Chapter 1: Predicted Events I
The Bat-signal loomed high in the sky that night. Below it, jagged skyscrapers are silhouetted by eerie moonlight as they reach upwards from the glowing abyss that is Gotham City. Each building seems to dwarf its neighbour until they culminate in the heart of the city to a single spectacular structure that is the Wayne Foundation building. At the very peak among the clouds and angels sits a fearsomely dressed black cloaked figure, its arms folded, waiting. The added light of the signal seems to startle this creature of the night and it rises to its feet. Once more the Batman is revealed in the moonlight, and once more he jumps into the waiting void with his billowing cape stretching upwards as he falls, trying to reach heaven.
…
"Well, sir, you pulled a nice trick on our Dr. Fairly yesterday," the plump little white-coat wearing psychiatrist remarks. It's his first session with the Joker and he can't help notice how, even though completely incapacitated and displaying a cool and collected demeanour, the Joker still exudes an aura of danger and raw power. 'Even his reputation can't prepare you,' the doctor thinks. 'This green haired, ruby red-lipped, chalk white skinned clown is by far the most frightening and powerful lunatic I've ever interviewed.'
"Why thank you. It's always nice to be noticed," the Joker responds to the doctor's greeting.
'Did he just read my mind?' the doctor wonders. He blinks strongly and continues, "You certainly have an aversion to therapy. Before the mandatory strait jacket you had killed two of your previous therapists. Even with the jacket you have driven two insane, one to murder, one to suicide and repulsed the rest. Well, maybe thirteenth time is lucky. I'm Dr. Marcus," the rotund little man says with a half-hearted smile. His glasses were so thick that, at a certain angle, Joker could see himself within their reflection. Joker liked that.
"Charmed," the Joker says slyly.
"Let's begin. What's your name?" the round little man asks, still smiling.
"Joker."
"Joker is a playing card. A cheap little piece of paper. No matter how garish you look, you, sir, are a man. So I'll ask again, what is your name?" the little man says, still smiling, but in a more relaxed manner now as he thinks, 'Got him!'
Joker furrows his brow at this point and actually does the closest thing to a frown he is capable of. 'This little man,' he thinks, 'who looks like a roly-poly fatso-the-clown certainly is pushy. Still, there's no sense in killing him. The glasses. Besides, I've often wondered about me, the name I call myself.' "I don't know," he replies contorting his face into a perplexed image, "it's all a muddled blur."
"Now that is a shame. Look, everyone has a name that their parents gave them. It's what keeps us rooted in reality. It's my belief that if you wish to be cured of a mental ailment, the best way to start would be to find the patient's true given name. At least with that foothold to reality you could try to pull the patient to sanity. Are you sure you do not remember your true name?"
"Yes," 'this is getting boring. Maybe I'll kill you anyway,' Joker ponders.
"Are you sure? Everyone else has one. Two-Face is Harvey Dent, and he's always willing to try something, twice. Heh. Sorry, bedside humour. Jonathan Crane is Scarecrow. Poison Ivy is Pamela Isley. Even Harley Quinn is Harleen Quinzel. Wouldn't you like to share your name too? Don't you want to be cured?"
"Now why would I want to be associated with those losers?" Joker responds, annoyed. 'And bringing up Harley, when you know how I loathe her! Yeesh. I should kill you just for that,' he thinks.
"Even you and your fellows' arch-nemesis, this phantasm of the night you all seem to share. Bat-Man? I do believe that is the name. This Bat-Man also must have a true name. Something that roots him to reality long enough to combat you, your cell mates and the underworld. Something must anchor him, otherwise madness would completely engulf him and he would be in here with me interviewing him instead. Wouldn't you like to be on an even level with this creature?"
"Intriguing," 'but Batman was never anywhere near MY level,' Joker thinks. 'Still, four-eyes has a point. I've often wondered who Batsy truly is. Not that it matters to me personally, but imagine the fun that could be had with him during the day! Our game could continue 24-7! I could look him up, see his pad, and spin some records while shacking up with Mrs. Bats. I could take the car out for a joyride. I could mark my territory in his pool. Take Bats Jr. out for a one-way walk to the fireworks factory. I so do love fireworks. After all, since the bridge Batsy's gotten dull and boring, like he's in a rut or something. This could spice things up, and when it's all done I'll look in Batsy's eyes and make him smile…'
"Excuse me sir," the round little man says, "but what is your answer?"
