Parallel Lines
Chapter 1: Storm Clouds
So what exactly have you stumbled upon? This is a tale set out of phase with reality and out of context, squarely placed in the future, and although the places and settings have remained the same the characters have changed. So let us presume that we are witnessing a time and place where an industrious author has sorted through the history and explained away all nuances and inconsistencies that this future may provide, and that this same author, in his spare moments while we dared to look away, had exacted something…terrible...
…
A harsh wind blows across the desolate landscape as a lone warrior prepares for the coming onslaught. Beads of sweat drip down the warrior's flared skin, the light garb providing little protection or insulation from the heat. The sun looms high overhead as a constant reminder of the sole rule of the desert: There is no relief. The warrior pauses.
The desert is not as barren a landscape as many would have you believe. It teems with life, and all it takes is some patience and a little effort to capture these creatures, both plant and animal. However, these organisms call the desert home, whereas the human body does not. A penance is paid for each day in this most harsh of climates, and the warrior knows this. So it is odd that this oh so familiar, and oh so human odour would permeate the warrior's senses, so faint yet so near, beneath the sand…
Three figures rise up to greet the intruder, each wielding a lethal blade. The warrior does not hesitate and strikes the first attacker in the throat with a pointed finger. He falls and sub-comes without a sound. The remaining foes leap in unison, side-by-side, and lash out at the warrior with their flashing blades. Each slash is parried by the stranger, one arm used per assailant to drive the weapons away from the body. The warrior's two arms then take a hold of each enemy's head and drive the two minds to meet with a sickening thud. Neither opponent will rise from the sand again.
The warrior feels the earth begin to move as a strange elevator rises from the sand. Glass doors part and a shrouded figure steps forth to cover the warrior with a damp cloth to sooth his scorched skin while escorting him back to the elevator. The doors close and they begin their journey into the bowels of the earth.
"Excellent!" the warrior whispers in a dialect known only to a select few, "There is still much to prepare, but I am at the ready. The time shall soon be nigh…"
…
Somewhere on the ocean is a small yacht travelling steadily upon its path, its bow bobbing gingerly upwards with each crest, and downwards with the inevitable trough. Greying clouds twist and swirl as a sharp wind dashes ripples upon the once smooth sea. There is a storm coming, one that will sorely test the small craft's buoyancy to its limits, and all have taken shelter within save for one who ponders their predicament. His mind wanders from sunny and calm Caribbean waters the yacht had set sail from to the tempest before them.
What could possess a human spirit to undergo such a quest is a question he poses to himself each day, and each day the answer is the same, his memories just as vivid as ever. A single, violent moment when he was just a child barely out of diapers, strolling home from the theatre with his parents...
He turns away from the sea and stares at his ship and his thoughts shift accordingly to the passengers within as he desperately tries to quell the grisly recollection. Once more the memories are as vivid as life and he can see the faces, recall the names of those his hands have terminated. The laughing face, sneering at all that was decent, at the death of his friends, allies…his son…
"Enough," he mutters. He can't escape his morbid history. There's a storm coming and he must seek shelter.
Reaching the door he twists the knob to open it and is greeted by a grinning face. Her features show pure amusement, with a mischievous glint in her pale blue eyes as her two pig-tails dangling in space as she hangs upside-down before him, still wearing the shorts and shirt she purchased as souvenirs.
"Finally decided to come inside, boss?" she asks in a familiar, bubbly yet squeaky voice as she winks slyly.
"Harley Quinn," he answers with a grin of his own, amused by her sudden appearance, as always. She giggles ever so slightly at his response. She composes herself, "Ivy's waitin' for us. She says she's got a line on Gotham again." She leans forward and ever so gently kisses his forehead, "Tag! You're it!" and she lets go of her perch, falls back down the stairs and twisting mid-air she lands on her feet. With only a quick glance behind her she runs towards the kitchen, and Ivy.
He's still smiling as he wipes his brow of the kiss, and with the same hand feels his lips and the grotesque grin they make. Permanently scarred by the selfsame playful girl, his mouth can now only express one emotion. 'Funny,' he thinks, 'I should hate her, but I just…can't.' And he begins after her.
…
In Gotham City the storm had already hit, bringing with it a bitter chill and dense drizzle only a few weeks from the winter holidays. Everyone hopes for a change in the weather, that the cold remains to convert the rain to sleet then snow for a white Christmas. Thus far it remains to be seen and the present blackness does nothing to raise spirits. Instead the good citizens find themselves walking a little quicker, driving a little faster, and remaining indoors a little longer than normal. It's the kind of weather that only the mad would enjoy, and Gotham is a home to the mad.
