Everything Burns
By Matt Handle
This is a work of fanfiction. Several of the characters do not belong to me and are the property of DC Comics. This story is intended to fall under the Fair Use doctrine but it is subject to take down without notice based on request from the copyright holder.
Chapter 1
The crowd numbered in the thousands and it was ugly from the moment it began to gather. Hordes of men, women, and children pushed against the make-shift barriers of rusted iron and splintered wood. Eyes blazed, cheeks burned, and voices shrieked. They wanted blood.
Jack-booted policemen prowled the perimeter of the parade route. Their scowls were directed at no one and everyone at the same time. They bore automatic rifles and stun grenades, not a body-cam or Taser to be seen. These thugs weren't paid to "protect and serve" the filthy plebes gathered to witness this afternoon's spectacle. They worked for just one man, and that man was about to address the angry mob.
The Joker licked his scarred lips and smiled his maniac smile then tapped on the microphone. Feedback screeched and crowd drew quiet. Harley Quinn posed at his side, black and red sledgehammer on one shoulder and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Wow, what a crowd! Fantastic isn't it?" the clown prince and newly elected President of the United States of America began.
The crowd roared its approval.
"They said we couldn't do it. They said the vote was in the bag."
A lone woman, wearing a pink hat and pressed against a sawhorse at the front of the crowd shouted to be heard.
"You stole the vote, Joker! And some day Batman will make you pay!"
The Joker pulled a long-barreled pistol from his suit pocket, aimed, and fired at the woman. She dropped dead as a single red spot blossomed on the front of her dress.
"Who's in the bag now?"
The crowd roared again, this time in raucous laughter.
"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell you I could shoot someone in the street and it wouldn't make a difference? And do you want to know why?"
The crowd hushed, eager to hear their elected leader's answer.
"Because you're my kind of people! Free to do what we want. Free to be who we want. No more rules. No more laws. We're going to make America great again!"
Again, the crowd went wild, their favorite catch-phrase driving them into a near-uncontrollable frenzy.
"And that's why we're all here today, isn't it? To do something great. Something this country has needed to do for a long time now."
The crowd started to chant. "Lock him up! Lock him up!"
The Joker raised his arms theatrically, his gloved hands pointed toward the overcast skies of Gotham.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you our newest Arkham Asylum resident. A man that needs no introduction. A man who has been the bane, no pun intended-"
Harley cackled.
"-Of this country's existence for over a decade. A crazed vigilante killer that thinks he's better than you and me, but is in reality, the very worst of us… I give you, the Batman!"
The crowd absolutely lost it. People gnashed their teeth and screamed as spittle flecked their mouths and chins. Sweat soaked their shirt-fronts and veins bulged in their foreheads as their faces went from orange, to red, to purple.
A military truck rumbled its way through the shadows of the skyscrapers that rose above the crowd on either side of the narrow street. A fuzzy teddy bear, dropped and forgotten on the pavement by some chubby-fingered child was crushed by the vehicle's massive steel-reinforced tires.
Pulled in tow behind the truck was a black-metal cage on wheels. Inside the cage was the Batman, his suit and cowl unmistakable, even to the people in the back of the crowd. He was on his knees. His arms were chained to the bars above his head, his feet chained to rings set in the floor. His head was down, his dark eyes averted.
The crowd began to throw things at him. Rotten fruit, soda cans, and rocks clanged as they ricocheted off the metal bars of the cage. A few of the projectiles made it past the cage and hit the caped crusader, but he didn't seem to notice. Boos and curses rained down upon him even harder than the hurled objects, but they had no more effect. The Batman was silent. Bowed. Defeated.
"This is the face of tyranny!" the Joker shouted over the din. "This is who would take away your liberty! This is who would enslave you with his cruel and unusual punishment, who would falsely imprison you with the assistance of our former deep-state police commissioner…"
The crowd booed.
"But not anymore!"
The crowd began to clap its hands. "Joker! Joker! Joker!"
'It's a new day, my friends!" the Joker grinned.
The truck and its caged prisoner rolled past and into the shadows as it headed to the outskirts of the city and the gates of Gotham's infamous home for the criminally insane.
"We're going to do great, great things! Tremendous things!"
"The best things!" Harley chimed in.
"Isn't she something? Isn't she just a real quality person?"
The Joker reached down and made a show of grabbing his Vice President's bottom. "And in such great shape!"
"Oh stop!" Harley pretended to complain as she playfully shoved his hand away.
"That's it, folks! The Bat is nothing but a Jailbird now! Go forth and wreak havoc! You don't have to go home, but you've got to get out of here!"
Harley grabbed a lime-green plastic box from beneath the podium and offered it to her boss. She caressed it like a gameshow hostess showing off one of the game's many fabulous prizes. The box featured a big purple button on the lid.
The Joker raised one gloved finger over the button and pressed it. An explosion rocked the street. The sound of crashing metal and glass shattering on concrete rung out from a block to the south followed by billows of smoke that drove people to stampede from their spots toward the nearest safety.
"Go out with a bang, am I right?"
"You're always right, puddin'!" Harley beamed.
The Joker and Harley made their way off the stage and into a purple limo that awaited them nearby. As they sunk into their plush seats, Harley opened a bottle of chilled champagne with a loud pop.
"Bubbly?"
"I could never say no to you," the Joker replied with a smile. Then he rapped his knuckles on the partitioning wall that separated them from the driver.
"Take us to the airport, Bob. We've got work to do."
Chapter 2
Four heavily-armed guards delivered Batman to his cell. They weren't gentle. He was unconscious when they dumped him on his cot and slammed the barred door shut. He woke up 45 minutes later.
"I'm surprised they didn't unmask you."
Batman looked bleary-eyed at the cell across the hall where the voice came from. He knew the voice although his vision was still impaired by the beating the guards had given him.
"Glad to hear you're still in one piece, Commissioner."
Commissioner Gordon snorted. "For now, anyway. Who knows what the Joker has in store for us."
Batman sat up and rubbed the back of his head through his cowl.
"They couldn't remove my suit, but believe me, they tried. I had this one especially made to resist tampering. Voice activated and coded locks on each piece."
"I'll bet that's fun if you ever have to go to the bathroom."