"I'll tell you, doc," Joker begins, "you're a genius! I can't help but want to free myself from this madness thanks to your startling and pushy questions! Why, my name," the Joker pauses and ensures his eyes are fixed firmly on the good Dr. Marcus' eyes. "Why my name is coming to me," and with this the Joker begins to whisper rhythmetically, "It is...it is...it is...Joe...yes, Joe...Joe...yes, Joe...Joe...yes, Joe...Karsey... no, no...Kersey...no, no...Kerry...no, no...Kerr...ho, ho! My name is Joe Kerr and in a trance you go."
Dr. Marcus wasn't laughing. In fact he wasn't moving. He sat in his chair, spellbound, eyes unblinking and staring into the Joker's fiery pupils. The Joker almost casually removes his straitjacket. "I've always loved Houdini," he smirks as the jacket hits the floor. Glaring at the security camera the Joker removes the doctor's clothes and puts them on. He then puts the doctor into his asylum issued smock and pants as best he could. A few moments later, while staring into the security camera, the disguised Joker proclaims "Dr. Marcus is leaving now," a message eagerly conveyed by the camera operator to his supervisor. The supervisor agrees and electronically unlocks the interview room door and the Joker calmly takes a walk out of the asylum. Upon reaching the outside world he laughs his loud and unmistakingly vicious laugh as nearby two asylum security guards respond in level, monotone voices, "Dr. Marcus...is...leaving...now..."
…
Commissioner Gordon will never tire of the site. 'Gotham City can be beautiful at night,' he muses as he empties his pipe upon the roof of police headquarters, 'but in this world beauty is often used to hide something dark and ugly, and no city is uglier inside than Gotham. It does things to men.' The Commissioner pauses as he feels the air change about him and when the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up he knew. "Hello old friend," he says casually.
From the darkness emerges the Batman, unanswering.
'It wasn't always like this,' the Commissioner ponders. 'Before the bridge I never got the drop on him. He's the same man, that's for certain, but something's changed. Whatever it is, I hope what's next doesn't eat him alive.' "It's Joker," the Commissioner says in a low authoritarian voice, "he's escaped from Arkham. Once the Joker's daily therapy session was over the two orderlies guarding the door walked in and found Dr. Marcus wearing the clown's clothes. Marcus was just sitting there and staring at nothing. Dr. Arkham recognized it as a hypnotic trance, something he's familiar with and uses on the inmates. Not one orderly or guard remembers Joker leaving the Asylum. He probably hypnotized half the asylum just to get out! Incredible."
The Batman simply stands still and silent.
"Funny thing is there wasn't a single casualty. Not one person harmed in his escape. He's killed hundreds without a thought, and now, with a perfect opening for chaos he just walks away. This can't be good." The Commissioner pauses and shakes his head in disbelief.
The Batman stays silent and unmoving.
"Dr. Arkham is trying to deprogram the ENTIRE asylum, but it's a very risky job. For all we know Joker has commands set up in his victims that could be triggered by our tampering. It's too much for the asylum's limited resources. He's actually opened up to outside offers for help. I've had to commit a force to patrol the place and try to keep the peace. At least the inmates are behaving, for now anyways..."
The Batman stands unwavering.
"Look, damn it, you know I don't need your help! You know what I think about you and your damned crusade! I didn't call you here to sic' you on the clown! He's a psycho and we'll handle him!"
For the first time Batman smiles.
Gordon smirks in response. They both know the city would be lost without the Batman. "I thought that'd get you. What he's done in the asylum suggests he's got a single-minded mission, not random chaos, in mind. I think he'll be coming for you, my friend, to finish what he started," Gordon takes a puff on his freshly lit pipe and lets his words sink in. Yes, something has definitely changed. "You've always walked very close to the edge, my friend, and you know it takes not only great physical skill but sharp intellect not to fall in. I'm afraid that after the bridge you've lost something inside. You know I'm surprised you still put on that suit at night." Gordon takes another puff and looks warily at the Batman. The Batman moves to the edge of the building and stands on the ledge, ready to jump into the night. A hollow voice whispers "You shouldn't worry about me," and he's gone.
