Heroes and Villains
The Batsignal shone brightly in the dark, cloudy sky, as Comissioner Gordon stood by it, smoking a cigar and watching the shadows move across the clouds. Light blending into darkness so quickly that he almost couldn't distinguish which was which. A black bat silhoutted against blinding white light. A Dark Knight fighting for goodness, order, and right…
"Jim," said a voice. Gordon turned to see Batman landing on the roof, nodding at him.
"We've got a problem," sighed Gordon. "Scarecrow's targeting Gotham's water supply. He's threatening to contaminate it with fear gas unless we give him two million dollars in cash tonight. But the good news is we've discovered his location. One of my guys saw him entering an abandoned warehouse on the East Side of the docks. The mayor's ordered me to organize a raid, but if you'd be willing to handle this for us…"
Batman nodded. "Say no more, Jim," he said. "The Scarecrow will be back in Arkham tonight."
Gordon smiled. "I knew I could count on you," he sighed. "I dunno what this city would ever do without you, Batman. You're Gotham's greatest hero."
"I'm no hero," replied Batman. "Just a man trying to do what he believes to be right in an evil world."
He leapt off the rooftop and flew off into the night. Gordon smiled after him. "Good luck, Batman," he murmured. "The hopes of all decent people are going with you."
…
Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as the Scarecrow, sat alone in the warehouse, jumping at every sound and shadow. The drip of the water made him start, a cloud passing across the moon made fear beat like a drum in his chest. Crane was meant to be the Master of Fear – this was the persona that had been established for him through years of terror. But in reality, he was utterly terrified, even more so when a deep voice said from out of the shadows, "You were seen."
Crane's heart seized up as he recognized that voice, and looked up in horror to see the tall, dark, caped figure of the Batman. "W…what?" Crane stammered, aghast.
"You were seen," repeated Batman, coldly. "Cop saw you coming in here. Gordon was tipped off. He was meant to organize a raid, but fortunately he called me in instead. What do you have to say for yourself, Crane?"
"I…I'm sorry," stammered Crane. "I didn't mean to be seen…I was very careful…"
"Not careful enough!" shouted Batman, furiously. "Jesus Christ, Crane, what kinda game do you think this is?! You think I got time for mistakes?! You think I'm just gonna forgive people who fail me?! Do you?!"
"N…no, sir," gasped Crane. "But I didn't…"
Batman seized him by the collar and lifted him off his feet. "Listen to me, you snivelling little worm!" he hissed. "The only reason you and all your little friends are free and running around is because I want you to be! The only reason you do what you do is because I tell you to! And the only reason you're still alive is because I allow you to remain that way! And what do you think will happen if people find out that Batman is the one who's letting you out, and letting you roam free, and telling you to commit crimes and extort money?! What do you think will happen when they realize that I'm the mastermind behind this ridiculous game of theatrical crimes and insane personas?! Tell me!"
"I think…you would not be considered a hero," gasped Crane.
"No, it would be a lot worse than that," growled Batman. "I would be arrested. Locked up in that dump Arkham or some goddamn prison somewhere, like the rest of your freaks! But I'm not like the rest of you, do you understand me?! I am the master, and you all are my willing slaves, at my beck and call, catering to my every whim! When I say rob a bank and bring me the loot, you rob a bank! When I say attack an orphanage so I can have good publicity for stopping you, you do that! And when I say extort two million dollars from this city, what do you do?!"
"Extort…two million dollars," stammered Crane.
"Wrong," hissed Batman. "That's what you're supposed to do. But that's not what you did, is it, Crane? And you know what happens to failures, don't you?"
"No," gasped Crane. "No, no, please, Batman, don't send me back to Arkham again! The doctors there…the torture they inflict…it's unbearable!"
"Oh, I will send you back to Arkham, Crane," hissed Batman, dropping him to the ground. "But not yet. First I gotta punish you for failing me. Y'know I was taught martial arts by the best. I know how to break a bone in ten places. Let's start with your spine, shall we?" he muttered, raising his fist.
The docks were deserted, so nobody could hear the agonized screaming coming from the warehouse. About an hour later, Batman emerged, dragging a battered, bleeding, and barely conscious Scarecrow into the Batmobile.
"Professor Crane is back," said Batman as he kicked open the door to Arkham. "And I think he needs more electrotherapy."