Within Arkham's Asylum for the Criminally Insane the residents are a little more agitated than normal. Those deemed extremely high risks are kept behind lock and key as they pace the floor, muttering inaudible blasphemies upon unseen enemies. The others are allowed to roam the designated areas, with each one heavily barred and guarded to prevent any escape. Even within these well insulated areas the inmates could sense the shift in the air and it causes unrest. Some rock back and forth, while others stare blankly at the rain. Some, however, are content to sit back and stare at the insanity around them.
One such man is a rotund little fellow with a long, pointed nose, and if one were to pay careful attention to his face one could also see a crease where a monocle may lay and an impression across the scalp made by a top hat. His hands crossed he sits at his table for two and looks on, muttering now and again at the truly bizarre behaviour, "Waugh! Madness…" So engrossed is he by the sights that he does not notice the large man walking up from behind until his hand is placed upon his shoulder.
The rotund little man turns with a start and looks straight at the face of both the most handsome and most repugnant man he's ever met. "Harvey," the little man remarks, trying to look away from his guest's face. Half its features are unmarred, and the other half show deeply scarred tissue caused by acid hurled at him when he was district attorney of Gotham. The acid did more than simply remove his handsome features, but also the veneer of good that the attorney used in the city's service, replacing it with a bizarre malice and a two headed coin used to determine Two-Face's motives, whether honourable or vile.
Two-Face smiles back as he sits, "Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot! As I live and breathe! What are you doing here? I mean, using birds as your modus operandi wasn't insane; stupid, yes, but not insane. So what brings you here? No, wait, don't tell me! Let me guess! You finally got too…close to your pet birds, eh?
Oswald sneers at his guest, "Harvey, don't provoke me. I didn't come here to be insulted by the likes of you."
Two-Face laughs ever so slightly, "You? You wanted to be put in here? Penguin, have you completely flipped your gourd? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you have!" And he laughs again.
The Penguin leans closer to Harvey Dent, "Yes, I wanted to be put in here. Listen to me Harvey, I faked a psychotic episode at Blackgate so I could get in here..."
"Faked an episode? Yeah, right. Come on, Oswald, you're not an actor, you're a ham," and he giggles, "No, not a ham, a turkey."
"Tell that to the warden," Penguin sneers back, his mood underlining a vicious streak, "and maybe he'll show you the pictures of my handiwork. The amount of blood…I'm surprised myself."
Something in Oswald's voice tells Two-Face that he's being earnest. He quells the light-hearted comedy and asks, in a genuinely intrigued tone, "What did you do?"
"That's for another time Harvey," Oswald smiles back, "The important thing is I'm here, now, because I need your help."
"Help…?"
"He's out there, waiting for us. We're not safe in here, you know that. He can come in here and get us as we sleep, just like that. It was different before, we would have to be at our best to try and get away, or to kill him, and even at our best he'd escape, track us down and lock us away until next we duelled. However, the situation has changed, my comrade. With Joker's demise he has shown us that the stakes are now much higher. We cannot venture forth with our…ahem…extracurricular activities, and we must endure inane therapy sessions for fear of the ultimate reprisal from him. You're an intelligent human being, Harvey. Do you honestly believe he will be content with the Joker's sacrifice now that he has tasted blood? We've all killed before, and know what a slippery slope it is, how much easier it is to murder for the second time, the third, the fourth, until it becomes as rudimentary as brushing one's teeth. No, we are doomed my friend, and I say we must act. It is no longer a game of cops and robbers, but war! Kill, or be killed, and I require your intellect, your connections, your savvy, skill and contempt for human life so that we all may live!"
Two-Face pauses for a second before replying, "You're talking about Batman, aren't you?"
Penguin rolls his eyes skyward in disbelief and gives a mocking, "Yes."
Two-Face briefly scratches his chin as he mulls over the offer. He sneers before answering, "What the hell, I'm in."
"Riddle me this!" a voice hollers at them and both men turn to the side of the table where a lithe, dark haired man stands, his large grin resting comfortably between a pointed chin and large nose, "What two fools rush into a graveyard?"
Penguin sighs heavily as he realizes that this idiot won't leave his sight until he replies, "I don't know, Edward. What two…"
With lightning reflexes Edward smashes his fists onto the skulls of Penguin and Two-Face with a deceptive strength. Each man grabs hold of his ringing head as Edward screams his answer, "A pair of BONEHEADS! This is what you two are going to be if you go after Batman. Mark my words! I'll be laughing at your graves, you idiots! You're both mad, I tell you, stark raving MAD!" Edward continues to scream as he's grabbed by a nearby orderly and dragged away.
"Madness…!" Penguin gasps as his head continues to throb.