Batman chuckled.
"It takes some planning."
"Joker must be sore at you for spoiling his fun. He's wanted to know your identity for years."
"I guess he'll have to get used to disappointment."
Batman twisted his neck until it made a satisfying cracking noise.
"I'm a little sore myself."
"How'd they capture you?" Gordon asked.
"I let them. How else was I going to rescue you?"
"I suspected as much. Now that he's the president, a full-on assault wouldn't be looked on kindly by the people we're supposed to protect."
"These are dark days, Commissioner. I never thought I'd see them so dark."
"How the people ever elected such a fiend, I'll never understand."
"People are afraid, Commissioner. The Joker played on those fears, convinced them he was the one that would protect them. Convinced them men like you and me are the real enemy."
"The only thing Joker protects is his own self-interests. I'm not even sure he'd protect that crazy sidekick of his if push ever came to shove."
"Harley's the last person you need to feel sorry for. She can protect herself. Believe me.
"So what's your plan, Batman? How are we going to get out of here? This isn't exactly Blackgate, but I'd still rather not be around whenever Crane decides to pop in for a visit."
Batman smiled.
"I have something lined up that I think you're going to like. Anytime now…"
Alfred padded down a long hallway decorated in fine art by the likes of van Gogh, Dali, and Goya. Bruce Wayne had expensive, if dark, taste and every painting was an original. The end of the hall appeared to be solid rock but it actually hid the elevator to the Batcave. Alfred needed to access it quickly if he was going to assist Bruce in his latest adventure. He'd almost reached it when the front door chime buzzed the small tablet Alfred kept in his jacket pocket.
"Good heavens, could your timing be any worse?"
Alfred hesitated a moment, hoping whoever was at the door would go away. He knew Bruce was waiting on him to fulfill his part of Gordon's rescue, but forty plus years of butler service was hard to ignore. When someone was at the door, you answered it.
He was almost convinced his wish had come true when the tablet buzzed again. Whoever it was, they weren't going to go away.
"Curses!" Alfred whispered. "It had better be quick!"
The old butler turned away from the hidden elevator and headed back down the long hall as he started the journey across the house and toward the front door. Wayne Manor was huge. In fact, it was the largest private residence in Gotham. Alfred took a certain amount of pride in being charged with it and its master's well-being, but he wasn't getting any younger. Walking from one end of the mansion to the other was tiring and time-consuming.
His tablet buzzed a third time before he reached the door.
"Coming, coming!" he muttered to himself.
When he finally arrived, Alfred found that whoever was on the other side of the door wasn't just pushing the buzzer. They were banging on the thick wooden door too. They were banging hard.
Alfred slipped open the peephole and peeked to see who was outside. He yanked backward in surprise once he did. Jonathan Crane?
"Open up!" Crane demanded. "We're here to talk to Bruce Wayne."
"I'm afraid he's not here at the moment," Alfred called through the door. "Perhaps you'd like to leave a message?"
Crane banged on the door again.
"Open up or I'll have my men knock it down. Last chance."
Reluctantly, Alfred did as he was told. Crane had half a dozen men with him, one large enough to be a linebacker for the Gotham Rogues. There was no point in waiting until they broke the door off its hinges.
"Good evening, Dr. Crane," Alfred greeted the man and his entourage. "I hope you're enjoying your newfound freedom. As I stated, Master Wayne isn't here at the moment. Is there something I can do for you in his absence?"
Crane stepped over the threshold, forcing Alfred to take a step backward.
"Nice place," Crane commented as he looked around. He turned to face Alfred, his eyes blazing with madness. "But I very much need to talk to Wayne directly. When do you expect him to return?"
"Oh, not for another day or two I imagine. He's away on business."
Crane motioned for his men to follow him inside then he smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"We'll wait."
Chapter 3
The sauna was so filled with steam hardly a detail could be seen if more than a few feet away. Two men sat shoulder to shoulder on a wooden bench in the gray mist, both wrapped in white towels. One was pale, scrawny and weak-chinned with a neck too long for his liver-spotted, balding head. The other was younger and fitter but had the sort of smug face that begged to be punched.
"How do you work with a man like him? He's unprincipled, undisciplined, and a danger to all of us."
"We don't have a choice, do we?" the Weasel replied.
The Terrapin removed his thick spectacles and wiped the steam from them with the corner of his towel.
"I don't like it."
"You don't have to. Our schemes are still raking in the dough. We just need to play to his ego and do our best to keep him on script."
The Terrapin chuckled.
"That'll be the day. The Joker doesn't go by anyone's script. Does he look like a man with a plan?"
"He looks like Ronald McDonald playing the lead bad guy in a Romero flick, but that didn't stop the American people from voting for him."
"God help us," the Terrapin muttered. "God help us all."
Big Boy Luga jabbed another soggy meatball with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. Grease dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with his napkin before he spoke.
"I don't give a damn about what the people want. I care about getting paid."
"I understand, boss, but this is different. The note said to be on the plane by three or suffer the consequences."
"Consequences," Luga scoffed. "The man wins an election and suddenly he thinks I jump when he summons me? He's got another thing coming."
"He did jail Batman today. Maybe you ought to hear him out?"
"Yeah, there is that. Without Bats bothering us, the city is basically ours."
Luga's sniffling underling nodded with enthusiasm.
"I'm not taking orders from no man in makeup though. You can take that one to the bank."
"Is that before or after we rob it, boss?"
Luga laughed then jammed another meatball into his mouth.
"All right, let his people know I'll be there. Let's hear the man out."
Colonel Klux stood upon the observation platform and smiled as he watched roughly 200 men in makeshift camouflage uniforms run through their drills. True, they weren't particularly well trained, but they were an enthusiastic bunch. Like Klux, most of the men on the field below had never served their country in the military, but they owned guns and they knew how to use them. Klux considered it his job to make sure those guns were pointed at the right targets.
One of his newer recruits, a pimple-faced boy of 16 or so that Klux thought might be named Jacob or Caleb or something along those lines hustled up the stairs behind him. The boy clicked his heels before coming to stand at attention awaiting Klux's command.
"Speak."
The boy stepped up to Klux's side and spoke so softly, Klux almost had to strain to hear him over the noise of the soldiers below.
