Serious Trouble
Barbara Gordon knows it's not a good idea to walk around Gotham City all alone after dark. But she's been left with no other choice: earlier Jim received an urgent call from the department and was asked to go to a crime scene on the other side of town. So Barbara is the one who has to fetch the children from music school. Although Jim didn't like the thought of her walking through the streets of Gotham after nightfall at all (and neither did Barbara), it was the only option because he needed their car to get to wherever the latest victim of Gotham's underworld was waiting for him and his colleagues. Barbara allayed her husband's worries by pointing out to him that she – and the children, too – didn't have to walk far and by promising him that she would take the pepper spray with her in case she ran across some bad company.
But now, she is on her way to the music school and she doesn't feel calm or safe any more, no matter what she keeps telling herself. Her footsteps on the pavement are the only audible noise, except for the sound of a few passers-by and some cars every now and then. But the additional light from the cars doesn't make Barbara feel more comfortable because the fleeting headlights create blurred shadows of the people and the street lamps on the walls and pavement which gives the whole scenery the eerie atmosphere of a horror movie. Nervously she pushes her dark hair behind her ear. This is nonsense, she tells herself, it's just my mind going haywire because it's dark and I know all those awful stories from Jim.
Barbara digs her hands deep into the pockets of her coat but she knows it's not just protection from the evening chill she's seeking that way.
Suddenly she hears running footsteps of a group of people wafting over from the side street behind her, and she inadvertently quickens up her pace, clasping her handbag with the pepper spray. She looks ahead and it strikes her that at this moment she is the only person in the street. The uncomfortable feeling in her stomach is turning into pure fear and hastily she begins to rummage around in her bag for the pepper spray because by now it is probably too late to call 911.
The footsteps grow louder and expecting the worst, Barbara hunches her shoulders up when the group catches up with her. She sees three hooded figures pass her by in the blink of an eye and then she feels someone tearing the bag from her hand and another person that is accompanied by two further figures is almost knocking her over as they run past her. She does not even make a sound during all of this and she silently wonders if this is due to her surprise or because of the terror that has overwhelmed her. At the same time she is also glad. Glad that the gangsters didn't hurt or even kill her. Then she realizes with a pang that all her stuff is in that handbag. Her purse, her cell phone, her driver's licence, the pepper spray…
Before she can come up with a plan of what to do now, though, she's distracted by something else: she sees that the crew of thugs does not go very far. They stop at a vehicle that is parked only some ten yards in front of her. When they reach it, one of the dark-clad figures knocks firmly on the driver's window with a gloved hand. Barbara sees her handbag dangling from the hands of one of the ruffians like a lifeless little animal, its light colour contrasting sharply with the dark clothes of the gang. She stands rooted to the spot, not knowing where to turn because since the men are still so close to her, they might turn their attention to her again if she moves. To her horror, at this moment the car door on the passenger's side opens and a tall, hunched figure gets out, who carelessly swings a machine gun in his right hand. When he turns around to slam the door shut, the light of a street lamp catches his face and Barbara has to clap a hand to her mouth to stop herself from letting out a gasp of shock about the uneven landscape of light and shadow the lamp draws.
She knows those fragmented features all too well from the TV news. The everlasting smile below the eyes, which are set in deep, jet-black sockets of smudged make-up, reveals a set of yellowed teeth as its owneraddresses his cronies with a strange, mocking voice, pronouncing every word very clearly.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Since you've all managed to get here, we obviously haven't lost any… parts. Good, good… Now, who of you is the lucky one that signed up for the driver's job tonight?" He stops dead when he catches sight of the woman handbag in one of the men's grip. His disturbingly empty glance wanders across the little crowd and finally finds Barbara who is still standing there, thunderstruck. He doesn't seem to hear the answer tonight's driver gives him. Instead, the Joker shifts from one side to the other and an eerie grin spreads his smile even further.
"Well, look what we've got here," he says in a low voice, taking a step towards Barbara. He snuffles as he goes.
"A pretty little lady. I take it this belongs to you."
She notices that his voice doesn't sound quite as threatening as before. He nods in the direction where the punk is still holding Barbara's handbag, and slowly moves towards her.
Barbara knows she cannot run away. They'll catch her in less than ten seconds. So she stays where she is, watching the clown with the misarranged face close in on her, his thugs silently trailing behind him. Abruptly, the Joker slings the MG over his shoulder with one hand and with the other he is fiddling in his jacket pocket. He flicks his tongue before he starts talking to her again.
"That," he wags his index finger at her, "was really bad timing, Miss. But, you see, petty theft is not one of the pastimes I pursue. Especially not tonight when we have a party on our to-do list. Obviously my fellows here don't know how to, ah, prioritize."
His voice sounds almost conversational but this doesn't calm Barbara, quite the contrary. He turns to the guy with the bag while Barbara stares blankly at the Joker, hardly noticing that the other men have circled her like a pack of hyenas. Her heart is pounding and she can now see the odd shapes which the scars crisscrossing the Joker's face form. She wonders where anyone can get such scars.
"You there," the Joker bellows at the handbag thief. "Give the lady back her things."
