Shots
1: December
Taken from the notes of Harleen Quinzel
"Dec. 15:
Thanks to Mr. Cobblepot, I finally got my opportunity to prove my thesis regarding Jack Napier, aka the Joker. For review, in my original thesis, I put forth the proposition that Mr. Napier is not, in fact, insane. My theory is that he is faking in order to evade a proper trial and the inevitable incarceration that he would face. To understand the validity of this theory, one needs only to observe his behavior closely to notice clear signs of lucidity and even conscience.
My first meeting with Jack was considerably less than stellar. He was generally unresponsive to any of my attempts to converse with him in any meaningful manner. Rather, he spent the entire session flirting with me. While flattering, this actually serves to add validity to my theory; clearly he was being evasive in order maintain his cover."
"We are rolling in three, two..."
Vicky Vale stood just outside the gates of Gotham Penitentiary, about to cover what would possibly be the biggest story since Killer Croc escaped from Arkham Asylum last month. The fact that nobody has seen nor heard from the Batman since then only serves to amplify the importance of what is happening today, and thank God Knox is nowhere in sight. He was too busy with the Class Action suit that Oswald Cobblepot initiated almost immediately after Croc was recaptured. If she did this right, she might be able to scoop him on that, too.
"Good afternoon, Gotham!" Vicky greeted into the camera as soon as the cameraman gave her the signal. "This is Vicky Vale with channel 6 news. At this very moment, I am standing just outside the gates of Gotham Penitentiary where an unexpected turn of events has taken place and Floyd Lawton, also known as the notorious gunman Deadshot, has been granted Parole. Why this is unexpected is because initial reports indicated that his application for Parole was expected to be denied, but for reasons that are not yet clear, that decision was suddenly overturned and his Parole was granted."
A camera flash caught her eye. Being a professional and on camera live herself; she did not blink. Neither did she frown when she saw the source of the flash; it was Alexander Knox and his slippery photographer. They made it to the show after all.
"Standing here with me is Sergeant Janine Toussaint of the Gotham PD," Vicky continued. "Sergeant, what can you say to the people of Gotham about this unlikely turn of events?"
"Only that it was unexpected, and that the Police will be keeping a close eye on Mr. Lawton." Toussaint replied.
"Is that to say, then, that Commissioner Gordon disagrees with this decision?" Vicky asked. In her mind, this was a rhetorical question that needed to be asked. It was well documented that James Gordon played a key role along with Batman in the capture of Deadshot; much like Toussaint did in the recapture of Killer Croc one month ago.
"He has his doubts that Mr. Lawton is suitable to be allowed back into society, yes."
"The question the people of Gotham really want answered, Sergeant," Knox barged in, "is how did this happen; is this in any way connected to the Mob?"
"What we do know," Toussaint responded, "is that attorney Harold Dustman appeared late in Mr. Lawton's hearing to represent him, and shortly after that Parole was granted."
"What about the fact that Dustman is known to have a client list that includes the likes of the Falcone family and Oswald Cobblepot in addition to Deadshot?" Knox pressed. "Is there any speculation that either of them is in any way related to the decision to grant this known assassin Parole? Do the Police know if either of them is planning on hiring him? And if so, to what end, and how do the Police intend to keep the people of Gotham safe now that the Batman has gone into hiding, clearly to avoid being arrested?"
"No comment." Toussaint said plainly. She wanted desperately to tear one off of Knox, but she knew she couldn't do that. Gordon's Police Force doesn't do that. While it was true that Cobblepot had gained enough support in his Class Action suit to put the screws to Gordon to issue a warrant for the arrest of the Dark Knight, scumbags like Knox spun the matter so far sideways it wasn't even worth tabloid coverage, let alone news. Batman wasn't hiding; he was recovering after the beating he took last month. She wasn't even back to 100%, and he got it ten times as bad as she did.
"Look!" someone in the crowd shouted. "Here he comes!"
All attention turned away from the Sergeant and towards the activity inside the gate as they started to slowly open. On the other side, Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot, was being escorted out of Gotham Penitentiary by two armed guards, and was accompanied by Harold Dustman, Attorney at Law.
Vicky Vale nudged her way towards the pair as they exited the gate, making certain that Alexander Knox was well and far behind her.
"Mr. Lawton!" she called out. "Do you have anything to say now that you are a free man?"
Floyd stopped, turned, and smiled at the camera with a casual shrug. "What can I say?" he replied, "I guess there really is a Santa Claus," he paused with a wink, "Merry Christmas, everybody."
