"Storms Coming"
Summary: How far is too far? The Joker breaks out of Arkham, leaving the usual trail of destruction and despair in his wake. Can Batman ever truly win against a creature that simply 'doesn't care'?
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers for Batman: A death in the family and The Killing Joke. The characterizations were inspired by the comics and movie, 'The Dark Knight' – A mixture of both.
As usual constructive criticism is welcomed. I'm passionate about writing and would appreciate any reviews. Enjoy the story.
It always rained in Gotham. Alfred Pennyworth liked the rain; it reminded him of his homeland of England, making him nostalgic of simpler times. Alfred smiled and leaned against the window ledge, lost in memories as he watched raindrops slowly make their way down the enormous window in Wayne Manner's grand dining hall.
The butler was very aware of what a bizarre life he led and sometimes pondered what it would be like if he'd never met the Wayne family, never got involved with men in capes, psychotic clowns and aliens from Krypton. He frowned, shaking the thought from his mind, not liking where it wandered.
Alfred had worked for the Wayne's most of his adult life and adored their son, Bruce. He was desperately loyal to the family who had accepted him into their home. When the Wayne's were brutally murdered in front of their young sons eyes Alfred had been solely responsible for bringing him up, a responsibility he had not taken lightly. The now old man had been witness to many things, including the young man's transformation into the one the media called, The Dark Knight.
Recently though, Bruce hardly spoke to his loyal butler, choosing instead to spend all his time down in the Bat cave or out on the streets. When the streets were clear for the night he'd patrol Arkham Asylum, acting it seemed, as their own personal security guard. This was what worried the Englishman the most. He understood Bruce's fears, as of late the Bat family had suffered numerous tragedies at the indisputably evil hands of the pale skinned Harlequin of Hate and constant terror of Gotham – The Joker.
He'd murdered Robin, aka Jason Todd and crippled Barbara Gordon, the late Batgirl by shooting her in the spine. Even Commissioner James Gordon had suffered, tortured almost to insanity by The Joker's sadistic games. Fortunately the Commissioner was fine, saved by Batman and the Commissioner's own desire for justice.
The madman was currently back incarcerated in Arkham, hopefully sedated and strapped into a straightjacket. Unfortunately, Alfred knew, as did Bruce and most of Gotham that The Joker would get out again; it was only a matter of time. This was the sad fact of living in a city so overrun with crime and corruption that the prisons and mental hospitals could not hold criminals for it seemed, more than a week. If it wasn't for Batman the city would surely have destroyed itself.
A voice shook Alfred from his thoughts as a hand touched his shoulder. "You okay Alfred? You look tired." Alfred turned his head to look at Bruce. He was dressed in casual attire but didn't look the least bit relaxed, his face marked with stress and sleep deprivation.
"Old bones Master Bruce, nothing more," Alfred replied, smiling warily and smoothing down his suit. He stood up to full height.
Bruce seemed to almost sense there was more to it then that. After all, Alfred was not one to be discontinued from his duties because of the simple aches and pains of old age.
"I fancied a break from polishing that stubborn silverware," Alfred said as he studied his young Masters face in the shadow of the night now streaming in through the window. Bruce looked far older than his years but it was unsurprising really; the young man had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"You should go get some rest Alfred. I can finish up here," Bruce said softly, his usually professional tone been replaced by something that held unmistakable traces of worry. It was true; everything that had happened recently had taken its toll on Alfred. He was feeling more and more tired just performing simple tasks, having to work himself harder just to get out of bed on a morning and prepare Bruce's breakfast, which as of late he had been refusing to eat.
Alfred was about to reply, saying it was best for him to keep going, until noticing that Bruce was not even listening; he was too busy staring out the window at something. Alfred followed his gaze to a bright light shining in the darkness, that beacon of hope for the people of Gotham. Bruce patted him on the shoulder and Alfred watched somewhat sadly as he stalked off toward the Bat cave. It was going to be another long night.
The rain was pouring down in harsh torrents as two figures waited by the Bat signal. The larger of the two was pacing up and down the rooftop, whilst the other slighter figure had his hands in his pockets and was stood looking out over Gotham. Both wore hats and kept having to pull their long trench coats around themselves to keep the rain out.
