Issue 20:
The Adventures of Badman and Robin
Self-Destruct in 2D.
"When I was young everything seemed new and anything seemed possible. As the years went by I noticed the same stories being told over and over again. It grew increasingly difficult to come up with something fresh and exciting. The older I got the more I realized stories are better told with a certain underhandedness. Is that a word? Now please recognize I don't mean underhanded in any negative connotation.
I mean rather the negative spaces in between the words and paragraphs. The words left unspoken and the glances not taken. There's so much we take for granted at face value. Somebody tells you a story and immediately you acquiesce for the satisfaction and enjoyment. So let me tell you a story about a younger, simpler me.
After the accident I was a bright, eager murderer looking to make a name for myself. Batman and I would go around and around but I watched him continually improve over time. He truly was an inspiring creature so much so that I desired to become the greatest villain in history, a worthy match for such a young dedicated hero. So in our intermissions I traveled this wondrous world.
I began training of sorts with other master criminals in so many major cities. I made a few friends and quite a few more not so friends, but more importantly I learned the business of crime and how to operate it. To me it felt in a way as restrictive as the do gooders who constantly ruined our fun. That's when I knew everything had to go but it would take something special.
My resolve stayed strong through those bloody adventures. I began in London where I recreated Jack the Ripper's killings and subsequently hunted some rather proper English heroes with trick canes and bowlers hats. Across Europe I slowly conquered. In France there was a brightly dressed and fiery woman I burned at the stake and in Germany a slew of barrel chested men with unpronounceable code names and threatening mustaches.
Every so often I returned to Gotham to assure no one discovered my journeys. Through Spain and Portugal I juggled between random killings in honor of some historic madman and hunting the lighter, jollier heroes across the pond. Between the years I secretly began traveling to Africa learning desert survival and enjoying a short stint studying with a native tribe in the rain forest. They were convinced I was a sort of pale demon.
After endless ritual ceremonies they taught me how to stalk prey in the jungle. That's how I learned to be so quiet when necessary. On through the Middle East and on to India, that's where the real story begins. In some busy city, I can't remember the name, I was visiting this Hindu temple looking to rob the place and I see this statue of Ganesh. It's beautiful right, gold and jewels all over. I decide I just have to have it.
The only problem, the statue is like ten feet tall and probably weighs tons. So there I am thinking about how to move this thing and I overhear two Indian gentlemen speaking in English. I guess they wanted their conversation to be private. Anyway they're talking about this amazing doctor who can cure the sick and work miracles of some kind. Me being the curious man I am decide to follow one of them home.
Luckily he leads me right to the doctor's residence, an Englishman named Dr. Dulen. I met this man and explained of my terrible skin condition which led my family to disown me. Sympathetically he offered me a job as cook in his house and I happily accepted. For a few months I served the household learning his secrets. Dr. Dulen had been run out of England in disgrace, you see.
Wildly he claimed to have regular contact with aliens and he built machines like nothing ever seen before though most turned out utterly useless. At the point I joined the Dulen household I began serving his meals with a hefty portion of powdered glass. He eventually died in agony leaking blood from every orifice. In retrospect I guess I just wanted to see something great die in pitiful pain, and make no mistake Dr. Dulen was a great man. He had an incredible gift for healing the poor.
It was in his notes, the more well-guarded ones, I found plans and blueprints for a machine that could change the world. It was a machine that had the power to make any reality the user wanted come true. I looked at those plans and I wondered what I would choose. If I had the power to do whatever I wanted I quickly realized I wouldn't change a thing. So the papers burned with the rest of the house.
Because this is where I'm meant to be. There's nothing better than this moment happening now, you understand? People throw around the word insane but to me that has nothing to do with it. It's not about trying to be crazy, never has been; it's about having fun. It's about having fun until it hurts. Are you ready to have fun?" Joker asked.
"No, I don't think so. No," the man answered hanging upside down over the building.
"Look Frankie, you know who I am and I know who you are. I even know the knuckleheads you work for. Now either tell me where the drop point is or I'm gonna cut your face off," Joker levelled.