"Joker? When?"
The youth mumbled another reply.
"Gotham International? What in the hell is he up to?"
Klux pondered the situation for a minute as the boy stood waiting. The Gotham airport wasn't more than a few hours away, but the prospect of meeting the famed criminal-turned politician left him uneasy.
"Probably damned if I do and damned if I don't. Okay, let them know I'll be there."
Klux watched the men continue to drill as the boy took his leave and headed back down the stairs. Whatever Joker was up to, he knew there had to be money in it. The Joker didn't do anything for free.
"Maybe there's a little something for me in it," he said to himself. An evil grin crossed his elven features as the men took aim and fired into the distance. "It's about time I cashed in a few of these chips."
Thurston Tench took his tea at quarter past noon every day without fail. It was tradition. As far as Tench was concerned, tradition was the cornerstone of civilization.
Ruthie delivered the brew in his favorite cup with its matching saucer. She placed a folded cloth napkin and silver spoon beside it. She did all of these things without a word. He smiled at her to let her know that was all he needed and she left the porch to go back inside.
They said you couldn't find good help these days, but Tench thought Ruthie might be the exception to that rule. She'd been with his family for over 40 years. He was just a boy when she'd first arrived to serve his father and now she served him. He took a sip of the Darjeeling White and relaxed as he looked out upon the rolling hills of his land. This was only one of many properties he owned, but it was one of his favorites. It brought back memories.
The approach of a vehicle stirred him from his reverie. It was a black SUV and it was moving fast. It left clouds of dust in its wake as it motored up the two-mile drive from the main road below.
Tench stood up from his chair and placed one well-manicured hand on a porch post as he waited for the stranger to arrive. It didn't take long.
Bob got out of the SUV and stretched his sore back before making his way to the porch and the handsome, Ivy League educated industrialist that awaited him.
"How ya doing?" he asked as he got closer.
"I'm doing fine," Tench replied. "What brings you to my home this afternoon?"
"Well sir, I work for the Joker and he'd like a word."
"Oh?"
"Air Force One will be leaving Gotham International in a few hours. He'd like you to be aboard when it does. Can I tell him you'll be there?"
"I didn't know the Joker and I had any business."
"He's the president now, Mr. Tench. Everything is his business."
Tench regarded the homely, unshaven driver for a moment. The man certainly didn't look like a traditional representative of the President of the United States of America, but then again, the president wasn't exactly traditional either. The country had changed.
"Very well. You may tell him I will be there."
Chapter 4
"Greetings, gentlemen."
The Joker licked his lips and smiled as he joined the five men already aboard Air Force One. Harley entered right behind him. She wiggled her fingers at the men then plopped into an empty seat. The Joker had the plane's interior redone immediately after his inauguration. The soft purple leather cradled Harley as she propped her shapely legs up on a nearby table. There were two pilots in the cockpit as well, but they were invisible for the time being, busying themselves with their pre-flight check.
"First, let's address the elephant in the room, shall we? None of you were all that enthusiastic about my candidacy. Yet here we all are two weeks after I take office, one big happy family!"
Joker made a show of squinting and looking at each man with suspicion.
"Or are we? A little birdy tells me some of you may be shall we say… disgruntled."
The Joker pulled a long knife from his jacket pocket and licked it. Then he glanced at each man in turn, all of them sporting matching looks of revulsion and fear.
"Anyone got something to say?"
Joker sneered. "Cat got your tongue maybe?"
Tench spoke up. "I didn't ask to be here, Joker. You invited me. I admit we've had our differences, but if you're willing to meet me halfway on some key issues, I have no problem with working with you."
"Hmm," Joker pondered. "Half way, you say…"
Joker placed his hands on his cheeks and danced back and forth.
"Half way, half way, half way…"
Joker suddenly leapt into Tench's lap, shoved a hand into the man's mouth, and yanked his tongue out as far as it would go. Tench struggled to get away, but the Joker held on tight. With his knife-hand, Joker brutally sliced Tench's tongue out. The typically elegant but now bloody businessman screamed in agony as Joker got up and held his gory prize out for the rest of the men to see.
"That's about half, wouldn't you say?"
Tench reached into his ruined mouth and continued to howl in pain while the other men blanched. The Terrapin looked like he was going to puke and Luga placed a hand on his massive chest like he might be about to suffer a heart attack.
The Joker turned toward Harley and offered her the fresh piece of meat. She took it from him with a giggle.
"I always did like a little tongue before lift off!"
Tears streamed down Tench's face. His agonized sobs and incomprehensible curses filled the cabin.
It was so loud the copilot poked his head out of the cockpit.
"Is everything okay back here?"
"Fine, fine," the Joker waved him away. "We'll be ready in just a minute."
The copilot took a frightened glance at Tench then shut the cockpit door again. Tench uttered another howl.
"Oh shut up," the Joker complained.
With one quick move, Joker jammed his knife through Tench's throat and twisted the blade upward. Tench died with a wet gurgle.
"There. That's better!"
Joker looked around the cabin at the remaining party.
"Anyone else have any comments?"
The men remained silent.
"You sure?"
"We're with you 100%, boss," the Weasel piped up.
"That's the spirit! There's nothing like some good old-fashioned lickspittle to grease the wheels of progress!"
The Joker rapped on the door to the cockpit twice. "Get us in the air, boys. We've got business to discuss!"
The Joker spent the next hour and forty five minutes discussing his hated of Batman, his love of chaos, and how those two things were going to make each and every one of them rich. By the time they landed in D.C, they were all drinking cocktails and laughing like old friends.
They said their goodbyes on the tarmac while Tench's remains were left for the cleaning crew to take care of. Each of the remaining guests had a limo waiting for them just outside the runway gate. A shiny purple sports car sat all alone in a nearby hangar.
"What do you think, puddin'? Pretty, isn't it?"
Joker gave the car a wolf whistle as they approached where it was parked.
"Not bad, not bad! Still not as pretty as you though."
"Aww, ain't you just the sweetest?"
"Is it for me?"
As they reached the car, Harley draped herself seductively across the hood and smiled.
"All yours."
"Then let me take you for a ride," the Joker grinned. "See what I can make her do."
