venom upon my pushing of this little-bitty button here. You can all try to run, but it’s not a path that I recommend taking. Also placed around the plaza are a series of mines which have carefully been disguised as stepping stones; I activated them two minutes ago. Should anyone try to leave this plaza, you be blown to tiny, little kiddy bits! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Dammit!
I knew there would be more to it. Now there are easily fifty plus children trapped in the plaza (their parents also), as well as a majority of the remaining police. It being the middle of the day, and factoring in that he’s probably busy elsewhere, Batman isn’t all that likely to show up. All past doubts about whether or not Joker was going to cause a problem today are gone.
I turn back to Bullock. He looks at me and shrugs; as always, he has deemed the situation impossible. There’s Harvey Bullock for you. Tough as an ox, but gutless ‘til the end.
“Oh, and should anyone get within smelling distance of me, then junior here isn’t going to get to see eleven. That means you, Gordon! Don’t think I can’t see you hiding behind that over-polished rock!”
Joker pulls a knife and puts it to the boy’s neck.
“Now, the only way anyone is going to get out of here alive is if I get what I want,” Joker muses, twirling the detonator in his hand nonchalantly.
Joker pauses as if waiting for someone to ask him what he wants. Typical Joker always wanting to make a show out of everything. Of course, we’ll be here all day if someone doesn’t speak up.
I’m just about to ask the question when someone does it for me.
“And what is it that you want, Joker?”
I look around. Standing on our cover statue, high above the ground is a sight for sore eyes. I was hoping for someone a little more familiar, but I take what I can get.
Standing high above the ground is Star City’s own Green Arrow, balancing on his bow in all his emerald glory. I don’t have too many run-ins with the other heroes in the world, so I’m a little star struck whenever someone else should make their way into Gotham. Frankly, I’m not wrong to be surprised; Batman doesn’t often allow his peers into this city.
“Well, if it isn’t Peter Pan. Tell me man-in-tights, where are the lost boys and Wendy?” Joker teases, cocking his brow.
“Funny. Answer the question, clown. You wanted it,” Arrow returns.
“All of you do-gooders are so pushy. Live every moment like it’s murder, don’t rush time! Ha! Ha!”
“Joker!”
“Fine! I had heard you were more of the light-hearted type, but I see that today you’re all business.”
“Spit it out!”
“Well, sick Cupid, what I want is for a certain someone to come down here and have a little chat with me.”
“Who exactly?”
“Well, I like to refer to him as the walking cliché,” Joker drags, “but he would call himself…Joke-Man.”
Joke-Man.
Even when he’s not around, that man finds a way to work his way into my life and torture me. Given, he’s not a direct cause of this mess, but he certainly has a hand in this. I just may hate Joke-Man more than any other individual on the planet right now. It’s for that reason that I punched the nearby statue upon the mention of his name and probably broke my hand.
“Really, Joker?” Arrow asks as he hops down from the top of the statue, landing gracefully on his feet. “You came out here to bother all of these people just so you could have a chat with some nut in a yellow motorcycle helmet?”
“A bit much, I’m sure, but I had to get his attention somehow,” Joker muses. “Quiet frankly, I had hoped that Batman would be here also. I want him to see me kill Joke-Man.”
“How can you be so sure that Joke-Man will show?”
“Well, I can’t quite frankly, but as long as I do something I’ll get to kill someone. That someone might even be you.”
Somethings wrong here. I’m getting that feeling about Joker again. After taking a closer look at him, something about him seems unfamiliar. Something in the way that he and Green Arrow are talking seems…rehearsed.
“I’ll tell ya what, Joker. You let that kid go, and I’ll let you take a chance at me,” Arrow offers.
“Please! As if killing a second rate liberal like you would write my name in history! I wanna get the big kill! I want a challenge!” Joker’s insults fly. “Frankly, I won’t get too much credit in the super villain world for killing the peanut butter guy.”
“Don’t think that you’re getting to me, Joker. You can’t play games with me.”
“Games? What kind of games? Monopoly? Parcheesi? Scrab-”
Out of nowhere, a bullet hits Joker’s hand, knocking away the detonator. Joker let’s go of his hostage and falls to the ground holding his bleeding hand. The child runs away to safety. At first I think it’s one of my men, but then a second shot hits Green Arrow, knocking him to the ground.
I look around quickly.
Across the plaza, walking through the “mines,” comes Joke-Man.
Immediately I realize that someone’s plans have gone very wrong. Joke-Man continues to move in towards Joker and Green Arrow, holding a revolver in each hand. Part of me wants to just go over there and strangle him to death. Another part of me wants to wait and see what happens.
Joke-Man reaches Joker and kicks him in the ribs.
“Bravo, ‘Joker. ’ You’ve done a stupendous job of entertaining all of the lovely children and their parents,” Joke-Man says with an air of heavy sarcasm.
Joke-Man turns to the people, all of whom have been kneeling on the ground for the last ten minutes or more.
“As you all can see, the so-called mines are nothing but a ruse. You may all feel free to exit the plaza. As for the Joker venom, it was nothing more than tear gas. I’ve taken the liberty of disarming the bombs.”
What the hell is going on here?
Joke-Man looks my way.
“Commissioner Gordon! I’m so glad that you are here! For once, my friend, this joke was not mine!”
“I’m no friend of yours!” I shout across the plaza.
“Yes, I suppose not; it is a point you’ve made very clear.”
Joke-Man turns to Green Arrow, who is getting up off of the ground.
“You I was not expecting. I can’t say I’m too fond of your being here.”
Joke-Man fires another three rounds off into Green Arrow’s chest. Arrow drops back down to the ground. He’s clearly not dead, a fact that is attributed to bullet-proof material that any mortal man would need to do what these heroes do.
“Though, I am expecting someone else,” Joke-Man continues as people start to flee from the plaza, “and he’s been listening the whole time.”
What?
“If you’d care to end the theatrics,” Joke-Man says with a wicked chuckle, “I’d like to talk to you, Batman.”