"I don't know what kind of sick shit this is but I want out. My buddies were supposed to drop the drugs off in the Cauldron but since you nabbed me they had to have changed plans by now. I swear that's all I know," Frankie begged. Joker slipped the cowl back over his head as Robin climbed up the edge of the roof.
"I lost their van past Monroe St. You jumped in too early!" Robin exclaimed unhappily.
"You were supposed to knock out the lights," Joker retorted.
"I couldn't find the fuse box," the boy admitted brushing his dark bangs from his eyes, "Did you get anything from him?"
"Of course, my interrogation skills are top notch. They were going to drop the drugs in the Cauldron but that point is going to change since we caught him," Joker explained proudly.
"Did you take your mask off?" Robin asked suspiciously.
"Of course not," Joker assured.
"Yeah he did," the upside down drug dealer tattled. Joker turned and viciously kicked the man across the face.
"You're a damned snitch, Frankie!"
"That's it," Robin held up his hands, "Unnecessary violence to a suspect and mask removal. Reset it."
"No kid, please! Not that. I'll do better," Joker pleaded. Robin learned from teaching Ace the Bat Hound how to handle animals. The trick is to get them to do it over and over until it becomes a part of their nature. At the rate they were going Ace would have been an infinitely better Batman. Each time Joker screwed up or broke a rule they reset the clock back to zero. They began the training all over again and Joker wasn't the only one regretting it.
"Take it from the top," Robin demanded.
Hour One.
"Muggings," Robin ordered. In his baggy Batsuit Joker looked down into the alley where a teenager pointed a knife at a woman who clutched her purse tightly.
"Just give me the money and everything will be fine," his frightened voice betrayed him.
"Please don't," she whimpered as Joker dropped down beside her.
"Criminals get punished in my city," he growled deeply, "I won't let you terrorize these citizens anym-" He paused staring at the youth's posture and stance.
"I'm sorry. This is just bugging the crap out of me," Joker dropped the act and stepped toward the young man, "Look kid, if you hold the knife out like that you're asking someone to take it from you." Not surprisingly Joker reached out and did just that.
"You want to make sure you keep that elbow bent," he demonstrated before his stunned audience, "Also why even come from the front? We're face to face, now you got options. Come at me, turn and run, I've got no idea where you're going buuuut," Joker gracefully slipped behind the woman and ran the flat of the blade over her neck, "Now I know she's not going anywhere. Plus she's way less likely to do something stupid.
Then you say something threatening to her. Don't make her feel better or tell her everything is going to be okay. You're not bargaining at the flea market. Say, 'Give me the money or I'll cut your tongue out!' or something like that." Releasing the woman Joker slapped her on the ass.
"Thanks for coming out, toots. You've been great. Remember Batman and Robin are always there to save the day when you're stupid enough to walk down a sketchy Gotham alley," Joker nodded and turned back to the would be criminal. Stunned into inaction the woman stared at his back for a moment then fearfully fled the other direction. Flipping the knife over in his grip Joker handed the knife back to the speechless crook.
"Look I don't want to tell you your business but you've got to improve if you're going to make it in this city. Whatever you decide to make a career out of you need to work hard at it. Put time into your craft and be the best you can," he patted the kid on the shoulder and the suspect nodded in solidarity at the advice.
Before Joker could send him on his way Robin dropped in behind the pair. Instantly Joker remembered what he was supposed to be doing and sucker punched the mugger across the face sending him and the blade sprawling over the pavement.
"And don't you EVER rob people in Gotham again," Joker yelled attempting to save face.
"Save it," Robin stopped him, "That was a disaster."
"What do you mean? I saved the victim and punched evil across the face," Joker objected.
"You put a knife to the victim's throat then gave it back to the suspect! THEN you ran a seminar on how to rob people effectively," Robin exploded.
"So overall you're thinking like a C minus?" Joker asked expectantly.
"Failed," Robin declared.
"Rescue," Robin ordered. Frowning Joker looked up at the thin tree branch. From on high a massive black tomcat arched his back and hissed down at the duo. Robin thought he looked like the kind of cat who'd never eaten out of a bowl in his life.