Chapter 5
Alfred spent the next two hours catering to Crane and his band of hoodlum's every need. The first order of business was supper. He always made sure Master Wayne's pantry was well-stocked and the manor's uninvited guests took full advantage.
The insane doctor's appetite proved to be rather modest, but his cohorts gorged themselves. They ate the cold cuts. They finished off the potato salad. They devoured the chips. They practically inhaled the red velvet cake and vanilla ice cream, and if they had stopped there, Alfred would have called it a small victory. Bruce spent most of his meals eating take-out so the contents of the kitchen were modest. The wine cellar however, was another story.
While Crane's half dozen less-than-merry men did their best to deplete the mansion's larder, the doctor wandered down the hall and then the back stairwell until he found Master Wayne's impressive stock of fine wine. Both of the 2009 Chateau Margaux, the '41 Inglenook, the '92 Screaming Eagle Cab, and even the 1869 Chateau Lefite, all gone. Crane and his men drank every drop of these fine vintages without even a please or thank you. Every popped cork made the elderly butler cringe, but he held his tongue. These men were dangerous.
Alfred made several attempts to remove himself from the feast and make his way to the Batcave in order to kick off Bruce's escape plan from Arkham. Every time he did, Crane found a way to make him stay. At first, the doctor was confrontational. As two glasses of wine became three, Crane was no less insistent on Alfred's presence, but decidedly more forthcoming about why it was so important he gain an audience with the master of the estate.
"Your boss doesn't strike me as a man of many regrets, but I assure you, he's going to regret keeping me waiting if he doesn't get here soon."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate your visit, Dr. Crane, but as I've said, he's out of town. If I had a way to contact him, I would. I'm afraid he's a very private man."
"I can respect that, but the Joker isn't known for his patience. As soon as Batman escapes, this thing is starting with or without the esteemed Mr. Wayne. If he's not on the team, we'll lump him in with the opposition."
"The Joker? Batman? I don't quite know what you're talking about Dr. Crane."
Crane shook his head then finished off his final glass of wine for the night.
"It doesn't matter. Batman will soon be on the loose with that despicable police commissioner of his and the game will be underway. The people will have their villain and we'll have our fall guy."
Crane stood up from his chair and wobbled a bit.
"Come on, gentlemen. It's time we called it a night."
He turned toward Alfred once they reached the front door.
"If Wayne returns by morning, tell him to come by my office immediately. Any later than that and he's on his own."
With that, the doctor and his men left. The moment they were gone, Alfred hurriedly walked to the hidden elevator. It whisked him downstairs to the Batcave where he sat down in front of Bruce's communications station.
"I only hope I'm not too late."
Batman spoke softly into the microphone hidden in the wrist of his batsuit.
"Any time now."
Gordon smirked in the darkness of his cell across the hall. The guards had put the two of them in an isolated wing of the asylum. As far as they could tell, no other prisoners were around. It was silent but for the occasional groan of the water pipes behind the walls.
"Monkey wrench in the plan?"
"Something like that," Batman growled.
"Want to tell me who you're trying to get a hold of?"
"No."
Gordon shrugged then sat back to watch what Batman would do next. He'd gotten used to the masked man never giving up any information that would give away his true identity, but that never stopped him from trying.
"It seems I'm going to have to go to Plan B."
"It's good to know you have one. Anything I can do to help?"
"Turn your head away for a minute," Batman instructed. "Protect your eyes."
With the touch of a button on the right arm of his suit, a small blowtorch popped up on Batman's wrist. It was lit a scorching blue. He pressed the flame to the locking mechanism on the door to his cell. A minute later, the lock was melted to a yellowish goo. The door slid open without a sound.
Batman stepped into the hall and melted the lock on Gordon's cell in the same fashion. When he was done, the blowtorch retracted back into his suit.
"Well that was easy," Gordon commented as he stood up and joined Batman in the hall. Why didn't we use Plan B in the first place?"
"It's not the melted locks I was hoping to avoid."
Before Batman could continue, two guards appeared at the far end of the hall.
"Hey!" shouted one of them. "What are you doing out of your cells?"
"It was this," Batman finished.
The guards were both armed with hard rubber nightsticks, but it didn't matter. They landed a couple ineffectual blows against the Batman's armored gauntlets but didn't manage a single swing at the easier target of Gordon before Batman knocked them both unconscious. One went down after a hard punch to the nose. The other got one of Batman's elbows to the back of his head.
Batman and Gordon stood over the bodies of the two stunned men and looked at each other.
"Plan A would have avoided this kind of violence. The more men I leave injured, the easier it will be for the Joker to use this escape against us in the press."
"Let's hope we don't run into any more guards then," Gordon replied.
By the time Batman and Gordon made their way to the exit five floors below, Gordon counted four black eyes, two bloody noses, one broken arm, and what he thought was probably a cracked skull. Batman had left a half dozen more brutally beaten foes in their wake.
"So much for hope I guess."
"It's in short supply these days," Batman answered.
The two of them walked out the front door and into the cloudy night.
Chapter 6
The subterranean hallway was dimly lit but it somehow became even darker with every step Ra's al Ghul took. He was alone, the men of his League of Shadows left behind, yet he still cut an imposing figure as he made his way toward the secret door he knew lay ahead. Two armed guards stood in front of the door but they allowed him to pass without a word.
As he stepped through he left the shadows behind and entered the brightly lit White House Library. The Joker had redecorated. A neon green rug covered the floor and the drapes were deep purple. Comic books were stacked on most of the built-in bookshelves. A pair of plush red chairs sat in the middle of the room and in one of them, the President waited.
"Come on in," the Joker smiled. "Have a seat."
"I see you've already made yourself at home."
"The place is a dump, but we do what we can."
"I just received word that Batman and Gordon escaped Arkham an hour ago. Three dead and five in the hospital."
"Dead, you say? That's not like him. The Batman is always so careful and neat."
Joker snarled as he said the last word then licked his lips.
"Members of the League arrived before the police. They did a little table setting to ensure we get the appropriate response."
Joker smiled.
"That's what I like about you, Ra's. Always so thorough."