"Forget him," Two-Face mutters when the guards are out of earshot, his ears still ringing, "we've got plans to make…"
…
As the evening wears on so does the rain, pushing one young man towards the brink. It's his duty to stand guard outside the brownstone behind him, to ensure the safety of the occupant within. To most members of the Gotham's finest being selected to protect the Commissioner's home is considered a great honour that's only reserved to those with exemplary records. It's usually received as a reward, a normally easy task given to those who've worked hard and deserve a moment's peace, except on nights when psychopaths such as the Joker seek the Commissioner's life, or other nights when the weather rears its ugly side. Tonight falls under the latter, although there is still time for the former.
The officer sighs heavily as his rain drenched body tries to combat the cold that still manages to seep past his layers of cloth covered warmth. He rubs his hands furiously to keep them from going numb, raising them occasionally to blow warm air upon them. It's then that he notices the delivery van pull up and the young courier whom had stepped forth from the vehicle walking towards him. The officer smiles gratefully for the distraction from the cold.
"Got a package here," the courier smiles after briefly directing his eyes to the brown paper covered box, "but I guess no one's home. What happened? Someone axe a family or something?"
"Nah," the officer smiles back, "Don't you know who lives here? This here's the home of Police Commissioner James W. Gordon!"
The courier blinks for a moment, feigning disbelief, "Huh. Still, I need someone to sign for it."
"I'll…" the officer begins, only to hear the click of a gun hammer being pulled back. Both men turn to one side and see a man dressed in pyjamas and a robe standing barefoot in the rain soaked grass. His eyes show steel-like determination behind his glasses, belying each of his many years as evidenced by his white hair on his head and moustache.
"Commissioner?" the officer stammers, noticing the barrel of the revolver was pointed directly at the courier's head.
James Gordon ignores the question and yells, "Put the package gently onto the ground and step back!"
"Look man," the courier stammers, his hands beginning to shake, "Just chill, okay?"
"Son, don't question a man pointing a loaded gun at your head! Now put the package down! Do it!"
"Commissioner?" the officer calls once more.
"I didn't order, and wasn't expecting, a damned box! Okay? Now put the damned thing down and step back!!" Gordon yells even louder.
The courier begins to crouch down…lower…lower…and screams as a fireball bursts through the top of the package, incinerating his face! The officer lunges at the mass of flames and tackles the young man onto the moist lawn, desperately trying to douse the smouldering mass of humanity beneath him. Gordon can only stare as a tiny metallic nozzle pops up from the box's remainders and begins spraying liquid flame at his home. Even in a dense rain the chemical additives ensure a rapid burn.
"Well, Gordo," a voice calls forth from the box. Gordon can scarcely believe his ears and blinks in disbelief. Dumbfounded, he simply stands there and listens as box and home continue to burn, "You and Batsy certainly showed me a hot time in the manor, so I thought it was only fair for me to return the favour. See you round, buddy." And the laugh that followed sent a chill down his spine, causing him to fall to his knees as the flames grow higher.
"But the Joker," Gordon whispers hoarsely, "the Joker is dead…"
TO BE CONTINUED…
Hi there, and thanks for reading the first chapter of this story.
This tale is set as a sequel to "Faces and Names" and its own prequel, "Wonderland." Below is a brief summary of "Wonderland" and "Faces and Names"; please read it at your leisure. Future chapters to "Parallel Lines" will be provided with a brief description of the events that have preceded it. Feel free to review, critique, belittle…or to simply let me know if there's anything I've forgotten, flubbed or finagled.
Summary of Wonderland:
The Mad Hatter, Tweedledee and Tweedledum recruit a helper in a seedy Gotham bar by inciting a brawl among the patrons via mind control. The helper, dubbed Walrus, has a small electronic device implanted in his skull to put him completely under the Hatter's sway, and to also boost the adrenaline output of his body, making him stronger, faster, etc…. They then gather the Carpenter, who is an actual carpenter they had kidnapped, and commandeer a radio station. The Hatter has already drugged the city's water supply and uses a large device to broadcast a signal across Gotham to set the drugged population under his control. Plugging in the Carpenter provides the citizens with the skill needed to perform the monumental task of remodelling Gotham into the Hatter's vision of Wonderland. With his fantasy about to become reality the Hatter is overjoyed, until Batman appears. He severs the hook-up between the Carpenter and his device, and makes short work of Dee and Dum. The Walrus is more difficult to stop, but he manages to trap him by dangling him over the side of the station's roof. During the melee the Hatter escapes, with the Walrus soon following suit…
Faces and Names Summary:
So, this is going to take some condensing. Joker escapes from Arkham and Batman seeks him like a man possessed, causing a near panic/riot among Gothamites. Gordon manages to quell the panic, but is subsequently kidnapped by the Joker. The Joker wants Gordon to give his best guess at who Batman is under the mask.