"I don't think he needs rescued," Joker observed, "I think he's just hanging out up there."
"You might be right," Robin agreed, "He does look pretty pissed. Maybe there's something else we can do." Across the street a middle aged couple walked with their small boy who carried a red balloon. They must have recently left the convention center a few blocks away.
"Oh no!" the little boy cried as his balloon slipped off his wrist and floated up above them.
"Quick!" Robin elbowed his partner and improvised, "Balloon Man stole a baby and tied it to that balloon. Bring it back at all costs."
"Is Balloon Man a real guy or did you just make him up?" Joker mused.
"Hurry up! A real Batman thinks on his feet," Robin demanded. Joker whined and danced back and forth trying to solve the problem as the balloon ascended higher and farther out of his reach. With a cry of frustration he quickly snatched a Batarang from Robin's belt and threw it.
Spinning through the air right on target the Batarang popped the balloon and it crashed fifty feet to the sidewalk in front of them. Joker ran over, grabbed it, and returned it to his trainer. Unimpressed Robin looked down at the torn rubber as the little boy across the street began to wail.
"What about the baby attached to this?" Robin asked. Expertly Joker mimed picking up a bundle of blankets from the ground. As he unfolded the nonexistent bundle he looked up at Robin with shock and horror.
"Oh my God, it's dead!"
"Failed," Robin sighed shaking his head.
"Flight," Robin ordered. Wobbly and unsure Joker stood on a ledge overlooking Mazuchelli Street nine stories up the rundown apartment building. Below him traffic snarled and beeped anxiously.
"Maybe we should start lower," Joker suggested but Robin wasn't going for it.
"Altitude is your friend while gliding. Now get going," he spurred him along impatiently. Wrestling with his cape in the wind Joker locked the wings in place and gritted his teeth. He jumped and spread his arms wide.
"This is my favorite one," Robin said to no one in particular chuckling evilly. Pulling out his Batscope he hit record and watched the descent with delight. To his amazement Joker managed to stay aloft among the gusting winds. Back and forth he swayed over the street completely caught up by the sheer joy of flying.
"I got it!" he screamed though no one could hear him.
"You got it!" Robin cheered from the rooftop. Unfortunately neither one of them noticed the flagless pole jutting out from below a window. The obstruction clipped his right wing sending him into deadly barrel rolls as he plummeted towards the crowded street.
"Straighten it out," Robin warned. With all his strength Joker righted himself out of the dangerous spin but he still maintained a collision course with the cement. At the last second he pulled up skimming his feet over the roofs of cars.
He would have made it too if the wide food truck in front of him hadn't slammed on their brakes. The last thing Joker saw was the text across the back of the truck that read "Gotham's Dirty Dogs". Brutally he smashed into the back of it as traffic ground to a halt. Lying in agonizing pain and eating the thick exhaust from the truck Joker heard a comm request on his earpiece.
"Failed?" he answered with a groan.
"Failed," Robin agreed and hung up.
"Stealth," Robin ordered. Joker crept behind the stalls of the fish market in Gotham's Chinatown. Here and there vendors stocked their stands for the coming morning rush. The air was briny and pungent from the mix of seafood arranged. When he saw an opening he ran out a snatched a fish from an unmanned stand. Attempting to slide back into the shadows he stopped in front of a small Asian woman leaning on a bamboo cane.
"You take fish and not pay," the old lady accused.
"Oh no ma'am, I'm just borrowing it for a second," he explained smiling, "I'll bring it right back. You can trust Batman." She proceeded to block his path.
"We trust Batman. Batman pay for fish. You no pay for fish so you not Batman," she stated poking him in the chest with her cane. Joker grew agitated at the thought of bombing another test.
"Listen mamasan, I need this fish and I'm leaving with it. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way," he threatened. At that moment three more elderly women round the corner behind his opponent while another four hobbled up behind him. Each carried an identical bamboo cane.
"Uh oh," Joker gulped.