'No,' Gordon thinks, 'you've already fallen in. Damn, it's only a matter of time now. Maybe the APB has turned something up.' As Gordon leaves he turns off the Bat-signal and realizes just how much more sinister the sky above, and city below, look without it.
…
"Where is he?"
All about the Batman are broken bodies that just a few moments ago were laughing and joking members of Gotham's underworld enjoying drinks at SnooZ's bar. Only one man is left standing, pinned between the wall and the Batman. His hands broken and pain etched in his face the bartender can barely manage a glance upwards at the Batman without wincing in agony.
"Don't make me ask again."
The bartender can feel beads of sweat pour down his grey moustache as he wonders what to do. 'Everyone else said they didn't know and look at them now,' he thinks, 'they're barely breathing. But if I send him off on a goose chase he could hunt me down. He could do worse!' "I...I don't know. Please don't hurt me anymore." Merciful blackness follows.
…
The barkeep awakens much later to the sounds of many men talking among flashing lights outside his bar. Above him two ambulance workers loom, having attended to his two broken arms they now are discussing who next to work on. "This is the third tonight," one attendant says in a disbelieving voice, "Damn, how can one guy do all this?" The other attendant looks at his partner and is about to say something but the dispatcher's voice comes crackling over their comm. units, "All available personnel to The Gilded Edge, site of major disturbance." Both attendants can only give a shake of their heads before moving on to the next patient.
'He ain't human,' the barkeep thinks. 'How can anyone squeeze four gin joints in one night? How can anyone do all this and just move on and do it again?' The barkeep looks at the casts covering his arms and wonders, 'What if he comes back?'
Nearby he can hear two voices talking. "Commish," says one, "this is insane. We all knew cape-boy was wacky, but never like this. I mean, if it were up to me I'd have just taken a baseball bat to each of these joints ages ago and hit home runs with each of these rats' heads, but that just ain't what being cops, or even law abiding citizens, is about. We've got reports of roving gangs of thugs tryin' to hunt him down, spooking the honest folks. It's like World War III out here and if we're gonna keep the peace, like our job description says, then we've gotta take him in. It's the only way."
"I know the situation," the Commissioner barks, "You don't have to repeat it to me at each call!" The Commissioner pauses for a moment and murmurs "Sorry."
"It's okay. Just tell me to do my job and bring him in."
"I know there's no love lost between you and him Harvey, but we can't have the police join in with these roving mobs. No," the Commissioner looks up at the stars for a second and lights another pipe. 'There are so few stars visible from Gotham's streets, and the sky looks so black, so dark,' he thinks. "We've got to shut the bars down."
Detective Harvey Bullock looks at the Commissioner with a scowl, "Gotham's going to hell and you're just gonna ignore the cause."
"In case you haven't noticed Gotham is already in hell, and it's up to us, ALL of us, to redeem her! Now get some teams together and shut the bars down. While you're doing that I'll try to disperse the crowds. Get to it!" 'Maybe this way,' Gordon thinks, 'you'll actually be forced into some detective work my dark friend. If you are going to survive the Joker this round you've got to start thinking.'
'My God,' the barkeep thinks, 'even the police are powerless against him.'
"Hey you!" a police officer can be seen yelling across several stretchers in the direction of the barkeep. He walks towards the barkeep and shines a very phoney smile, "Could you provide a statement as to what happened? None of these other fellas are willing or able to give me something to sort the mess out, you know, officially. Actually you're the first fully awake guy I've come across. So how about it? What'd you see?"
"Nothing officer...I saw nothing at all..."
…
At McMichael's Bar the party is going loud and strong. Lights, music, dancing and beer keep the crowd in a joyous mood. They don't know what's happening in the outside world, nor do they care. In fact, none notice the figure looming over them in the skylight above. Standing and staring down is the Batman, choosing his main targets, the ones he'll keep conscious long enough to answer his question.