A clue arrives at Police Headquarters for the Batman, one that only Bruce Wayne could answer if he were the man under the mask. The clue prompts Batman to crime alley, and then to Gordon's prison, where he arrives in the nick of time. From the darkness Joker fires a Tommy gun, killing what turns out to be a Joker decoy and wounding Batman. Gordon then battles the Batman while Joker slinks away as Gordon is being controlled by a device of the Hatter's making. Batman frees Gordon by removing the hat, but not before Gordon suffers severe injury. As Batman leaves Gordon manages a, "This is war," with regards to the Joker. Batman then goes after Joker, makes it through his gauntlet and takes aim with Alfred's old revolver. He shoots the Joker just before the building starts to collapse, and although no one else knows for sure, the mad clown manages to get away…
Some nights later vigilante slayings begin to occur throughout Gotham with all signs pointing to Batman. Gordon, almost healed save for his mangled right arm, discovers the gun Batman had that night in the Joker's warehouse, while Bullock begins gathering other evidence. Gordon confronts Bruce Wayne about the night at Joker's now collapsed lair. Bruce confesses everything but claims his innocence, stating Batman was under the Hatter's device's spell, having to use it as an edge to bypass the Joker's gauntlet (remember the faster, stronger, etc. part of Wonderland). That, coupled with an order from Gordon that "This is war" sent Batman over the edge. Gordon suspects there is more going on than Bruce is willing to say and puts Bruce under house arrest.
Meantime Harley Quinn convinces a reformed Ivy to spring her from Arkham so she could pay her final respects to Mr. J. Once there, however, Harley tries digging Joker out of his collapsed hideaway, only to get shot through the back for her trouble by the vigilante killer. She's rushed to hospital. The same night Joker's old psychiatrist Dr. Marcus is also slain by the same killer.
Bullock confronts Gordon with the evidence. Gordon remains unconvinced as the question looms, "Why would he kill a psychologist? Harley, pushers, gang bangers, okay, that fits, but a shrink?" Bullock does some checking on Dr. Marcus and finds each quarry already questioned by a Det. MacMurtney, "But there's no MacMurtney on the force!" Bullock gives Gordon what he managed to find and Gordon finds a secret message within each clue left by MacMurtney, revealing that MacMurtney is in fact Bruce Wayne. Bruce is trying to explain his plans to his only true friend with a simple anagram for "My turn caMe." Gordon rushes to Wayne Manor and is made prisoner by the Batman.
Meanwhile, hearing of Harley's predicament incites the once reformed Ivy to escape and she immediately hunts for Gordon as a means to get to the Batman (the perceived vigilante killer in the media). She tracks him to Wayne Manor and traps both Batman and Gordon, but is then shot from behind by another, much happier, Batman. Guess who? Bruce detonates Wayne Manor with incendiary devices, burning Ivy's plant bonds and he fights the Joker/Batman, unsuccessfully. Seems Joker also got the idea to use the Hatter's device to boost his own strength, speed, tolerance to pain etc. Gordon urges Bruce to save Ivy's life as he covers them, "Promise me!" He does. Gordon holds the Joker at bay with his gun, getting the Joker to confess to everything before using his final shot to bring the weakened manor ceiling down upon them.
Joker saves Gordon and uses him as a hostage to get an explanation from Batman as to why he has such a recent fatal hatred for the clown. Batman gives the truth as he buys some time, explaining that Joker's stunt on the bridge nearly two years ago, obliterating it with the Human Bomb, took the lives of two of his trusted friends; and his stunt in the school with the Walrus (on "permanent loan" to the Joker) fatally wounded another. Then, Batman was forced to pull-the-plug on the fatally wounded friend and he fell into utter despair, prompting him to set a final suicidal plan in motion. So Bruce had his most hated enemy goaded into escape by Dr. Marcus, an accomplice of Bruce's that Joker later killed. Batman and Joker were set on a collision course of Bruce's design, one that would lead to mutual destruction. Bruce then strikes, shoving the Joker back into a wild set of vines Ivy had grown before passing out. Bruce could kill him, but doesn't. Restrained, the Joker goads Batman, telling him one of his slain "Batman Family" was expecting when she died. Enraged, Batman removes the Hatter's device from Joker's cowl and smashes it. His last link to life severed, the Joker dies and Bruce escapes into the night with Ivy.
Bruce later frees a miraculously cured Harley so she could donate blood to save Ivy. Once Ivy is safe Bruce leaves himself open for Harley's revenge, but she's unable to kill him. Instead she cleaves Bruce's cheeks, leaving a scar that resembles a hideous grin. Satisfied her need for vengeance has been sated Bruce explains that he promised to keep Ivy safe, and will take her away from Gotham to do so, and that Harley is welcome to join them. She accepts, after all, "How can I say no to such a…enchanting smile…"
That's it for the summaries, now onto chapter 2…
Chapter 1: Storm Clouds
So what exactly have you stumbled upon? This is a tale set out of phase with reality and out of context, squarely placed in the future, and although the places and settings have remained the same the characters have changed. So let us presume that we are witnessing a time and place where an industrious author has sorted through the history and explained away all nuances and inconsistencies that this future may provide, and that this same author, in his spare moments while we dared to look away, had exacted something…terrible...
