Commissioner James Gordon
I hate situations like these, but I guess there’s going to be a lot more of them now that almost all of my men are gone. I’m standing outside Thomas Wayne Elementary, the rain slapping my face. There’s a mad man inside holding more than half of the school’s students hostage. It’s exactly 11 o’ clock pm, so the creep actually went through the trouble of rounding up all of the kids. I’ve been getting calls from parents all night, begging me to get their kids out of there. I wish it was that simple.
“I’m waitin’, Gordon! Where’s my money!” an angry voice shouts over the intercom.
“Maybe if you asked more nicely, Mr. Scarface?” a feeble voice suggest over the intercom.
“Shut up, Wesker! I don’t need yer damn advice!”
Arnold Wesker, the Ventriloquist.
He and his puppet, Scarface, have been terrorizing this town for as long as I can remember. Yet, they’ve been little more than simple annoyances up until now. Which begs the question: who’s really pulling the strings here? Wesker’s too small time to pull something like this off by himself.
“We’re not here to negotiate, Wesker!” I yell through a megaphone.
“Why are ya talkin’ to him?” Scarface yells, “I’m runnin’ this show!”
“It’s no matter! Scarface, I demand you let those children go!”
“You an’ what army? Ya got nothin’ ta back it up with, Gordon!”
I look at the few men and women that stand around me. I can’t argue with him on that. What with Batman working on the Joke-Man/Joker/Church case, I’ve got nowhere near the manpower I need to resolve this situation. Everyone looks back at me with the same clueless look on their faces, as if asking: “What do we do?”
I turn back to the building and stare, hoping an answer will show. It’s been so long since I’ve had to deal with these situations without Batman’s help. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes; I haven’t slept for days. I put my glasses back on and raise the megaphone to my mouth.
“Scarface, I’ve got four guns aimed at you and, if you don’t come out right now, I’ll have them fire on you.”
There is cackling laughter over the intercom.
“Nice try, Gordon! You don’t have a single sniper left on the force!”
I turn back to my men.
“It was worth a shot,” Foerg says, shrugging.
“No, that was depressingly desperate,” I sigh, taking a seat on the curb.
The men exchange glances. I’ve given up and now they don’t know who to turn to. I put my head between my legs, trying to concoct some kind of plan that will get those kids out of there alive. My mind is blank, so I turn back to my men.
“Any ideas?” I ask, gesturing towards them.
“Well, we could always just give ‘im the money,” Cotner suggests.
“Oh, shut up, Frank,” Mason snaps. “I say we rush the building. He’s in there by himself. All of those kids wouldn’t possibly fit into the office with him (which is probably where he’s announcing from). So, the kids are probably in the gym, or something. Why not just rush ‘im?”
“That won’t work,” Foerg interjects. “If the kids are in the gym, he’s probably got the place rigged and he’s probably got the detonator with him. The moment we enter the office: boom! Those kids are dead.”
I stand up and walk over to them. I look around the group and wait for other plans. After a few moments silence, I decide to throw my two cents back in.
“Okay, so he may have a bomb rigged in there. However, I highly doubt he’s got anyone watching the kids.”
“True, but Wayne made sure that there was security cameras installed throughout the whole school,” Foerg debates. “The monitors are probably in the office. So, we can’t get the kids out without him seeing us and we can’t rush him because he’ll blow up the kids.”
“This is all theoretical,” I argue. “Wesker hasn’t mentioned how it is that he’ll kill the hostages, or that he’ll kill them at all. We need to get someone in there to check things out; usually we’d leave that up to Batman, but he’s elsewhere.”
“I’ll go in,” Mason suggests.
“Fine. Mason, you go in and, Cotner, you follow him in.”
“What?” Cotner gripes. “Why me?”
“Because I don’t want to want to lose any more men than I need to right now. So, get in there, before I decide that I can make due with seven instead of eight.”
Cotner frowns and follows Mason into the school. I pat Foerg on the shoulder, letting him know that I appreciate his insight. I turn back to the school and wait for word from Cotner and Mason. Back when I was a just a sergeant, that would have been me going into that building. Now, I’m older and the last thing the force needs right now is to lose their leader.
“Ya still out there, Gordon!”
The sound of Scarface’s voice breaks all silence. I raise the megaphone back to my mouth.
“Yeah, I’m still here, Scarface.”
“Good, ‘cause here comes the first joke!”
The what?
Oh, no.
Not now.
Not here.