Suddenly the outside air is filled with flashing lights and the piercing screech of police sirens. They pull up to McMichael's and empty out. Led by the rotund Det. Harvey Bullock they flock into the bar. The crowd initially doesn't notice the cops and continues dancing until the sound is shut off. "Alright!" yells Bullock, "This place's booze licence expired! Get out!" The crowd continues to stand, confused. "NOW! Or you're all busted!" With that the crowd heads out.
"You're shafting us!" the barkeep yells, "My licence ain't expired!"
"Really now?" replies Bullock "Then we've made a horrible mistake. Tell ya what, we'll take down your liquor licence number and have some folks look it over for us at headquarters. If it's legit you get it back in a week and can continue your respectful business with your 'ahem' respectful patrons. But yank my chain around and I'll rip up this hole and find something, you just know I WILL find something, to shove you in another dark hole at the station with the Tattooed Man and his boyfriend Slit-Face. So...shut...up." The look of red scowled hatred on the detective's face told the barkeep to accept his generous offer.
The Batman sees all this from above and realizes that a similar scene is being played out in most of the dives he was going to visit. 'Well then, time to HIT the streets.'
…
It's nearly 5 am when the Commissioner pulls his police issued car up to the driveway of his 3 storey town home. 'What a night,' he thinks as he exits and looks up towards home and the police officer on guard in the front. For a moment he thinks how good it would feel to open the door and see his teary eyed daughter Barbara light up with relief and joy upon seeing her father arrive after a chaos filled night. No doubt she'd also be worried about the Batman, but it could be understood. After all, she ran around with him in cape and cowl, helping him to fight the good fight. That is, until the Joker. The house is empty now, a cold and barren place…
The Commissioner shakes his head, trying to remove the unpleasant memory from his mind as he makes his way up the stairs to the brownstone and fumbles for his house keys. He half-heartedly mumbles a greeting to the guard as he approaches. 'They keep rotating the men on duty,' he thinks, 'it's impossible to keep track of names.' However, this officer had a very familiar twinkle to his eye when he replied, and when the Commissioner reaches the top of the steps he notices the apparently friendly smile is actually large and malicious. 'Oh God, the Joker!'
Before the Commissioner can act he feels a sharp sting within his chest which suddenly becomes a dead numbness. Struggling for strength he manages to look at the large hypodermic needle protruding and then feels himself slip away as he desperately tries to grab onto the Joker. He briefly recalls what Batman said last night "You shouldn't worry about me." He was right.
Soon, all is black.
"Ever get a feeling of déjà vu?" the Joker remarks as he drags the Commissioner's still body down the steps to the idle car…
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
The Bat-signal loomed high in the sky that night. Below it, jagged skyscrapers are silhouetted by eerie moonlight as they reach upwards from the glowing abyss that is Gotham City. Each building seems to dwarf its neighbour until they culminate in the heart of the city to a single spectacular structure that is the Wayne Foundation building. At the very peak among the clouds and angels sits a fearsomely dressed black cloaked figure, its arms folded, waiting. The added light of the signal seems to startle this creature of the night and it rises to its feet. Once more the Batman is revealed in the moonlight, and once more he jumps into the waiting void with his billowing cape stretching upwards as he falls, trying to reach heaven.
…
"Well, sir, you pulled a nice trick on our Dr. Fairly yesterday," the plump little white-coat wearing psychiatrist remarks. It's his first session with the Joker and he can't help notice how, even though completely incapacitated and displaying a cool and collected demeanour, the Joker still exudes an aura of danger and raw power. 'Even his reputation can't prepare you,' the doctor thinks. 'This green haired, ruby red-lipped, chalk white skinned clown is by far the most frightening and powerful lunatic I've ever interviewed.'
"Why thank you. It's always nice to be noticed," the Joker responds to the doctor's greeting.