…
A harsh wind blows across the desolate landscape as a lone warrior prepares for the coming onslaught. Beads of sweat drip down the warrior's flared skin, the light garb providing little protection or insulation from the heat. The sun looms high overhead as a constant reminder of the sole rule of the desert: There is no relief. The warrior pauses.
The desert is not as barren a landscape as many would have you believe. It teems with life, and all it takes is some patience and a little effort to capture these creatures, both plant and animal. However, these organisms call the desert home, whereas the human body does not. A penance is paid for each day in this most harsh of climates, and the warrior knows this. So it is odd that this oh so familiar, and oh so human odour would permeate the warrior's senses, so faint yet so near, beneath the sand…
Three figures rise up to greet the intruder, each wielding a lethal blade. The warrior does not hesitate and strikes the first attacker in the throat with a pointed finger. He falls and sub-comes without a sound. The remaining foes leap in unison, side-by-side, and lash out at the warrior with their flashing blades. Each slash is parried by the stranger, one arm used per assailant to drive the weapons away from the body. The warrior's two arms then take a hold of each enemy's head and drive the two minds to meet with a sickening thud. Neither opponent will rise from the sand again.
The warrior feels the earth begin to move as a strange elevator rises from the sand. Glass doors part and a shrouded figure steps forth to cover the warrior with a damp cloth to sooth his scorched skin while escorting him back to the elevator. The doors close and they begin their journey into the bowels of the earth.
"Excellent!" the warrior whispers in a dialect known only to a select few, "There is still much to prepare, but I am at the ready. The time shall soon be nigh…"
…
Somewhere on the ocean is a small yacht travelling steadily upon its path, its bow bobbing gingerly upwards with each crest, and downwards with the inevitable trough. Greying clouds twist and swirl as a sharp wind dashes ripples upon the once smooth sea. There is a storm coming, one that will sorely test the small craft's buoyancy to its limits, and all have taken shelter within save for one who ponders their predicament. His mind wanders from sunny and calm Caribbean waters the yacht had set sail from to the tempest before them.
What could possess a human spirit to undergo such a quest is a question he poses to himself each day, and each day the answer is the same, his memories just as vivid as ever. A single, violent moment when he was just a child barely out of diapers, strolling home from the theatre with his parents...
He turns away from the sea and stares at his ship and his thoughts shift accordingly to the passengers within as he desperately tries to quell the grisly recollection. Once more the memories are as vivid as life and he can see the faces, recall the names of those his hands have terminated. The laughing face, sneering at all that was decent, at the death of his friends, allies…his son…
"Enough," he mutters. He can't escape his morbid history. There's a storm coming and he must seek shelter.
Reaching the door he twists the knob to open it and is greeted by a grinning face. Her features show pure amusement, with a mischievous glint in her pale blue eyes as her two pig-tails dangling in space as she hangs upside-down before him, still wearing the shorts and shirt she purchased as souvenirs.
"Finally decided to come inside, boss?" she asks in a familiar, bubbly yet squeaky voice as she winks slyly.
"Harley Quinn," he answers with a grin of his own, amused by her sudden appearance, as always. She giggles ever so slightly at his response. She composes herself, "Ivy's waitin' for us. She says she's got a line on Gotham again." She leans forward and ever so gently kisses his forehead, "Tag! You're it!" and she lets go of her perch, falls back down the stairs and twisting mid-air she lands on her feet. With only a quick glance behind her she runs towards the kitchen, and Ivy.
He's still smiling as he wipes his brow of the kiss, and with the same hand feels his lips and the grotesque grin they make. Permanently scarred by the selfsame playful girl, his mouth can now only express one emotion. 'Funny,' he thinks, 'I should hate her, but I just…can't.' And he begins after her.
…
In Gotham City the storm had already hit, bringing with it a bitter chill and dense drizzle only a few weeks from the winter holidays. Everyone hopes for a change in the weather, that the cold remains to convert the rain to sleet then snow for a white Christmas. Thus far it remains to be seen and the present blackness does nothing to raise spirits. Instead the good citizens find themselves walking a little quicker, driving a little faster, and remaining indoors a little longer than normal. It's the kind of weather that only the mad would enjoy, and Gotham is a home to the mad.