"Mamasan think she want do it the hard way," the old lady stated with a sneer. The following caning he received was both professional and brutal. At the end four men carried him by a limb to the edge of the market where they ejected him amidst the growing crowd. Bruised and humiliated Joker sat by the trashcans feeling grateful the kid wasn't around to witness his shame. Until next to him the lid of a recycling bin slightly raised and Joker saw two eyes peeping out between the opening.
"Failed," Robin whispered and lowered the lid again.
"Aiding Citizens," Robin ordered, "This is it, the last and easiest test I can give you. There's an old lady over there waiting by the light. All you have to do is help her across the street and you pass." Joker looked at the old woman who struggled with her shopping bags all alone.
"So she's some kind of undercover assassin?" he speculated.
"No! There's no underlying surprise here! Just help her cross safely and be polite," Robin explained. Joker frowned with a furrowed brow and strolled over to her. For once hopeful Robin held his breath as he watched them talk. Shockingly the old woman smiled and handed him the bags.
Arm in arm they crossed the street talking and laughing. When they reached the other side Joker handed the bags back and bowed graciously. They parted ways waving happily. Joker came back and looked at Robin expectantly. Suspicious of the situation Robin watched her walk down the block turning another corner.
"So?" Joker asked impatiently.
"You didn't do anything to her right? No Joker gas or pineapple hand grenade in her purse?"
"What? No of course not!" Joker claimed deeply offended. Slowly Robin turned and they moved on down the street.
"Well I guess you pass this one," he conceded until he noticed Joker fumbling with something in his hands.
"What's that?" Robin demanded.
"Just my wallet," Joker insisted. Without a utility belt Robin knew it was impossible to carry a wallet. He snatched it out of his hands opening it up to Joker's protests.
"This is the old woman's wallet! You stole it from her! Why would you do that?"
"I-I needed some cash for a soda. We've been out here all night and my blood sugar is low," Joker pleaded but Robin refused to accept the excuse.
"You know what this means, right?" Robin threatened, "Possession of stolen property?"
"No kid, please! I can't take anymore!"
"Reset the clock," he stated disappointed and Joker fell to his knees.
"Muggings," Robin ordered.
Shush.
Crowne Point, the worst of the worst, sat smack in the middle of the Bowery, a Gotham district widely considered the most crime ridden in the city. Once again the dysfunctional duo combed the alleys for another mugging to begin hour one all over. It was a hot windless night that only amplified the stink of garbage wafting up from the streets.
Damian considered his Bat Breather to get away from the rotten odor as sweat ran down his forehead. Next to him Joker mopped his brow with his now filthy cape dutifully observing the city's going ons. Ahead they saw a group of unwashed, unsupervised children chasing an innocent stray dog down the sidewalk.
"Let's head south," Joker suggested so the pair hopped rooftops through the still, humid night. Out back of a well-known brothel Damian spotted something white that moved slowly in the alley. With an obvious flick of his wrist he signaled Joker to change directions.
The clown reacted appropriately to his silent order and they dropped onto the street to identify the oddity Damian noticed earlier. A woman in clean white armor hung spinning slowly from a rusty fire escape. Joker approached and poked her in the leg which only caused her to continue spinning.
"I think she's dead," Joker whispered to his partner. Damian rolled his eyes.
"Gee Batman, are you sure?" he replied sarcastically. Something about sarcasm didn't always register with Joker and Damian found it strange.
"I'm afraid so, little buddy," Joker responded absolutely serious, "Looks like a gunshot wound to the head then somebody strung her up like this. Hey! It's a mystery! I was hoping we would get one of these. Time to put all that training to good use."
"Slow down," Damian insisted, "Anybody in this city could have killed her. SECURE isn't exactly popular. How do you know this is even a mystery?" Smugly Joker pointed toward the wall where a cardboard sign sat propped up and read "Clue" with an arrow pointing down.
"If they left a clue it's got to be a mystery," Joker confirmed and went over to pick up a white card left below the sign. Though quiet Damian looked uncomfortable about the whole thing.