"Dr. Crane has had planes spreading his new gas over all of the major cities for days now. Public hysteria and fear are rampant. Throw in a masked killer on the loose and my man running things in the Fatherland and we have just the powder keg we need. I've instructed Khang to begin preparations while the doctor meets with-"
"Yes, yes, we all know you're the man with the plan."
Before Joker could continue, Harley slipped into the room, catching both men's attention. She slinked up to Ra's and ran a sharp fingernail down his cheek before settling into the Joker's lap and giggling.
The Joker grinned and gave Harley a love-bite on her ear. "I just want to be the one to light the match."
"What's cookin'?" Harley asked.
"Bat soup."
"Mmmm, yummy!" Harley licked the Joker's neck then gave Ra's a wide-eyed pout. "Wanna stick around for a taste?"
"I think not. I have business to attend to. Goodnight Mr. President. I'll see myself out."
Once Ra's was gone, Harley got up from Joker's lap and proceeded to flip through one of the library's comic books.
"Your friend Ra's doesn't have much of a sense of humor."
"We can't all be the life of the party, my dear. Ra's has a very important role to play in this little show we're about to put on. After it's over, I'll send him on his way."
Harley put the comic down and walked behind Joker's chair. She stroked his stringy green hair as if she was petting a cat.
"I want someone to play with."
"Patience, Harley. All in good time."
The Batmobile arrived to pick Batman and Gordon up via remote control soon after they escaped the asylum. Knowing the Commissioner's house was probably under surveillance Batman dropped him off at one of the department's safe houses instead. Ten minutes later, the car was parked in the Batcave and Batman sat next to Alfred at the command center.
"Tell me the rest."
"As I mentioned while you were in transit, Crane kept me from activating the escape drone, but he did drop a few hints regarding what he's up to. It seems your violent escape played directly into their hands."
"It couldn't be helped."
"Yes, quite. It's already all over the news."
Batman turned on one of the command center's television monitors.
Our top story tonight, fugitives Batman and James Gordon have escaped Arkham Asylum. Both men are considered armed and extremely dangerous. Police say the pair killed at least three people during their escape and injured several more…
Batman turned the channel.
When asked for comment, Arkham's Head Psychologist Dr. Jonathan Crane stated "Batman and Commissioner Gordon are examples of everything my work strives to treat and prevent. I'm afraid this pair of violent psychopaths is convinced they're dispensing justice when in fact they're murdering the very people they swore to protect. I only hope the authorities can stop them before they kill again."
Batman turned the television off.
"And he wanted to meet me before all of this went down."
"Bruce Wayne is a man of some influence. I suspect he wished to gain you as an ally as he and the Joker spin their version of events."
Batman shook his head as he contemplated the situation.
"It doesn't make sense. The Joker enjoys sowing the seeds of chaos, but this is too organized. Stealing an election, turning my arrest and incarceration into a public spectacle, now setting up the escape to spread fear of my intentions… this is a level of complexity that doesn't suit him."
"You believe another party is involved?"
Batman nodded. "I do. But the man I suspect is supposed to be dead."
"It wouldn't be the first time one of your opponents has seemingly returned from the grave. In fact, I dare say that seems to have become a rather common refrain."
"There's one way to find out."
"What's that Master Wayne?"
"Tomorrow morning I'll pay Dr. Crane a visit."
Chapter 7
Joker tsked as he walked around the tee-box. Each man nervously stood on the closely mown grass, unsure what his president might do. Harley leaned back in the seat of Joker's purple golf cart with an amused grin on her face as she chewed a wad of gum.
"I see potential but just not a lot of initiative, gentlemen. What good is power if you don't know how to properly use it?"
"Now, Mr. President, I don't think it's fair to suggest-"
Joker stepped up close to the Terrapin, almost nose to nose. He placed a finger to his scarred lips.
"Shhh. Watch your tongue before I decide to meet you halfway on whatever you were about to tell me."
The Terrapin gulped then remained quiet.
"That's better. Now, as I was saying… Power is only as good as the person that wields it. You people were in office before I came along and what did it get you?"
Joker looked around the circle of four defeated faces and a still grinning Harley. Harley blew a bubble then popped it.
"It got you me, didn't it? A wild card. A loose cannon."
Joker walked over to Harley and flicked one of the pert nipples jutting out from her tight t-shirt.
"A rooster in the hen house."
Harley smacked his hand away and laughed.
Joker wrapped a hand around her throat and looked her in the eyes.
"When you've got them by the throat, you squeeze."
Harley tried to speak but couldn't.
"You don't let up."
Harley began to make choking noises.
"You squeeze until you've extracted every last drop they've got in them."
Harley's face began to turn purple.
Joker let go of her. He looked around at the gawking men as Harley gasped for air.
"Then you move on to the next one."
All four of his cabinet members took a step away from him, ready to run if necessary.
"Relax! Relax. I was just making an example. It's all in good fun. Right, Harley?"
Harley spit out her gum and mushed it on the steering wheel of the golf cart with a scowl.
Joker shrugged.
"Everyone's a critic. What I'm trying to tell all of you is that I expect more. More controversy. More mayhem. More madness! Now get off my golf course and make some bad decisions before I make some for you."
Joker shooed the Terrapin, the Weasel, Klux, and Luga toward their carts and caddies. Once they all drove off, he licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair as he stared at Harley.
"Are you cross with me?"
"You didn't have to do that."
"Since when did 'have to' enter into anything I do? I do what I want, darling. You know this."
"So you like hurting me."
Joker jumped into the cart and straddled her, his knees trapping her in place. He sat back on her thighs and licked his lips.
"Hurting you is my greatest pleasure in the world. Don't you know that by now?"
Harley tried to keep scowling, but a smile crept across her face.
"Ain't you just the sweetest?"
Joker gave her a peck on the mouth then got back to his feet.
"I don't know about sweet, but you sure won't forget the taste."
Yellow police tape still marked the entrance to Arkham Asylum but the policemen out front allowed Bruce to enter without a word. Everyone in Gotham knew Bruce Wayne on sight and Dr. Crane had told them Wayne was expected.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Wayne. I was starting to worry we wouldn't get a chance to talk. Step into my office and have a seat."
Crane closed the door behind Bruce then sat down behind his desk as Bruce took a chair on the opposite side.