Joke-Man set this whole damn thing up. He told me this would happen, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon. That explains how Wesker got all of his hostages. That explains why Wesker was able to do this at all.
I tell the men to get to cover. They’re not exactly sure what’s going on, but they find cover and keep it. I open the door to the car nearest to me and kneel down behind it. I look around and see that everyone has drawn their guns, expecting a shootout.
After about a minute of waiting, I hear a buzz of static over my walkie-talkie followed by Mason’s voice.
“Hey, Commissioner, we’ve searched the entire building and the kids aren’t in here anywhere.”
“Mason, get out of there!”
“What-?”
In the same second as Mason mutters the word, the school erupts with flames. Chunks of debris fly in all directions, some hitting the door in front of me. Foerg rushes over to me and takes cover behind the door with me.
“What’s going on here, Commissioner?” Foerg asks.
I turn around and look up at the roof of the building opposite the school. There, I see exactly what I expect to see.
Arnold Wesker stands on the rooftop with a headset and Scarface wrapped around his right arm. Standing next to Wesker is Joke-Man; he’s clapping like this is all some kind of show.
“Commissioner, look at that!” Foerg exclaims, nudging me with his elbow.
I look back to the school and see fireworks shooting from the burning remains of the building. If the circumstances were different, I’d say the multi-colored flares of the fireworks were beautiful, but they just make me sick. I’ve just lost two more men.
Something occurs to me and I turn back to where Joke-Man stands, picking up my megaphone. Looking up there now, Wesker has already taken off. Why should he stick around? He did his part. I raise the megaphone and yell as loud as I can.
“Where are the children, Joke-Man?”
Foerg taps me on the shoulder and speaks into my ear.
“Commissioner, the kids weren’t in there. They were never taken.”
“Yes they were,” I say in a rage. “We got the calls from their parents.”
I turn back to Joke-Man and wait for my answer. Joke-Man raises a megaphone of his own.
“This was all an innocent joke, Commissioner,” he says, shrugging.
“’Innocent!’ Two men are dead and nearly 1000 children are missing! Where’s the innocence!”
“Commissioner, I used the simplest of tools in my ruse: a phonebook and a knack for skillful voice impersonations.”
The truth hits me a little hard.
“You faked the whole thing? Every one of those children that we thought were missing, they were all falsely reported by you?”
Joke-Man bows, leaning dangerously over the edge of the rooftop. He stands back straight and raises his megaphone.
“Thank you, thank you! No applause!”
“No one’s clapping down here, Joke-Man.”
“I don’t expect you to. Weren’t you listening? Yes, I pretended to be the children’s parents and reported that they’d been taken. Scarface agreed to write the ransom letter and lent his voice to the school’s intercom. I knew that eventually you’d send somebody into the school and that’s why I rigged it with the pretty fireworks.”
“This is your plan then? Kill off my men?”
“Nay, Commissioner. It’s just the first joke. It will all be clear by the time the third joke has been played.”
“What the hell is he talking about, Commissioner?” Foerg asks.
“I wish I knew,” I reply.
“So, Commissioner,” Joke-Man exclaims, beginning to pace, “what more will it take? Is it getting to you yet? Are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Joke-Man.”
“No? Well, you should be. You should be very afraid. What, with me lurking behind every corner, ready to spring a trap at any given moment. I would think that you’d take every step with careful consideration. I would think that you would be protecting the truly important things in your life.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Is this city’s protection really what you hold most dear? I would think that the life of young Barbara would be a very big priority.”
“You leave my daughter out of this, you bastard!”
“Words hurt, Commissioner. Besides, I knew my father…Everyone one of my jokes is designed to teach you a lesson. Tonight’s lesson: learn your priorities, Commissioner. This city is best left in the hands of your men, in the hands of its citizens, and in the hands of a certain vigilante. You should be with the ones that you love, because you never know when something could happen to them.”
His voice loses the sinister tone as he says the last sentence. Something has damaged this man and driven him over the edge. I only wish that I knew who he was so that I could try, in any way possible, to help him. Now, with everything he’s done, I can’t help but hate him, even if he’s been through Hell.
Joke-Man stops pacing and drops his megaphone from the edge of the building. My eyes follow it down and it hits the ground with a thundering crash. When I look back up, Joke-Man is gone. This man mystifies me. He’s as wickedly insane as Joker, but he moves like Batman, sneaking around in the shadows and disappearing in the blink of an eye. I hope Batman can nail this guy before he destroys the city.
I turn to Foerg. He has his pistol drawn and he stares at me, waiting for an order.