"Take a swim on land," Joker read, "or take a walk on water."
"I don't like any of this. Mysteries always start subtly and this is the exact opposite. Maybe it's a trap by SECURE," Damian protested but Joker wasn't listening.
"Hmm, 'take a swim on land' could refer to a public pool, but the 'walk on water' doesn't fit. Maybe waterskiing?" Joker said to himself, "No! Swimming on land can only mean quicksand which would refer to a swamp. Walking on water is clearly a religious reference but they'd obviously mean the opposite so Satan? Ah, the old satanic ritual spot out in Slaughter Swamp. That's got to be it! To the Batmobile, my trusty chum!" Joker headed down the alley only to stop when Damian didn't follow.
"How did you make such a crazy leap in logic? And why do you keep calling me buddy and stuff?" Damian demanded answers.
"Look, I spent a lot of time in the old days putting Batman and the original Robin into death traps. I know how they solve a mystery and how they banter. Are you coming or not? Would you rather go back to training?"
"Fine but this whole thing seems screwed up. Look who I'm talking to though. All right, let's go."
To Damian's amazement they found another body at the swamp proving Joker's deduction correct. Another clue card rested under the hanging corpse of the SECURE soldier. This one said something about purchasing a boxer. Joker threw out theory after wild theory until landing on the words "Ali" and "buy". To him but not the still baffled Damian the clue pointed to My Alibi, a local supervillain bar downtown. Swiftly they piled into the Batmobile as Damian wondered where all this was going.
"This can't be how they used to do it," Damian maintained in disbelief.
My Alibi sat nestled downtown next to a pawn shop that served as a fence to criminals in the know. Built in the sixties by the Irish mob the bar changed ownership like a chip passed between mafia leaders. Through a series of constantly greased palms the bar ensured GCPD stayed out no matter the investigation they were conducting. For this reason it quickly grew into a trusted place where criminals could avoid the heat and lay low.
Often Damian would stake out the bar simply to watch the crooks interact and learn their faces though he never actually ventured inside. Tonight they circumvented the line as Joker slid the cowl back. He explained to his partner they'd never make it inside otherwise. Here and there cries sounded from the slow moving line. They called him Batman and Joker and curiously even savior.
Quite a few Damian recognized as they approached the door. The gigantic doorman smiled like a fool when they reached him and without a word opened the door for them. Inside the bar teemed with all kinds of smoke and poker tables sat filled along the back wall. Everywhere they stepped Damian tested the floor as he heard the stories of trap doors and the shanghaies that used to and possible still did occur here.
"You want the usual, Mr. J?" the bartender called and Joker nodded. They slid into some chairs at the bar.
"So what's up with the kid, J? Surprised you ain't killed him yet," Bronze Tiger questioned from down the bar.
"I still might," Joker explained sipping his dry martini, "Right now we're playing a little game he came up with. He's trying to turn me and I'm trying to turn him." He stared at Damian with a smile as the boy blushed though Damian felt more anger than embarrassment.
"You're not stupid at all, are you?" Damian asked feeling the tables suddenly shift before them. Deliberately loud Joker sipped the drink with a kind of threatening purpose staring the boy in the eye.
"Is that what you think?" Joker asked without a hint of a smile in his voice, "See on my side there's not a lot of thinking necessary and there's really only one rule."
"What's that?" Damian asked nearly whispering.
"Don't spoil the game, Damian," Joker warned deadly serious. Like he was punched Damian rocked back on the barstool. For the first time and rightly so Damian felt abject fear at the thing that sat before him. Joker knew, possibly everything about them. He wasn't in any way the buffoon he let Damian believe he was. Damian remembered his father's words so clearly.
"He's not a clown." Slowly Joker's dead eyed glare turned into a mischievous smile.
"What should we do now, old chum?" he asked sincerely.
Damian thought it better for them to split up so Joker began interrogations in the back room while he worked the front. Carrying his beer between occupied chairs Damian searched for a place to sit. Nervously he approached a booth that held only one man. The man had one half of his face horribly disfigured by a particularly nasty kind of corrosive acid.