"No doubt you heard I stopped by last night for a visit."
"Alfred told me. I hope his hospitality helped soften your disappointment at my absence."
Crane steepled his fingers and smiled.
"You have a beautiful home. Some excellent wine, too. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I know you're a busy man so I'll get right to the point. The president has some changes in mind and he's asked me to organize supporters here in Gotham. He has different men doing similar work in other cities, but given this being his hometown as well as our umm, bat problem, Gotham is of special interest."
"What sort of support is he looking for? As I'm sure he knows Wayne Industries gives generously to both parties each election cycle. We do our best to remain non-partisan."
"Oh, he's not looking for money. Well, not right now anyway."
Crane leaned forward over his desk, a mad gleam in his eyes.
"A storm is coming very soon. Things are probably going to get messy. The president would like to keep that mess from harming his friends. In return, he'd like your pledge of loyalty and some public support. Words of encouragement if you will."
"What sort of storm are we talking about?"
"I can't divulge those details just yet, but I promise you and everyone else will know them very soon. The world is a dangerous place, Mr. Wayne. The Batman, Commissioner Gordon, those men are part of the problem, not the solution. The Joker is the only man that can protect us. He'd like to have you on his side. Can I tell him he can count on you?"
"If I'm going to pledge loyalty to someone, I'd like to do it in person. Can you arrange a meeting with the president? Say, tomorrow?"
Dr. Crane rose from his desk and smiled.
"The President has a lot on his plate, Mr. Wayne. Running the country is a difficult job. Maybe even harder than running a large company such as yours. I can try to get you on his schedule, but you risk missing the boat. As I said, things are going to be happening very fast. I'd hate to see you left without a paddle."
"I guess I'll have to take my chances."
Bruce stood up from his chair and pulled a business card from his suit pocket. He handed it to Crane.
"Please call me at my office. If I'm not there, my secretary will make sure I get your message right away. I look forward to hearing what the president has to say."
Bruce didn't wait for a handshake. He turned and left the office without another word.
Chapter 8
Harley finished spray painting the mustache on the statue's face then stood back to admire her work.
"Not bad, huh?"
Joker gave the Lincoln Memorial an appraising look and nodded.
"The green brings out his eyes I think."
Harley laughed then added a smiley face on Lincoln's lapel before jumping down off the statue to the ground below.
"Sure beats sitting in that dingy old White House all day. BORING!"
Joker shook his black can of paint then sprayed 'Batman lives' across the base of the memorial.
"We won't be there much longer. Soon we'll be back at home sweet home with a roast pig in the oven and one less bat in the belfry."
Harley skipped along the white marble columns that rose in front of the statue, spraying a single letter on each. D
"What d'ya think?"
"Patriarchy doesn't suit you, but in this case, I'll make an exception."
Joker walked to the purple SUV that awaited them on the street below. Bob sat behind the wheel and a half-dozen secret service men surrounded the vehicle. Each of them was armed and dressed in black. As Joker approached, one of the guards opened the back door of the SUV. Joker ducked inside and popped back out seconds later with two large gas cans. He handed one to Harley.
"Shall we?"
Harley laughed and skipped around one side of the nearby reflecting pool while Joker headed in the opposite direction. They each poured gasoline on the grass as they went. When they reached the World War II Memorial on the far end, Joker dropped his can on the lawn and pulled a book of matches from his pocket.
"A little firelight to set the mood?"
Harley giggled.
Joker popped a match with his thumbnail and admired the small flame for a moment. The morning was overcast and his grisly makeup and scars were illuminated in the glow.
"It's just a baby, you know."
"What is, puddin'?"
"This flame. It's just a little baby yearning to grow. You know what that means don't you?"
Harley shook her head.
"It means it's time to be fed."
The Joker dropped the match onto the gasoline soaked lawn. Flames immediately leapt up from the ground. The fire quickly wrapped itself around the entire length of the pool, 2000 feet of hungry yellow flames.
"Pretty!" Harley exclaimed as she clapped her hands in glee.
"Now for the final touch."
Joker and Harley trudged back to the SUV, giving the fire a wide berth. When they arrived, the back hatch popped open. Joker pulled a bazooka out of the trunk and lifted it onto one shoulder.
"I love this part."
Harley bounced up and down, barely able to control herself.
"Oh, can I? Can I?"
"Get your own."
Joker pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
A blast of fire and smoke exploded out of the big gun. Seconds later, a plume of flame blossomed against the pristine white surface of the Washington Monument on the far end of the Mall. When the fire dissipated, it left a large black scorch mark in its place.
"Is that it?" the Joker asked in disgust.
He dropped the bazooka on the ground and stalked back toward his SUV.
"Well that was disappointing."
"Don't worry, puddin'. It happens to everybody once in a while!"
Joker scowled at his VP and slid into his seat.
"Not to me it doesn't."
The Briefing room was standing-room only. Reporters crowded one another, jockeying for the best position with microphones in hand. After Harley offered a short introduction, Joker took the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, sometime after dawn this morning, Deep State operatives Batman and James Gordon attacked the National Mall, damaging multiple monuments as well as the lawn. We have reason to believe the pair is working with Fatherland terrorists under the direction of their Supreme Leader, Kreeper Khang.
"Brave government forces have extinguished the fire and are already hard at work on repairs, but the terrorists are still at large. I urge you to use caution if you must go outdoors today and to stay home if possible. If you see either Batman or Gordon, call authorities immediately.
"That is all. No questions."
The reporters surged forward, each calling out to the Joker in hopes of learning more detail, but he disappeared behind a curtain, Harley at his heels.
"Think they bought it?" she asked once they were down the hall and alone in the secret corridors of the White House.
"Like a $60 frozen steak," Joker grinned. "Now hurry up. We've got some work to do before our meeting this evening."
Chapter 9
All four members of Joker's cabinet looked wary as they trooped into the boardroom. Wooden name placards marked their seats. They obediently took their places as they waited on Joker and Harley Quinn to arrive.
"So what, we're going to meet every day now?" Luga grumbled. "Sadistic prick or not, I'm no one's errand boy."
"Shh!" the Weasel warned. "For all we know, the place is bugged. Keep your mouth shut and do as you're told!"