“Should we go after him, Commissioner?” he asks.
I just laugh.
“What? You think you can catch him?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Green Arrow
I’ve been watching this little scene here for about a half an hour or so. I suppose I should do a little less watch and a little more action, considering the amount of work I’ve got cut out for me. However, I want these guys to think that they’re gonna get away with it. I want them to grin and smile. I want them to feel on top of the world. I want them to feel untouchable.
Then, I’ll shatter their hopes.
These lowlifes have been loading stuff into their truck out of the back of this appliance store for the last half hour, thinking that no one is gonna stop ‘em. There’re not any more than six guys here. That’s cake, my friend, but, like I said, I want them to feel confident.
I don’t know exactly what’s goin g on with the whole Joke-Man thing, but the situation’s taking its toll on Batman. The way Oracle explained it Batman’s been working nonstop to find Joke-Man, Joker, and that Robert Church guy. Oracle seems to think that Church and this Joke-Man are one-in-the-same, but, if I know Batman, then he’ll want to find all of the evidence he can before he comes to that conclusion. From what I’ve heard evidence has been hard to find.
While I’ve been roosted up on the rooftop across from the appliance store, I’ve taken the time to get to know the crooks. There’re two guys standing next to the truck: I heard them called Tank and Fig. There’re two other guys that have been walking back and forth carrying boxes: Hook and Weasel. Also, from what I’ve overheard, they’re two guys watching the front of the store: Zing and Toucan. If those are these boys’ given names, then God have mercy on their mothers.
I really hate this to tell the truth. Working on someone else’s turf has always been kind of intimidating, especially when it’s Batman’s turf. I can’t be expected to live up to Batman’s fear-inspiring symbol. The best I can do is swoop in, kick ass, and take names. With Batman it’s sneak in the shadows, throw some shit, pounce out of the shadows, tie the guys up one by one, and leave it to the police to take the names. That’s not my style. I like my victims to see my pretty face while I’m kicking their asses.
Another five minutes or so go by and the guys are still loadin’ boxes. I don’t know about this. I shouldn’t wait too much longer, or they’ll get away with too much if I screw up. Not that I’m not confident about how this will turn out, but everyone messes up sometimes.
As I continue to watch, I see Weasel come out of the store with a box. Hook comes out after him empty-handed. Well, then they’re either done, or Hook’s just a lazy ass. No time to wait and find out.
Now or never.
I reach into my quiver and pull out two arrows. I place them both across the bow and pull them back. I take my aim at Tank and Fig. I want to hit them, but I don’t want to do any damage that can’t be fixed. I set my self up as needed and release the arrows.
Tank and Fig yell in pain as each arrow hits them both in their right legs.
Weasel quickly drops his box and reaches for his waist. Hook already has his gun drawn, searching the sky for the source of the arrows. Weasel draws his gun and fires random shots into the sky. I’d call him an idiot if I didn’t know what he was doin g. He’s signaling Zing and Toucan.
I don’t wait for them to see me. I attach a line to a pole on the rooftop behind me. Attaching the other end of the line to an arrow, I load it in and fire it across the alley into the outside wall of the appliance store. I put a hook over the line, grabbing hold and sliding down.
My feet hit the ground and I immediately go into action.
First, I kick the gun out of Hook’s hand. Weasel approaches with his gun from behind, but I quickly spin, grabbing his arm and twisting as hard as I can. The gun falls from Weasel’s hand and I punch him hard on the bridge of his nose. He goes down instantly.
Hook comes at me with a pipe clenched in his fists. He swings the pipe and misses as I duck. I bring back my fist and then straight punch him in the gut. The hit keels him over and, standing back straight, I kick him in the face while he’s bent over. Hook’s head flies back and his body follows. He soars into the side of a nearby dumpster, slumping to the ground on impact.
Out cold.
Tank and Fig, though down and wounded, have drawn their guns and have them pointed at me. Before they have the chance to fire, I leap at them and do a baseball slide, kicking them both in the head. I stand back up and brush myself off, staring down at Tank and Fig to make sure they’re out.
Not a second later, two behemoths step out of the back of the appliance store.
They both have muscles on their muscles and their both as tall as two of me put together. One of them has a large “Z” tattooed across his bare chest. The other has a rainbow’s worth of colors dyed in his hair.
Zing and Toucan I presume.
I may have gotten in a little over my head here. One of these guys alone looks like he could eat me, let alone the two of them. I’ve fought guys this size before, sure, but not two at the same time. Yeah, this could get messy.