"We should be out there, patrolling the streets," Detective Harvey Bullock exclaimed angrily as he stalked about, his coat fluttering around him. "Why wait on the flying rat?"
Commissioner James Gordon sighed heavily and turned to look at his colleague, the light from the Bat signal still shining behind him. "Because Detective," he started, looking pointedly at Harvey. "That 'flying rat' could mean the difference between us catching that damned sonovabitch, or not."
Harvey took on a defensive posture. "You saying I can't do my job?" he fumed. He gave a crooked smile. "That we… Can't do our jobs?"
Gordon shook his head and sighed again, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "You're perfectly capable Detective, but these… These are special circumstances, you know that." Gordon knew how inept most of the Gotham Police Department were and thus, did not take many of his fellow officers of the law with him on his nightly excursions to see the 'saviour of the night'. He and Bullock were probably some of the only 'good ones' left, and although Harvey had proved in the past he had his shades of grey Gordon trusted that at heart he was a decent cop.
Bullock scowled. "Who's to say the Bat freak's gonna come? We're wasting time." As he spoke he had removed his gun from its holster.
"Evening, Detective."
Bullock's eyes widened as a figure almost as dark as the night that surrounded it emerged onto the rooftop. He nervously put his gun away, his voice hitching slightly as he spoke, "Took ya long enough."
Batman ignored Bullock as he approached Gordon. A silent message passed between the two as they exchanged knowing looks. "How long?"
Gordon glanced down at his watch. "Two hours now."
Batman's eyes narrowed under the mask. Two hours, who knew what that psycho could have done in that amount of time? He started pacing up and down. "Tonight. I'll bring him in tonight." He looked directly at Gordon. "Alone."
"No way!" Harvey yelled out, striding forward.
"You can't leave us out cold, not this time," Gordon agreed, standing by his colleague.
Batman said nothing, staying completely still for a few moments as the rain sounded around him. "Alone," he repeated, and with that he turned, ready to leave. He sensed them even before he heard the sound of gun disengaging from holster.
He turned around slowly, coming face to face with Gordon and a smirking Harvey Bullock, service weapons out and prepared to fire on any kind of movement. Gordon knew Batman too well, he was not about to let him pull a Houdini.
"Damn it Batman!" Gordon shouted against the rain. "He shot my daughter…" He quietened slightly but the bitterness still seeped into every syllable. "That bastard shot my Barbara." He lowered his gun and Harvey, although reluctant, soon followed suit. Batman bowed his head slightly at the mention of the now crippled Batgirl. "We're in this together."
There were a few moments of deathly silence before Batman spoke. "No one else can know. Not yet,"
Harvey piped up. "Hey, Bats?" He held his hands up in defence. "No offence, but don't ya think they,' he continued, gesturing towards Gotham, "deserve to know. Y'know, lock up their daughters n all that?" Gordon gave him a sidelong glare. Bullock scratched his stubble and looked at Gordon apologetically. "Eh, sorry Commish."
"He's got a point," Gordon said. "The Joker's a wild card, who knows what…" He met Batman's eyes again. "Or who, he's going to target first?"
"The Joker thrives on the fear of Gotham, the media perpetrate that. It gives him a sense of power, over them," Batman replied, looking out at the city below. "We keep it quiet, for now. Maybe this way we have a chance of bringing him in, before anyone gets hurt."
Bullock scoffed and gawped at Batman disbelievingly. "Yeah. Good luck with that."
Gordon looked deep in thought before lifting his head up to carve Batman's response to his next question. "You really think this'll work?" Gordon asked seriously.
"No," Batman replied honestly. "But I think it's worth a shot."
Gordon nodded. "What can we do?" Harvey came to stand by him.
"Find out where he's hiding out, what he's planning. I'll go to Arkham."
Harvey approached Batman and prodded him in the chest with his middle finger. "You're crazy Bats, ya know that right?" He laughed, shaking his head and backing away.
Batman ignored Harvey and pulled Gordon to the side. "Can we trust him?" He indicated toward Harvey, who was staring straight at them.
The ground thundered and five minutes later the sky was lit in a hazy silvery glow as lightening struck the air.
Gordon glanced at the disgruntled Detective before replying. "He works for me." By the time he'd turned back round Batman had gone, lightening crackling in his wake.
End of Chapter 1. More coming soon…I promise.