Luga rolled his eyes then looked at Klux.
"You got anything to say over there, Colonel Sanders?"
Klux puffed out his chest. "I resent the implication and I serve at the pleasure of the president."
Luga chuckled but kept his mouth shut.
A moment later, they each stood up from their chairs as Joker and Harley entered the room. Joker puffed on a cigar and Harley had her trusty sledgehammer slung over one shoulder.
Joker licked his lips and smiled. "We meet again!"
"I have a special session meeting at 10 o'clock," the Terrapin offered up.
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that," Harley replied with a wink. "Mister J can write ya a tardy note!"
"Have a seat, gentlemen. This won't take long. I've decided to speed up my time table and each of you will be assisting me in this effort. The good doctor will be spraying extra potent doses of his fear gas from our air fleet this afternoon and I want to take full advantage of it. Get the people really riled up. The incident at the National Mall was just the opening act."
"I thought you said that was a Fatherland attack?"
Joker looked at the Terrapin and rolled his eyes. "Shut up.
"No, we need something bigger. Grander. What we need is an event that will convince even the most powerful of skeptics that their only hope is to put all their eggs in my basket."
Harley laughed. "Speaking of eggs, you know what they say about making omelets…"
She swung her hammer in a wide arc until it smashed directly into the Terrapin's face.
CRUNCH!
His head caved in like a melon - red, juicy, and ripe.
Before the remaining cabinet members could even move, Joker pushed a button under his seat at the table. A giant buzzsaw whirred to life and spun out from beneath the table's surface, nearly slicing Luga in half. His bloody entrails spilled all over the table and floor as he fell off his chair dead.
"Sir, I must object!" screeched Klux as he leapt to his feet.
The Joker smirked.
"No one wants to watch how the sausage is made, but everybody wants to eat."
Harley giggled.
"Harley, would you be so kind as to rid us of the Weasel?"
"Jesus, no!" the Weasel cried as he struggled out of his chair in panic.
Joker reached beneath the table one more time and pressed another button. A section of ceiling above Klux opened up. Gallons of hot, black tar gushed down upon the diminutive southerner's balding head.
He screamed in agony until the tar filled his mouth and throat, drowning him in burning darkness. As Klux gurgled his final breath, the Weasel dropped to his knees in front of Harley.
"Please! Not me. I'll do whatever you want."
"You interrupted our golf game the other day, stupid. What I want is to finally get my turn."
Harley swung her sledgehammer again, underhanded this time. It smashed into the Weasel's groin at full force, emasculating him instantly.
"Fore!"
The Weasel tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic squeak. Tears streamed down his red face as he cupped his now broken balls. Harley looked down on him and shrugged.
"You were never much of a man anyway."
She swung her weapon again, planting it atop the Weasel's skull.
CRACK!
His head split open, a mess of bone shards and gore. His body sagged to the floor in a wet heap.
Joker clapped as he watched the end of the show.
"Bravo!"
Harley did a little curtsey then propped her hammer up against the wall.
"Now what, Mister J?"
"Now we get Bob in here to hide our tracks before I make my big speech. Our moment has almost arrived!"
The Joker stood behind a podium set up on the White House lawn, Harley at his side. Big, ugly military tanks were parked nearby and a huge gathering of supporters and reporters filled the folding chairs set up on the grass. Armed guards in full army uniform were stationed all around the grounds and the perimeter fence. Snipers could be seen stationed along the roof. Every network had cameramen set up around the press pool and each of them was pointed in the Joker's direction.
"Something terrible happened earlier today, just terrible. We're talking about a huge tragedy, people. Today my entire cabinet was slaughtered right here in the White House."
Everyone in the audience gasped in shock. Cameras clicked away as the Joker made his best somber face for the evening's papers.
"I know what you're thinking. The President has the best security in the world. How could something like this happen? I wondered the same thing when I first walked into the room and found them. The Terrapin, the Weasel, Colonel Klux, and Big Boy Luga were torn to pieces. Believe me, they were butchered. Then it came to me. This was the work of the Batman. These patriots were killed by the same escaped lunatic that murdered three people in Gotham yesterday. They were killed by the same crazed terrorist that's been after me for years."
"And he didn't act alone either!" Harley piped in.
"That's right. What my cabinet had just recently brought to my attention before this happened is that Batman and his cronies like James Gordon are actually working with that madman, Khang! The Fatherland has been financing Batman all along!"
The crowd gasped again. This time the shock was followed by several angry shouts. The crowd wanted vengeance. They wanted blood.
"Is America going to take this lying down? No, we are not. We're going to show these traitors what we're made of. We've already got military solutions like these beautiful tanks you see here locked and loaded. We're going to deliver a fire and fury on them like the world has never seen!"
Harley shouted, "They're going to be sorry they ever messed with us!"
The crowd cheered while the reporters nervously looked on.
"We must be strong in this time of crisis," the Joker continued. "We cannot allow Fake News and Deep State operatives to distract us from our mission. We must root out the Batman, his foreign puppet-master Khang, and all of their minions. We must destroy them once and for all! To make this happen, I hereby declare Martial Law. Go home to your families and lock your doors. Stay off the streets. Don't listen to those that would try to convince you everything is okay. We are under attack, friends, and I alone can guide us to victory. Be safe and God Bless America!"
Chapter 10
The next 24 hours were utter chaos. The combination of Dr. Crane's fear gas and the Joker's declaration of martial law brought out the very worst in the citizens of America. Rioters destroyed cars and buildings. Looters broke glass storefronts and stole everything they could get their bloody hands on. Fires burned on every city block turning the nation's skylines into flickering yellow and orange nightmares.
TV news fanned the flames with images of destruction and interviews with apocalyptic talking heads that took the Joker's version of events as gospel. Batman was a terrorist and an agent of the feared Fatherland regime. If the military couldn't stop him, war was imminent and everyone was doomed. Soon tanks rolled down the streets, firing indiscriminately, turning infrastructure to rubble. Jets tore across the sky, shaking windows and setting off car alarms. Troops marched in lock step, shooting anyone that dared get in their way.