“You’d better get gone, Peter Pan,” Toucan grumbles.
“Yeah,” Zing agrees, cracking his knuckles. “That is, if you wanna keep your face.”
Most people would ask themselves: “What would Jesus do?” I can’t help but wonder: “What would Batman do?” Thinking that way, I can’t help but feel that I should have acted sooner. I could have made my way around to the other side of the building and, with the element of surprise, taken these two out first.
That’s what Batman would have done.
Too bad I’m Green Arrow.
I do the only thing I can do. I whip out some arrows and show the sons of bitches what “Peter Pan” can do. Three arrows drive deep into Zing’s abdomen, while my fourth one sticks into Toucan’s right shoulder. Neither one is fazed.
All I did was make them angry.
Zing charges me first. Good. If they attack separately then I can take them out. I jump high into the air, just barely making it over Zing’s head. I kick backwards once I’m over him, hitting his skull with my feet. The action vaults me forward…
…right at Toucan.
Toucan reaches up with his frying pan of a hand and wraps it around my throat. My breathing is immediately cut off. I can feel the blood throbbing in my head as he squeezes harder and harder. I writhe and kick, trying to free myself, but it’s no use.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I reach for my belt and grab a large knife. I don’t use it often. I mostly like to use arrows and my fists. However, when it comes to times like these, a knife may be necessary. I bring the knife forward, but Toucan doesn’t notice; he keeps his eyes on me.
With one strong, quick swipe, I cut through Toucan’s wrist. Before I know it, I’m the ground with a dead hand wrapped around my throat, bleeding all over me. I toss the hand aside and look up to see Toucan yelling in pain and holding his arm. He’s bleeding all over the place.
I get up quickly. I run at Toucan, leaping into the air. I bring my fist together and, as I fall, bring them down on the base of Toucan’s skull. We both fall. Toucan hits the ground unconscious. I land gracefully on my feet.
In all of this, I forget abut Zing. I hear his massive weight stampeding towards me and I turn quickly. He‘s coming at me like an angry bull, blind with rage. I’d probably be mad too if someone just cut my best friend’s hand off. I don’t waste much time and I grab the pipe that Hook had swung at me, throwing it at Zing’s feet.
The monster trips and tumbles, falling right on his face.
Before he has a chance to get up, I tie his hands and feet together. I do the same with the others, paying extra attention to Toucan as I tightly tie a line around his severed arm to act as a tourniquet. After they’re all tied up, I observe my handy work. “Handy work.” Yeah, right. It took me more than half and hour to deal with six men. Granted, two of those six equaled, like, four others, but Batman could have taken out twenty men in less than three minutes.
I guess I should stop comparing myself to him. He trusted me to take care of this city and that’s what I need to do. I shouldn’t have to worry about whether or not I’m doing as good of job as him. At least I’m some help.
I grab a cellular phone from my belt and dial the number that Alfred set up for the cave. I put it to my ear and immediately hear the old man’s voice.
“Hard at work, or hardly working, Mr. Queen?” Alfred says sarcastically.
“Hardly working. Listen, I’ve got six guys tied up on the Upper East Side. One of them needs medical attention.”
“Yes?”
“So, what’s the drill here in Gotham?”
“Well, Master Bruce would usually contact Commissioner Gordon and have a pick up squad sent. However, that connection line is strictly between the two of them.”
“So, you’re saying we can’t call up Gordon?”
“Precisely. You could take the one with you and drop him off at a hospital. Though, I’m sure Oracle has a number at which you can reach her father.”
“I’ll go with the latter. I’ll get a hold of O and see if I can a get a number. Thanks, Alfred.”
“Not a problem.”
I hang up the phone and put it back on my belt. No way am I draggin Toucan’s ass all the way to a hospital. If I had a car like Batman’s, yeah, I’d do it, but I left my car back in Star City. My old lady’s gotta get around somehow.
I check Toucan’s arm one last time before I take off. The line stopped the bleeding, but he’s a little pale from what was lost. I grab his severed hand and toss it on top of him. What the hell do I know? He may want to keep it. Sure, I could just toss the damn thing in the dumpster and that would be the end of it, but who knows?
Well, that’s six down and about a million more to go. I’m glad now more than ever that I live in Star City. The crime rate there is no where near what it is here in Gotham. I’d never be able to do all of the work that Batman does. I’d hate to think what this city would be like without him.
That’s easy: It’d be Hell.