Within Arkham's Asylum for the Criminally Insane the residents are a little more agitated than normal. Those deemed extremely high risks are kept behind lock and key as they pace the floor, muttering inaudible blasphemies upon unseen enemies. The others are allowed to roam the designated areas, with each one heavily barred and guarded to prevent any escape. Even within these well insulated areas the inmates could sense the shift in the air and it causes unrest. Some rock back and forth, while others stare blankly at the rain. Some, however, are content to sit back and stare at the insanity around them.
One such man is a rotund little fellow with a long, pointed nose, and if one were to pay careful attention to his face one could also see a crease where a monocle may lay and an impression across the scalp made by a top hat. His hands crossed he sits at his table for two and looks on, muttering now and again at the truly bizarre behaviour, "Waugh! Madness…" So engrossed is he by the sights that he does not notice the large man walking up from behind until his hand is placed upon his shoulder.
The rotund little man turns with a start and looks straight at the face of both the most handsome and most repugnant man he's ever met. "Harvey," the little man remarks, trying to look away from his guest's face. Half its features are unmarred, and the other half show deeply scarred tissue caused by acid hurled at him when he was district attorney of Gotham. The acid did more than simply remove his handsome features, but also the veneer of good that the attorney used in the city's service, replacing it with a bizarre malice and a two headed coin used to determine Two-Face's motives, whether honourable or vile.
Two-Face smiles back as he sits, "Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot! As I live and breathe! What are you doing here? I mean, using birds as your modus operandi wasn't insane; stupid, yes, but not insane. So what brings you here? No, wait, don't tell me! Let me guess! You finally got too…close to your pet birds, eh?
Oswald sneers at his guest, "Harvey, don't provoke me. I didn't come here to be insulted by the likes of you."
Two-Face laughs ever so slightly, "You? You wanted to be put in here? Penguin, have you completely flipped your gourd? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you have!" And he laughs again.
The Penguin leans closer to Harvey Dent, "Yes, I wanted to be put in here. Listen to me Harvey, I faked a psychotic episode at Blackgate so I could get in here..."
"Faked an episode? Yeah, right. Come on, Oswald, you're not an actor, you're a ham," and he giggles, "No, not a ham, a turkey."
"Tell that to the warden," Penguin sneers back, his mood underlining a vicious streak, "and maybe he'll show you the pictures of my handiwork. The amount of blood…I'm surprised myself."
Something in Oswald's voice tells Two-Face that he's being earnest. He quells the light-hearted comedy and asks, in a genuinely intrigued tone, "What did you do?"
"That's for another time Harvey," Oswald smiles back, "The important thing is I'm here, now, because I need your help."
"Help…?"
"He's out there, waiting for us. We're not safe in here, you know that. He can come in here and get us as we sleep, just like that. It was different before, we would have to be at our best to try and get away, or to kill him, and even at our best he'd escape, track us down and lock us away until next we duelled. However, the situation has changed, my comrade. With Joker's demise he has shown us that the stakes are now much higher. We cannot venture forth with our…ahem…extracurricular activities, and we must endure inane therapy sessions for fear of the ultimate reprisal from him. You're an intelligent human being, Harvey. Do you honestly believe he will be content with the Joker's sacrifice now that he has tasted blood? We've all killed before, and know what a slippery slope it is, how much easier it is to murder for the second time, the third, the fourth, until it becomes as rudimentary as brushing one's teeth. No, we are doomed my friend, and I say we must act. It is no longer a game of cops and robbers, but war! Kill, or be killed, and I require your intellect, your connections, your savvy, skill and contempt for human life so that we all may live!"
Two-Face pauses for a second before replying, "You're talking about Batman, aren't you?"
Penguin rolls his eyes skyward in disbelief and gives a mocking, "Yes."
Two-Face briefly scratches his chin as he mulls over the offer. He sneers before answering, "What the hell, I'm in."
"Riddle me this!" a voice hollers at them and both men turn to the side of the table where a lithe, dark haired man stands, his large grin resting comfortably between a pointed chin and large nose, "What two fools rush into a graveyard?"
Penguin sighs heavily as he realizes that this idiot won't leave his sight until he replies, "I don't know, Edward. What two…"
With lightning reflexes Edward smashes his fists onto the skulls of Penguin and Two-Face with a deceptive strength. Each man grabs hold of his ringing head as Edward screams his answer, "A pair of BONEHEADS! This is what you two are going to be if you go after Batman. Mark my words! I'll be laughing at your graves, you idiots! You're both mad, I tell you, stark raving MAD!" Edward continues to scream as he's grabbed by a nearby orderly and dragged away.
"Madness…!" Penguin gasps as his head continues to throb.