This man's name was Harvey Dent, formerly a district attorney and one time confidant to Batman himself. After the mob threw acid in his face he suffered a psychological break and became the villain known as Two Face. His famous double sided coin was scared like his face and now Harvey depended on it to make all his important decisions.
"Mr. Dent, may I sit down?" Damian asked. Harvey waved at the chair in front of him. Before he was even settled Harvey reached out and slid the teen's beer to his side of the table.
"You're underage, kid," Harvey explained.
"But this place is filled with murderers," Damian whined, "Who cares if I drink a beer?"
"If you start measuring your life against the dregs of society you're going to lead a shitty life," Harvey replied and pushed the beer back to him, "You're right though. There's people in this bar who would kill you just for that mask you put on much less the fact you're the son of their greatest enemy. So you plan on drinking what they serve you?" After a pause Damian slid the glass away from him again with a sudden lack of thirst.
"You seem different than the rest of them, Harvey," he observed.
"From who? Them? Sure. Your father? Definitely. Everybody in the world is different but they don't bother teaching you that at Batschool," Harvey stated wiping the drool from his scarred lips with a bar napkin.
"Was this all a mistake?" Damian asked with concern.
"Fuck yeah it was but you already knew that. Why don't you ask me what you really sat down here to find out?" Harvey growled, "Ask me about your father."
In the back room Joker continued his investigation interrogating suspects from the bar. His latest victim was Linda Friitawa a geneticist who worked with Scarecrow on various incapacitating chemical compounds. After a lab accident she gained super strength and the ability to exhale nerve toxins choosing to go by the alias Fright. In a low cut top and tight jeans Linda enjoyed exhibiting her assets though few men dared risk a kiss from those deadly lips.
"What were you doing last Labor Day around 4:15PM?" Joker asked pacing around the table where she sat.
"I-I don't know at a cookout maybe? That was almost a year ago," Linda replied adjusting her glasses. Joker eyed her suspiciously.
"Hmm interesting. If you had a choice would you say you prefer watermelon or mush melon?"
"What's mush melon? What does that have to do with anything?" Linda asked hostilely. Instantly Joker slammed his gloved fist on the table.
"I'm asking the questions here and I'll decide what's relevant!" he shouted.
"I guess watermelon?"
"I see, one more question please. Did you kill those SECURE troops?" Joker floated.
"What? No!" she insisted. Casually Joker opened the door and waved his hand.
"Good enough for me, get out. Oh and tell Firefly he's next," he stated.
"Will you tell me about my father?" Damian asked as Harvey leaned back and finished his whiskey neat.
"Back when, we were the same, kid. We both believed we could do the impossible. We believed in justice and that good men could make a difference. After my accident it was clear how deep the corruption went.
Why do you think Gordon turned to your father? Even he recognized it just like we did. The laws of men at best are flimsy things and at worst…" Harvey trailed off and indicated towards the scarred side of his face. With his other hand he attracted the waitress for a refill. Damian remained silent.
"Nowadays or maybe all the days people shy away from responsibility. It's easier to look for something else to blame your problems on than admit you screwed your life up, and that's exactly what I did. The funny thing is despite my failings I promise you that line between right and wrong still exists no matter how hard they try to scrub it away." Harvey got cut off by the inquisitive teen.
"Then why?" Damian wondered.
"Why be a criminal? Why leave my life to the flip of a coin? You tell me," Harvey challenged. Scrunching up his face Damian thought hard about his answer.
"Because what you thought you knew was incorrect and now you can't tell the difference between the two. You can't trust your own judgment so you leave it to the only thing that's not bias, chance," Damian replied. When Harvey smiled it was terrible.
"And just like that you know me better than your old man ever has."
"Garfield Lynns," Joker began drumming his fingers on the table, "better known as Firefly, a pyromaniac after my own heart. In and out of Blackgate for taking apart what they try so hard to keep standing. They say you see visions in the flames. Is that correct?" Without his helmet Garfield's face was a mess of scar tissue from an arson gone wrong. Emotionless he stared down the table at Joker.