Dr. Ezekial Arkham turned and smiled at Batman. "Yes, I think you're right, Batman," he murmured, gesturing for the orderlies to take Crane away. Crane screamed and struggled as he was dragged away, but the doors to the cell block shut and locked behind him.
"Good therapy is so expensive these days," sighed Dr. Arkham, holding out his hand and smiling.
Batman reached into his utility belt and slipped him a small wad of cash. "I'll bust him out when I feel like it," he muttered. "Enjoy the therapy."
"I always do!" said Dr. Arkham, grinning.
Batman strode from the asylum back into the Batmobile. He drove angrily, as his mind whirled with furious thoughts. It was stupid of Crane to have been caught, but the man was an idiot. All lunatics were – that's why Batman had chosen them to be his minions. They were stupid enough to shut up and do as they were told, but smart enough to cower in fear of him. And crazy enough that no one would believe them if they told anyone that Batman was running his own criminal racket from within Gotham City, using threats, blackmail, and bribery to force the lunatics to execute elaborate plots and schemes, which Batman masterminded, of course. The aim of these was simple – good publicity. As long as costumed freaks threatened Gotham, Batman would always be its hero, rather than just some bullying vigilante. And, he had to admit it, it was a lot of fun too. Batman was a man who had grown up with every available pleasure at his fingertips, but the only thing that really made him happy was violence. Plotting crimes and getting others to take the fall for them, and then getting to beat them up afterwards was like a dream come true, and it was a stroke of genius that he had thought of it.
But it wasn't all fun and games – money was a big reason too. The Wayne family fortune had been quickly squandered through Batman's youthful excesses, and he had no interest in working for his cash. That was long and hard and boring. Crime and extortion were much more fun and interesting, except when his minions failed him, like Crane tonight. He needed another villain to try a similar game. A good one. One who didn't fail…Joker.
Batman's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the Joker, but at least he didn't fail. Joker was skilled, talented, and always put up a good fight. So good, in fact, that Batman sometimes suspected that Joker really meant to kill him. It was no secret that they loathed each other – that made their fights much more realistic, so Batman didn't mind. He did mind, however, when Joker proved insolent, which was all the time. He was a real troublemaker, not as easily cowed as the others. And Batman had been meaning to teach him a lesson for a long time.
Well, he'd do it right after Joker did this job for him, he thought resolutely. It was long overdue. Batman's other rogues feared and respected him. Joker did neither. Joker was constantly defiant, and heedless of his personal safety. He could only be cowed when Batman threatened violence to his wife, a dumb little broad called Harley Quinn. Dumb but, Batman had to admit it, pretty hot. Batman had promised himself that he'd have her someday, someday when Joker wasn't around to protect her. It would be a simple matter of intimidation, threats, and violence. It was how he got everything he wanted.
The Batmobile pulled up in the Batcave, and Batman climbed out. He looked around at the empty cave and headed for the stairs with a growl of annoyance. The butler who had been with the Wayne family for two generations, some old geezer called Alfred, had been fired by Bruce years ago – he had never liked him anyway. And Bruce preferred his servants to be more pleasing to the eyes.
"Selina!" he shouted at the top of the stairs. "Where the hell are you?! I expected you to be waiting with a drink!"
"Get it yourself, you bastard!" shouted a voice from the living room. Batman flicked on the lights to see Selina Kyle seated on the sofa, clutching a bottle of vodka in one hand, tears and mascara streaming down her cheeks.
"What…did…you…say?" hissed Batman.
"I said get it yourself!" she snapped, glaring at him. "I'm not your goddamn slave, Bruce, and I won't be treated like this anymore…"
Batman struck her a harsh blow across the face. "Don't talk back to me, you little whore!" he hissed. "And don't you ever…EVER insult me again! You owe everything to me! Without me, you'd still be some petty criminal stealing cash to keep you off the streets! Who gives you all your goddamn jewelry and diamonds, you ungrateful slut?! I should call the police right now and tell 'em I've apprehended Catwoman! You think they wouldn't arrest you?!"
"I think jail would be preferable to staying here with you any longer," hissed Selina, furiously.
"It wouldn't be jail, you dumb bitch," snapped Batman. "It would be Arkham."