"Forget him," Two-Face mutters when the guards are out of earshot, his ears still ringing, "we've got plans to make…"
…
As the evening wears on so does the rain, pushing one young man towards the brink. It's his duty to stand guard outside the brownstone behind him, to ensure the safety of the occupant within. To most members of the Gotham's finest being selected to protect the Commissioner's home is considered a great honour that's only reserved to those with exemplary records. It's usually received as a reward, a normally easy task given to those who've worked hard and deserve a moment's peace, except on nights when psychopaths such as the Joker seek the Commissioner's life, or other nights when the weather rears its ugly side. Tonight falls under the latter, although there is still time for the former.
The officer sighs heavily as his rain drenched body tries to combat the cold that still manages to seep past his layers of cloth covered warmth. He rubs his hands furiously to keep them from going numb, raising them occasionally to blow warm air upon them. It's then that he notices the delivery van pull up and the young courier whom had stepped forth from the vehicle walking towards him. The officer smiles gratefully for the distraction from the cold.
"Got a package here," the courier smiles after briefly directing his eyes to the brown paper covered box, "but I guess no one's home. What happened? Someone axe a family or something?"
"Nah," the officer smiles back, "Don't you know who lives here? This here's the home of Police Commissioner James W. Gordon!"
The courier blinks for a moment, feigning disbelief, "Huh. Still, I need someone to sign for it."
"I'll…" the officer begins, only to hear the click of a gun hammer being pulled back. Both men turn to one side and see a man dressed in pyjamas and a robe standing barefoot in the rain soaked grass. His eyes show steel-like determination behind his glasses, belying each of his many years as evidenced by his white hair on his head and moustache.
"Commissioner?" the officer stammers, noticing the barrel of the revolver was pointed directly at the courier's head.
James Gordon ignores the question and yells, "Put the package gently onto the ground and step back!"
"Look man," the courier stammers, his hands beginning to shake, "Just chill, okay?"
"Son, don't question a man pointing a loaded gun at your head! Now put the package down! Do it!"
"Commissioner?" the officer calls once more.
"I didn't order, and wasn't expecting, a damned box! Okay? Now put the damned thing down and step back!!" Gordon yells even louder.
The courier begins to crouch down…lower…lower…and screams as a fireball bursts through the top of the package, incinerating his face! The officer lunges at the mass of flames and tackles the young man onto the moist lawn, desperately trying to douse the smouldering mass of humanity beneath him. Gordon can only stare as a tiny metallic nozzle pops up from the box's remainders and begins spraying liquid flame at his home. Even in a dense rain the chemical additives ensure a rapid burn.
"Well, Gordo," a voice calls forth from the box. Gordon can scarcely believe his ears and blinks in disbelief. Dumbfounded, he simply stands there and listens as box and home continue to burn, "You and Batsy certainly showed me a hot time in the manor, so I thought it was only fair for me to return the favour. See you round, buddy." And the laugh that followed sent a chill down his spine, causing him to fall to his knees as the flames grow higher.
"But the Joker," Gordon whispers hoarsely, "the Joker is dead…"
TO BE CONTINUED…
Hi there, and thanks for reading the first chapter of this story.
This tale is set as a sequel to "Faces and Names" and its own prequel, "Wonderland." Below is a brief summary of "Wonderland" and "Faces and Names"; please read it at your leisure. Future chapters to "Parallel Lines" will be provided with a brief description of the events that have preceded it. Feel free to review, critique, belittle…or to simply let me know if there's anything I've forgotten, flubbed or finagled.
Summary of Wonderland:
The Mad Hatter, Tweedledee and Tweedledum recruit a helper in a seedy Gotham bar by inciting a brawl among the patrons via mind control. The helper, dubbed Walrus, has a small electronic device implanted in his skull to put him completely under the Hatter's sway, and to also boost the adrenaline output of his body, making him stronger, faster, etc…. They then gather the Carpenter, who is an actual carpenter they had kidnapped, and commandeer a radio station. The Hatter has already drugged the city's water supply and uses a large device to broadcast a signal across Gotham to set the drugged population under his control. Plugging in the Carpenter provides the citizens with the skill needed to perform the monumental task of remodelling Gotham into the Hatter's vision of Wonderland. With his fantasy about to become reality the Hatter is overjoyed, until Batman appears. He severs the hook-up between the Carpenter and his device, and makes short work of Dee and Dum. The Walrus is more difficult to stop, but he manages to trap him by dangling him over the side of the station's roof. During the melee the Hatter escapes, with the Walrus soon following suit…
Faces and Names Summary:
So, this is going to take some condensing. Joker escapes from Arkham and Batman seeks him like a man possessed, causing a near panic/riot among Gothamites. Gordon manages to quell the panic, but is subsequently kidnapped by the Joker. The Joker wants Gordon to give his best guess at who Batman is under the mask.