"I know you talk, Garfield. I've heard it so loosen up already." Still no response came from the tightlipped man.
"Did Nermal do this to you?" Joker teased. Nothing.
"We just want the lasagna back, Garfield. Now did you take it from the kitchen or not!" Not even a smile came from the silent man. Joker slumped in his chair and sighed.
"Some audience…"
"Will you help us, Harvey?" Damian asked softly. As if he hadn't heard Harvey stared out across the bustling bar. Finally he responded.
"No I won't. Early on they came to me and I caught a glimpse of what you're up against. They aren't some joke kid. You'd need every villain in the world to stand a chance. I didn't need to flip a coin to tell me who is going to come out on top of this, but I did anyway. The sad truth is you lose kid, you and your army. Now that Bizarro's gone I figure I'll leave this city. Ride off and never look back," Harvey stated. Angrily Damian stood up.
"You know what I think? I think you're a washed up two bit crook. You're a coward who can't trust himself to make his own choices. You could have been great. You could have stood back up after they destroyed your life and continued the fight. Instead you proved them right and gave up.
You became them. That's why I don't give a damn about your excuses or your predictions. Fuck your surrender and fuck your coin, Harvey," Damian made his stand as the bar watched relatively unconcerned. Approaching from behind Joker pointed a finger over his partner's shoulder at Harvey.
"Yeah! And you're ugly!" Joker added enthusiastically. The pair headed out the back at Joker's urging to avoid the crowd.
"Those idiots don't know anything about the murders. I still don't get it. We should have run into Cluemaster," Joker mumbled to himself. Before they exited the back door Damian stopped in his tracks and glared at him.
"Why would we run into Cluemaster?"
"Huh? Oh no reason," he claimed suspiciously. Finally Damian understood the situation like he should have from the beginning.
"You set it all up! From the first body to now that's how you figured out all those stupid clues. We've been running around chasing our tails for nothing! I should have known." Damian stormed out the back door.
"Hey you had fun though-" Joker began to protest until they both stopped at what appeared in front of them in the alley. The unconscious snoring body of Cluemaster Arthur Brown lay crumpled in a mountain of trash bags. With gritted teeth Damian turned on his fun loving sidekick.
"Don't look at me, old friend-chum. This isn't part of the script," Joker claimed as a figure behind the dumpster coughed. Leaning against a cracked wall the figure wore gauze around his face to hide his appearance. A heavy tan trench coat with popped collar shifted around him as he lit the cigarette between his lips.
"You call that a mystery?" the figure asked stepping into the light, "You should have come to me first."
"Hush," Damian named him breathlessly.
"That's right boy. I figured it was time you and I had a long talk about things," the mysterious man called Hush smiled at him, "But before that why don't you get over here and give your Uncle Tommy a hug?"
Next Time On.
"Ok everyone, where are we?" Damian asked the crowded table in front of him.
"We're at the warehouse," Joker whispered over his shoulder. More than fed up Damian instantly spun towards him in his chair.
"That's it! You're out. I'm done with you for the day. Harley should be outside ready to pick you up. Report back tomorrow night and we start again," Damian decreed. Joker saluted curtly and headed for the door. Happily he strolled out of the warehouse whistling a tune to "I've Been Working on the Railroad". Harley's purple roadster sat idling against the rising sun. Opening the door he slumped into the passenger's seat next to her.
"Hey puddin'! How was work today?" Harley asked sweetly, "Did you boys save Gotham?"
"We saved everyone, dear. I've got to say I don't know if I'm cut out for this nine to five stuff though," he stated sighing with exhaustion, "That kid is wound tighter than the original which I didn't even think was possible." Patting him softly on the shoulder Harley slipped the car into gear and they shot off into the morning light.
"He's just hard on you cuz he knows you got potential. I know how you feel though. My assignment hasn't exactly been easy either."
"Something is strange about it all. Back when Batman was around I never worried about the future. I somehow knew we'd go on forever but it's different now, like I've been ground down and dulled. I didn't even stab anybody today."