With that, at Dustman's urging, they pressed on towards a car waiting for them on the street. Dustman opened rear passenger door and let his client in.
"Hey, Deadshot," Knox called from a distance, tape recorder held high overhead. "What do you have to say about the speculation that you were set free as part of a fee for a big hit?"
"My client has no further comments at this time, thank you!" Dustman called back, closing the passenger door. Without another word he then opened the passenger front door of the car, and let himself in. Before anybody else could get a coherent question out, the car drove away.
Inside the car, Floyd couldn't help but chuckle.
Harold glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. "That wasn't very smart, you know," he said. "I thought I told you to say nothing to the press or anyone until we got into the car."
Floyd scoffed. "Relax." He said. "I wouldn't have given anything up. Besides, making smartass remarks like that is kind of my trademark."
"Exactly my point, Floyd," Dustman retorted. "You are supposed to be rehabilitated; a changed man who has learned his lesson."
"Whatever," Floyd dismissed the admonishment. "So where are we going now, anyway?"
Dustman grinned. "I want you to meet somebody."
Taken from the notes of Harleen Quinzel
"Dec 21:
I'm finally making some progress with Jack. Today he opened up a little bit and started talking about his childhood. He claimed that his father was an abusive drunk with a severe gambling problem, which led first to the death of his mother and then his father at the hands of the Falcone family; specifically one of their goons named Cyrus Gold. I take note that Cyrus Gold was a notorious criminal long ago. Just how old is Jack, anyway?
His narrative also included accounts of abusive language towards himself and his mother, as well as numerous severe beatings in their crappy apartment in the poor district. I can relate to that, which is why it was really quite the trick for me not to fall into his attempts to trick me into making our conversation about me. I should add here that Jack is obviously a very intelligent man, and that I get the sense that any post secondary education he may have is likely based on scholarships rather than being able to afford enrollment. Again, this is something I can identify with.
Somehow it must have gotten out that I too have no parents or siblings, because at the end of our session, Jack invited me to join him Christmas Eve for dinner. As this showed signs of compassion which adds even more validity to my theory, I accepted, on the condition that it was clear to him that this dinner was not a date. He readily agreed."
Alvarez ushered the sniper into a back service entrance to the Estate once he was certain nobody had eyes on them. He closed the door quietly and led the sniper up a set of stairs and down a hallway which led to a small apartment within the Estate on the Hill. At the door of the apartment, Alvarez stopped the sniper and knocked lightly on the door. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Lt. Brian Dustman on the other side. Brian nodded at Alvarez, looked the sniper over, and nodded in approval before letting them in.
Inside, the sniper recognized Brian right away, and of course he knew Alvarez. The room they were in was a small front room that served as an office; there was a desk directly in front of him, and behind the desk was a man whose facial features could not be made due to the positioning of the lighting in the room.
"Do you know who I am?" the man behind the desk asked. He had a slight southern twang to his voice, which the sniper immediately recognized; he'd heard it before.
"Yes, sir." He replied politely.
The man cleared his throat. As if this was a signal, Brian started to reach into his coat for his sidearm.
"Let's try that again." The man said. "Do you know who I am?"
The sniper caught on this time. "No sir, I do not." He said. "I've never seen your face."
"That's better." The man said. "Do you know why you're here?"
"I only know what I need to know."
"I like that." The man said, impressed. From his desk he pulled up a sheet, which he handed to Brian, who was standing beside him. "Go on," the man said to Brian. "Hand the gentleman that last piece of information he needs."
Brian Dustman stepped across the office and handed the sniper the paper. The sniper took it and saw that it was a photograph. The sniper smiled.
"Do you know who that is?"
"Yes, sir, I do." The sniper said.
"Do you know how to find him?"
"Yes sir, I do."
"That man is your target." The man behind the desk explained. "You will be well paid."
"Thank you, sir."
From the notes of Harleen Quinzel
"Dec 25:
Merry Christmas! I have to admit, dinner with Jack last night was fantastic! I had no idea the cooks at Arkham could put together such a fabulous spread! Jack was surprisingly charming and disarming, and even wore a Santa hat the whole time. To his credit, he went out of his way to make sure it was not a date. While somewhat adolescent, his calling it 'not a date' all night long was really quite an entertaining gag which never quite got old. He really does have quite the sense of humor; he even shared in the laughter when he spilled the Christmas pudding in his own lap. He made light of it by saying 'just call me pudding from now on!' How we both laughed long and loud at that.
I think I'm starting to win him over."