The Batman
in
Infinite Paradox
Chapter One
The Band's Playing Our Song
"Played you like a violin. HA! HA! HA! HA!"
I resist the temptation to crush the card in my hand then and there. To make a fist and pummel the dirty wooden floor in frustration that sets it's way into my system. For that one second I resist, I remember the mission.
My index finger motions over the letters on the card, instinctively, and a scan begins.
It only takes four seconds to determine the fluid. The result flashes on my cowl lens, brightly. "It's blood, Jim," I motion to the smoking man behind me before issuing a command back at the cave. "Scan sample and cross match with victim's blood. "
Alfred would know what to do. He'd get back to me as soon as he found anything.
From observation:
The victim was male.
Early twenties.
About 190lbs, considering.
Head shaved. Quickly, with scissors most likely.
Unknown to me.
Probably a good kid, which always made it worse.
His arms and legs had been hacked off and stitched back onto his body to resemble a human violin, complete with bow made from the right arm.
The hair of the string was human, remnants of it scattered on the ground.
"Poor kid," spoke Jim, softly. "I hope Barbara didn't know him."
Jim continued to stare at the grinning violin corpse before us for a good minute before shaking it off and lighting up another cigarette. He was nervous. He always was whenever he found a victim like this. A kid. At his hands. Like his daughter was.
"If she did, she'll cope. She's tough, like her father."
Joker paralysed Barbara Gordon, Jim's daughter, but the bullet never killed her. She was even able to recover but it took a long time. But she was tough, like her father is.
Jim Gordon. Police Commissioner. Ally. One of the few honest men in the city, nevermind the police department. One of the few people, outside the family, I'd trust with my life.
The new cigarette seemed to light the old cop's mind on fire again.
"I don't see an initial connection to the other victims. None of the others were mutilated. We haven't been able to link any of them to each other," he tapped the cigarette ash into a coffee cup. "It almost seems random."
"With Joker, it's never random. It's all an act, Jim. You know that as well as I do."
Jim puffed at his cigarette with a sigh. He knew better than anyone. "Maybe. But with that note, the bastard's taunting us!" he shouted taking another drag. "I'm sick of this."
"We've both wanted to end it Jim," I admit, truthfully. "But we believe in justice more. We'd only become a monster like him…no…worse than him Jim. We can't break the cycle without creating a new one for ourselves. "
"I know. We've seen it happen."
"Harvey…"
Jim gets a call over the radio while my mind drifts away. It Wanders to a different time. Harvey Dent was a good man. Through no fault of his own, his cycle was broken and he was played by a monster over that long Halloween.
The cogs turn. My brain focuses back to the present, back to the message. I was so stupid. I should have seen that the moment I walked in here.
He's playing us.
For time.
"Jim…" I snarl, looking back.
"That was dispatch. He's killed another. A little boy. Bullock's at the scene now."
I rush to the window as fast as my legs move, grapple gun in hand and Batmobile growling below.
"Tell him and his men to get back, as far away as possible. Where is it?"
"Crime Alley."
The words hit me hard as I make the fall to the car.
I drive, pushing her to the limit. I hope I'm not too late.
My heart tells me different.
One laugh echoes throughout the alley.
One explosion drowns it in a sea of flame.
One man's heart dies again, as did decades ago.
At eight years old.