A clue arrives at Police Headquarters for the Batman, one that only Bruce Wayne could answer if he were the man under the mask. The clue prompts Batman to crime alley, and then to Gordon's prison, where he arrives in the nick of time. From the darkness Joker fires a Tommy gun, killing what turns out to be a Joker decoy and wounding Batman. Gordon then battles the Batman while Joker slinks away as Gordon is being controlled by a device of the Hatter's making. Batman frees Gordon by removing the hat, but not before Gordon suffers severe injury. As Batman leaves Gordon manages a, "This is war," with regards to the Joker. Batman then goes after Joker, makes it through his gauntlet and takes aim with Alfred's old revolver. He shoots the Joker just before the building starts to collapse, and although no one else knows for sure, the mad clown manages to get away…
Some nights later vigilante slayings begin to occur throughout Gotham with all signs pointing to Batman. Gordon, almost healed save for his mangled right arm, discovers the gun Batman had that night in the Joker's warehouse, while Bullock begins gathering other evidence. Gordon confronts Bruce Wayne about the night at Joker's now collapsed lair. Bruce confesses everything but claims his innocence, stating Batman was under the Hatter's device's spell, having to use it as an edge to bypass the Joker's gauntlet (remember the faster, stronger, etc. part of Wonderland). That, coupled with an order from Gordon that "This is war" sent Batman over the edge. Gordon suspects there is more going on than Bruce is willing to say and puts Bruce under house arrest.
Meantime Harley Quinn convinces a reformed Ivy to spring her from Arkham so she could pay her final respects to Mr. J. Once there, however, Harley tries digging Joker out of his collapsed hideaway, only to get shot through the back for her trouble by the vigilante killer. She's rushed to hospital. The same night Joker's old psychiatrist Dr. Marcus is also slain by the same killer.
Bullock confronts Gordon with the evidence. Gordon remains unconvinced as the question looms, "Why would he kill a psychologist? Harley, pushers, gang bangers, okay, that fits, but a shrink?" Bullock does some checking on Dr. Marcus and finds each quarry already questioned by a Det. MacMurtney, "But there's no MacMurtney on the force!" Bullock gives Gordon what he managed to find and Gordon finds a secret message within each clue left by MacMurtney, revealing that MacMurtney is in fact Bruce Wayne. Bruce is trying to explain his plans to his only true friend with a simple anagram for "My turn caMe." Gordon rushes to Wayne Manor and is made prisoner by the Batman.
Meanwhile, hearing of Harley's predicament incites the once reformed Ivy to escape and she immediately hunts for Gordon as a means to get to the Batman (the perceived vigilante killer in the media). She tracks him to Wayne Manor and traps both Batman and Gordon, but is then shot from behind by another, much happier, Batman. Guess who? Bruce detonates Wayne Manor with incendiary devices, burning Ivy's plant bonds and he fights the Joker/Batman, unsuccessfully. Seems Joker also got the idea to use the Hatter's device to boost his own strength, speed, tolerance to pain etc. Gordon urges Bruce to save Ivy's life as he covers them, "Promise me!" He does. Gordon holds the Joker at bay with his gun, getting the Joker to confess to everything before using his final shot to bring the weakened manor ceiling down upon them.
Joker saves Gordon and uses him as a hostage to get an explanation from Batman as to why he has such a recent fatal hatred for the clown. Batman gives the truth as he buys some time, explaining that Joker's stunt on the bridge nearly two years ago, obliterating it with the Human Bomb, took the lives of two of his trusted friends; and his stunt in the school with the Walrus (on "permanent loan" to the Joker) fatally wounded another. Then, Batman was forced to pull-the-plug on the fatally wounded friend and he fell into utter despair, prompting him to set a final suicidal plan in motion. So Bruce had his most hated enemy goaded into escape by Dr. Marcus, an accomplice of Bruce's that Joker later killed. Batman and Joker were set on a collision course of Bruce's design, one that would lead to mutual destruction. Bruce then strikes, shoving the Joker back into a wild set of vines Ivy had grown before passing out. Bruce could kill him, but doesn't. Restrained, the Joker goads Batman, telling him one of his slain "Batman Family" was expecting when she died. Enraged, Batman removes the Hatter's device from Joker's cowl and smashes it. His last link to life severed, the Joker dies and Bruce escapes into the night with Ivy.
Bruce later frees a miraculously cured Harley so she could donate blood to save Ivy. Once Ivy is safe Bruce leaves himself open for Harley's revenge, but she's unable to kill him. Instead she cleaves Bruce's cheeks, leaving a scar that resembles a hideous grin. Satisfied her need for vengeance has been sated Bruce explains that he promised to keep Ivy safe, and will take her away from Gotham to do so, and that Harley is welcome to join them. She accepts, after all, "How can I say no to such a…enchanting smile…"
That's it for the summaries, now onto chapter 2…