"How does that make you feel?" she asked.
"It's an odd feeling, almost anxious but worse. I worry about how this will turn out. I think-I think I'm scared, Harley," he suggested and she didn't like the sound of that at all.
Back at the warehouse Damian heard status reports from each wing of Gotham's Militia. Short of his own failure in taming the monster he found things proceeded surprisingly well. The tech gurus mostly completed arming his soldiers and intelligence agents combed through the data collected by their carefully selected incursions into SECURE territory. Auxiliary teams breached multiple outlying SECURE facilities, strictly smash and grab jobs to test response time and firepower. So far they encountered little resistance which made Damian all the more suspicious.
"Everything is on track going better than expected and I don't like it at all. Why is that?" Damian asked his generals gathered around him. Mere weeks ago these criminals would have tortured and killed him for nothing. It wasn't that way anymore as a strange respect grew among them for their tough as nails leader. He suspected his dealings with Joker earned him credibility from the majority with the rest recognizing his capacity as a leader and warrior.
"We got word from Metropolis and Star City, some others too," Penguin began, "SECURE has popped up there too but all logistics teams still claim they're basing everything off of Gotham. Other than that we're still mostly in the dark."
"I know what they're planning," Hush spoke up at the end of the table. Everyone turned simultaneously to stare at his unreadable face. Years ago Hush, the man believed to be Tommy Elliot, led Batman into a mystery so deep it still couldn't be considered fully solved. Another rich boy Elliot grew up alongside Bruce where they attended a private academy.
After a car accident Elliot's parents were critically injured and he came to the nearby Wayne Manor for assistance. While Thomas Wayne did his best to save them Bruce promised his friend they would survive. Unfortunately only Elliot's mother could be saved and he never forgave Bruce. Years later Bruce would discover Elliot himself sabotaged the car to inherit his parent's fortune.
"I'd love to hear how you know that, mummy man," Harpy snorted. Since her battle with Bizarro she'd become something of a cult hero within the Militia.
"Simple, I'm working for them," Hush replied. Before anyone could react Slade slammed Elliot on the table and bared his sword against the man's throat.
"Call off your dog, kid," Hush warned.
"Slade." Damian called and waited until he let go, "If I don't like what he says I'll kill him myself." Then Hush relayed his own story, a shadowy meeting with SECURE and his recruitment. He told the group of their leaders the Tripping Darlings and the otherworldly forces that seemed to control them.
"What do they want?" Penguin asked when he finished.
"Destroy the Batman and kill every last one of you," Hush answered.
"So what do we do?" Damian pressed.
"Well that's obvious. You don't let them." Quickly the meeting grew out of control until Damian ordered quiet again. On his insistence someone woke up Professor Pyg who rested on the table snoring softly since the beginning of the meeting.
"Is it over yet?" Lazlo asked lifting his droopy eyed head off the table.
"Almost Professor," Damian assured, "We're just waiting on your report. Looks like you boys in the science labs have been putting in late nights."
"That's true but I'm drunk actually, thoroughly trounced," Lazlo replied, "We completed the project some hours ahead of schedule so Strange brought out some bottles of whiskey. There were quite a number of toasts to be made." At his signal Mr. Toad, who didn't get much sleep either due to his assignment with Harley, activated the projector displaying pictures of the now complete experiment. A collective impressed breath sighed from the audience.
"Fully functional and ready for deployment," Lazlo explained laying his head back down on the table.
"Professor, this is some excellent work. Are you ready for your next assignment?" Damian asked but Lazlo had already fallen back asleep. He chuckled at the overworked professor and turned back to the group.
"Now all we need is their home address so we can drop it on their doorstep," Damian declared. From the end of the table Hush cleared his throat removing an envelope from his trench coat. He slid it down to the boy who opened it reading the contents.
"Okay, no more screwing around," Damian promised as much to himself as anyone, "It's time to fire the first true shot in this war."
"The first and the last," Penguin piped up, "No one can stop this." Earnestly Damian turned to him with complete confidence.
"My father will stop it." No one had the heart to disagree with him.