Selina's eyes widened. "No…no, please, Bruce, I didn't mean…"
"Y'see, you gotta be crazy to have these cat delusions, don't you, Selina?" interrupted Batman, softly. "Yes, your fixation on cats, your cat persona…I believe Dr. Arkham would be very interested in trying to pick your brain."
"No, no, Bruce, I'm sorry," gasped Selina. "Here…here, I'll get your drink…"
She staggered to her feet, pouring a glass of scotch and holding it out to him. Batman smashed it on the ground, seizing her by the hair. "You are on very thin ice, Selina," he hissed. "One more outburst like that, and I'll have you bundled off to Arkham in a straightjacket like the rest of the freaks. Don't think you're special to me in any way. I got an army of women who wanna be the Batman's mistress. Poison Ivy was dropping hints just the other day. So shape up or you're out. You understand?!"
"Yes, Bruce," she gasped.
"Now kiss me," he muttered.
She obeyed, ripping off his mask and sliding her hand down to his belt. He shoved her away. "I got business right now," he muttered. "Go to bed and I'll be in soon."
Selina raced off. Batman strode over to the telephone and dialled a number.
…
The loud ringing woke Harley Quinn from a very sound sleep. She rolled over, out of the Joker's arms, to pick up the phone. He grunted slightly in sleep, shifting closer to her and embracing her again. Harley smiled as she said, "Hello?"
"Harley, baby, it's the B-man," murmured a familiar voice. "What are you wearing?"
"Oh…hi," stammered Harley, the smile falling from her face and being replaced with a look of fear and disgust. "You wanna talk to…Mr. J?"
"No, I wanna talk to you, sweetheart," murmured Batman. "I asked you what you're wearing."
"Uh…nightgown," she said, slowly.
"Be more specific," said Batman. "How short is it, and how much can you see through it?"
"Harley? Who is it?" muttered Joker.
"It's…uh…him, Mr. J," whispered Harley, putting her hand over the receiver. "He wants me to…tell him what I'm wearing."
Joker's eyes narrowed and he grabbed the phone from her. "She's wearing something only I'm allowed see," he growled. "What the hell do you want at this time of night?"
"No need to be rude, J, not when I'm about to offer you a job," retorted Batman.
"I'm not interested," said Joker, firmly.
"You will be," said Batman. "When I tell you how much is in it for…"
"I don't want your money," interrupted Joker.
"But you do want your wife to be kept safe, huh?" asked Batman, quietly. "Gotham's a dangerous city, you know, J. A lot can happen to a pretty young thing like Harley in a hellhole like this. So just how precious is she to you?"
Joker was silent. "What's the job, and where do I need to be?" he muttered.
"You need to be at the Funnibone Shipping Warehouse tomorrow night at ten," said Batman. "I'll explain everything there. Crane was meant to do it, but he failed me. I hope you don't as well, for Harley's sake."
The phone went dead and Joker looked at it, hanging it back up slowly. "What did he want, Mr. J?" asked Harley, gazing at him with wide, blue eyes full of worry.
"He wants me for a job tomorrow night," muttered Joker.
"You ain't gonna do it, are you?" asked Harley.
"I don't have a choice," he retorted. "You know how he owns this city. If I refused, something bad would happen. He'd make it happen."
He took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "I couldn't bear to lose you, Harley," he whispered.
"Mr. J, let's go away," she whispered, tears trailing down her cheeks as she hugged him in return. "Let's leave Gotham, go somewhere else, somewhere far away from the Bat, where he can't find us…"
"He's the World's Greatest Detective, Harley," interrupted Joker. "He'll find us wherever we go. He wouldn't let us escape with all we know about him."
"But who would believe us?" pressed Harley. "I mean, we're crazy. Look at us. We're crazy, nobody would listen to us, nobody would care about two psychopaths like us. Nobody would…listen…"
She burst into tears and he shushed her. "You're right, Harley," he murmured. "Nobody would listen to us. Who would believe that we're not the bad guys, after all this time? Who would believe that it's all an elaborate set-up by a deranged and brilliant mind? Nobody. They'd think it was a joke, Harl. Just like everything we'd have to say."
Harley continued to sob, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. "One great, big, horrible joke," he whispered, looking out at the night sky, where the Batsignal still shone brightly against the clouds.