He waggles his head slightly and switches his glance back to Barbara again. He is now staring at her intently while she is handed back her bag under the disappointed moans of the gang members. The Joker runs his fingers through his hair as if in an effort to tidy it. How strange, Barbara thinks, could he be worried about his looks? She doesn't have time to think about that any further because the Joker starts talking again, without addressing anyone in particular.
"It's always the same when you work with new people. You cannot make sure they don't do something stupid right before the real job starts and – BAM – they get themselves landed in jail."
The last, contemptuous words he almost shouts. He continues in what probably is his friendly voice. "Fortunately, you, ah, got your stuff back, Miss, and no one got hurt. So far." He leans forward to eye her closely and Barbara instinctively flinches. Surprisingly, this seems to annoy the Joker.
"You are afraid of me," he says quietly but menacingly. "That's the problem with people in general. They are all governed by their fears. Some more, some less. But if they weren't, my job would be pretty dull. Yeah, very dull indeed… Did you know that, ah, people, any kind of people, will hurt their fellow human beings without any hesitation if their own well-being is threatened? Funny thing, the human mind…" He starts pacingaround Barbara who is thinking of the most absurd stuff right now, her mind racing from Samantha and Jimmy waiting at the music school for her, to Jim at his investigation scene, to the pepper spray in her bag and back to the man – or rather to that creature from some 1920s horror movie – walking around her and eyeing her interestedly with that maniacal gaze. He is so close that she can smell his musty purple suit which makes her want to run away even more.
Something must have betrayed her fear and disgust because suddenly the Joker seems to change his mind about not hurting anyone. Maybe it's his cronies who are getting visibly bored by his speech. After all, they did not come here tonight to do someone in. The Joker grabs Barbara by the shoulder and turns her around to face him. His grip is so tight that she can feel his every finger. But what is even worse: to her horror she sees the shining blade of a butterfly knife in his other hand. This must be what he was searching for in his pocket earlier.
"To, ah, cut to the chase now," he says, his eyes gleaming. "I think I will rid you of your fears once and for all. Becau-ause. Once you don't depend on your looks any more, you will be able to see people in a whole new light."
He pauses and slightly smacks his lips again.
"You will understand what ugly really means. And it's not about looks. You will be free from this whole… hypocritical… superficial society."
He lifts the knife and brings it to Barbara's face. She finally lets out a desperate cry for help and her voice reverberating in the street sounds strange to her own ears.
The Joker clutches her face with his free hand and makes a shushing sound.
"Shhh! It's not that hard, you know. You will barely feel it. I know what I'm talking about. When I got these scars, I, ah, was less fortunate than you. The blade was all rusty and infected the wounds. Guess my uncle shouldn't have kept it in the cellar for so long."
He quickly licks his lips and continues, "I had a very good look at that knife because I spent a lot of time in that cellar, too. Locked in. For misbehaving. My aunt and uncle didn't like children who laughed a lot. And in the company of adults. Children should be quiet, my auntie said. Auntie deares-t. Children should not laugh, she said, maybe smile once in a while and only when asked to. You know, I remember that evening veeery well. Cold. Dark."
"Um, excuse me, boss," one of his henchmen interjects. "We're running rather late by now. And I think I heard a noise somewhere around here. We should really get a move on before someone calls the cops."
The Joker snarls disapprovingly and looks at Barbara whose head is still captured between his gloved fingers.
At that moment all hell breaks loose for the second time tonight for Barbara. Someone is launching an attack on the gangsters and they have the surprise effect on their side. The Joker lets out an angry sound of frustration before he releases Barbara's face to reach for his machine gun while his gang has a hard time fighting back the attackers.
As soon as she's free, Barbara immediately ducks down and runs. In passing, she sends a kick at one of the rowdies who's in her way. She doesn't look back but she hears the fighting and screaming and also gunfire and then the motor of a car. Probably the van the Joker came in. When she hears the car approach, she steps into the shadow of the nearest doorway and waits motionless until the car has passed and the sound has ceased. She takes a deep breath and clutches a hand at her pounding forehead while she's trying to figure out what just happened. Although it all happened very fast she reckons that she saw at least two of her helpers wearing outfits like the Batman. But if there was more than one dressed as Batman, it must have been a group of those impostors who have been roaming Gotham's streets lately, trying to imitate the real Batman and getting the scum off the street.
She's really glad she wasn't already on the way back from the music school with the children because she doesn't dare to think what could have happened to them. Gosh, the children! With her hands still shaking, she fumbles for her cell phone to call the music school and tell the teacher that she's going to fetch Samantha and Jimmy shortly. And after that she will order a taxi to pick her up here, right at the doorway, to avoid any more encounters with whatever sort of criminals. She will fetch her children and they will go home together in a taxi. In the state of shock she's in she doesn't even think of calling the police. In hear ear, the dial tone finally starts to ring.
On the ride home she is still struggling with the memories of the Joker. She already knows that his face and his voice will keep haunting her for a long time. But what is really stirring her up is the question why he turned his attention to her at all. Was he just looking for easy prey or did he have a different interest in her? She never finds an answer to that.
However, first of all she has to tell Jim. She scares the hell out of him later that same evening when she tells him what happened to her. Little does she know that Jim himself returns home so late tonight because after visiting the first crime scene, he had to go to Bruce Wayne's penthouse straightaway since a fundraising party there had been disturbed by the infamous Joker and a group of his henchmen.