Bruce Wayne's phone never rang. The Joker didn't need the support of Gotham's most famous industrialist after all. The plan Ra's al Ghul set in motion was working just fine on its own. Unlike Dr. Crane's previous effort years ago, the chemical compound he seeded the clouds over major cities with this time was subtle, more insidious. It didn't drive people insane immediately. This fear gas took its time. Crane had been busy for weeks and now the moment was ripe. Mounting panic was ready to explode.
Batman did what he could to calm the situation in Gotham. He didn't dare show his masked face in public, but the darkness remained his friend. At night he stalked the alleyways and rooftops, stopping crime wherever he could. The police were overwhelmed, but they woke each morning to find criminals unarmed and bound, neatly wrapped up for easy arrest.
It was like pissing into a hurricane. Gotham had come unglued. Every city in the country was falling apart. Gordon remained in hiding and during the day, Bruce largely did the same. Three days after Joker declared martial law Bruce and Alfred sat in the Batcave watching the 24-hour news channels continue their relentless coverage of the mayhem.
"How do you protect the innocent when the whole world has gone mad?"
Alfred shook his head sadly.
"I don't know, Master Wayne. I wish I did."
Before Bruce could utter another word, a special announcement interrupted the newscast on every television station. Bruce and Alfred had a half dozen of them on the monitors in front of them so they saw and heard it in stereo. The round face of Kreeper Khang, public leader of the Fatherland and private member of the League of Shadows filled every screen.
We have suffered the insults and threats of these foolish and stupid Yankees long enough. They have violently violated our sovereignty and will now pay the price for their crimes one thousand times over as we unleash our merciless revenge. Ten minutes ago I launched a dozen nuclear armed intercontinental ballistic missiles at the very heart of their evil realm, Washington D.C. Within the hour, their capital will be destroyed. Down with globalist pigs. Long live the Fatherland!
Reporters spoke up after the video clip of Khang was over, all of them stating more or less the same thing. The President had not yet issued a formal response, but residents of D.C. needed to evacuate immediately.
For 30 seconds, Bruce and Alfred sat in stunned silence.
"We've got to do something!" Bruce finally blurted out as he rose from his seat.
"The missiles are already launched, Master Wayne. Nothing in your arsenal can stop that."
"I can still help them evacuate."
Bruce started toward the Bat's launch pad.
"Contact Gordon, tell him to be ready. We're going to need that safe house he's holed up in."
Joker swept Harley across the floor of the Oval Office in a clumsy attempt at a waltz. He'd changed into a formal tailcoat and matching top hat while Harley had slipped into a skin-tight black and red bodysuit. Secret service agents were nowhere to be seen.
As they danced past a painting of Abraham Lincoln hanging on the wall Joker tipped his hat and smiled.
"Be honest, Abe. I wear it better than you ever did."
Harley laughed and they twirled around the room once more. They stopped behind the Resolute desk that had served almost every president of the past 40 years. The Joker opened a drawer to reveal the red nuclear button hidden inside.
"What's a bazooka when you've got one of these little babies?"
Harley lightly ran a hand down his arm toward the button but Joker smacked her fingers away before she could touch it.
"Don't even think about it."
Harley pouted then folded her hands beneath her chin and looked up at him.
"Well?"
"This time I'm going to leave a Hell of a lot more than just a mark."
Joker pushed the button and winked.
"Come on, we've got a plane to catch."
The Bat aircraft streaked across the sky on its way to D.C. Below it were highways backed up bumper-to-bumper with traffic, headlights as far as the eye could see.
"There's too many of them," Batman muttered to himself. "They'll never all get away in time."
"Do what you can," Alfred's voice spoke up from the plane's radio. "Just be sure you make it out yourself."
Batman banked the vehicle toward the Washington Monument. It rose in the distance like a white spear stabbing a darkening sky. As he neared it, Batman saw a minivan stalled on the side of the packed avenue nearby. A frantic mother was trying to wave down someone for help while her three children wept inside.
Batman landed the plane beside the van and opened the top hatch.
"Get in!"
The mother hesitated in fear. Batman was supposed to be the enemy, not the hero. Batman looked past her at a yellow streak in the sky. It steadily grew larger.
"There's no time!" he yelled. "The missiles will land any minute. Get your kids and get inside!"
The woman looked in the direction of Batman's gaze and saw what was coming. The imminent threat of a nuclear explosion broke her fear of the caped crusader. She turned to the van and opened the sliding side door to let them out.
"Come on, inside the plane. Hurry!"
As soon as all four of his new passengers were crammed on board, Batman pulled back the throttle and lifted off. The missile they'd seen in the distance was now much closer, a bright fire-flower tearing across the evening sky.
"Hold on."
The Bat bolted away from the scene. The force of its engines was so strong that the minivan blew over on its side in the plane's wake. In seconds the Bat was nothing but a black speck against a gray sky. Then a blindingly bright light lit up the horizon followed by a thunderous explosion.
Washington D.C. was gone.
Thirty thousand feet above the ground and nearly a hundred miles away, Joker played a happy tune on a shiny-new fiddle as he watched the destruction of the nation's capital from aboard Air Force 1. Harley shouted in glee as the mushroom cloud rose into the night, turning from yellow to orange to deep red.
"I do believe it's time to tender my resignation," Joker declared as he set the fiddle down in his seat and plucked up a glass of champagne.
He turned to face his passengers in order to make a toast. Harley Quinn, Ra's al Ghul, and Jonathan Crane all raised their glasses in unison.
"To the death of two governments and the birth of a whole new kind of Chaos, the world needed a kick in the pants and we just gave it to them."
Glasses clinked, new plans were hatched, and Air Force 1 left the smoking wreckage of Washington in the distance to the sound of the Joker's maniacal laughter.
Meanwhile in Gotham, Batman said his goodbyes to Gordon after the former police commissioner welcomed his four new houseguests and got them settled in. As the Bat rose above the city skyline and headed toward Wayne Manor, Batman spoke into the radio.
"I failed, Alfred. All those people vaporized in an instant and the Joker is still out there somewhere."
The cockpit was silent for a moment. Just when Batman began to wonder if his old friend was listening, Alfred's voice filled his ears, wise but sad.
"Life is a series of choices, Master Wayne. We all must make our own. Sadly, we don't always make the right one."
The End