'Did he just read my mind?' the doctor wonders. He blinks strongly and continues, "You certainly have an aversion to therapy. Before the mandatory strait jacket you had killed two of your previous therapists. Even with the jacket you have driven two insane, one to murder, one to suicide and repulsed the rest. Well, maybe thirteenth time is lucky. I'm Dr. Marcus," the rotund little man says with a half-hearted smile. His glasses were so thick that, at a certain angle, Joker could see himself within their reflection. Joker liked that.
"Charmed," the Joker says slyly.
"Let's begin. What's your name?" the round little man asks, still smiling.
"Joker."
"Joker is a playing card. A cheap little piece of paper. No matter how garish you look, you, sir, are a man. So I'll ask again, what is your name?" the little man says, still smiling, but in a more relaxed manner now as he thinks, 'Got him!'
Joker furrows his brow at this point and actually does the closest thing to a frown he is capable of. 'This little man,' he thinks, 'who looks like a roly-poly fatso-the-clown certainly is pushy. Still, there's no sense in killing him. The glasses. Besides, I've often wondered about me, the name I call myself.' "I don't know," he replies contorting his face into a perplexed image, "it's all a muddled blur."
"Now that is a shame. Look, everyone has a name that their parents gave them. It's what keeps us rooted in reality. It's my belief that if you wish to be cured of a mental ailment, the best way to start would be to find the patient's true given name. At least with that foothold to reality you could try to pull the patient to sanity. Are you sure you do not remember your true name?"
"Yes," 'this is getting boring. Maybe I'll kill you anyway,' Joker ponders.
"Are you sure? Everyone else has one. Two-Face is Harvey Dent, and he's always willing to try something, twice. Heh. Sorry, bedside humour. Jonathan Crane is Scarecrow. Poison Ivy is Pamela Isley. Even Harley Quinn is Harleen Quinzel. Wouldn't you like to share your name too? Don't you want to be cured?"
"Now why would I want to be associated with those losers?" Joker responds, annoyed. 'And bringing up Harley, when you know how I loathe her! Yeesh. I should kill you just for that,' he thinks.
"Even you and your fellows' arch-nemesis, this phantasm of the night you all seem to share. Bat-Man? I do believe that is the name. This Bat-Man also must have a true name. Something that roots him to reality long enough to combat you, your cell mates and the underworld. Something must anchor him, otherwise madness would completely engulf him and he would be in here with me interviewing him instead. Wouldn't you like to be on an even level with this creature?"
"Intriguing," 'but Batman was never anywhere near MY level,' Joker thinks. 'Still, four-eyes has a point. I've often wondered who Batsy truly is. Not that it matters to me personally, but imagine the fun that could be had with him during the day! Our game could continue 24-7! I could look him up, see his pad, and spin some records while shacking up with Mrs. Bats. I could take the car out for a joyride. I could mark my territory in his pool. Take Bats Jr. out for a one-way walk to the fireworks factory. I so do love fireworks. After all, since the bridge Batsy's gotten dull and boring, like he's in a rut or something. This could spice things up, and when it's all done I'll look in Batsy's eyes and make him smile…'
"Excuse me sir," the round little man says, "but what is your answer?"
"I'll tell you, doc," Joker begins, "you're a genius! I can't help but want to free myself from this madness thanks to your startling and pushy questions! Why, my name," the Joker pauses and ensures his eyes are fixed firmly on the good Dr. Marcus' eyes. "Why my name is coming to me," and with this the Joker begins to whisper rhythmetically, "It is...it is...it is...Joe...yes, Joe...Joe...yes, Joe...Joe...yes, Joe...Karsey... no, no...Kersey...no, no...Kerry...no, no...Kerr...ho, ho! My name is Joe Kerr and in a trance you go."
Dr. Marcus wasn't laughing. In fact he wasn't moving. He sat in his chair, spellbound, eyes unblinking and staring into the Joker's fiery pupils. The Joker almost casually removes his straitjacket. "I've always loved Houdini," he smirks as the jacket hits the floor. Glaring at the security camera the Joker removes the doctor's clothes and puts them on. He then puts the doctor into his asylum issued smock and pants as best he could. A few moments later, while staring into the security camera, the disguised Joker proclaims "Dr. Marcus is leaving now," a message eagerly conveyed by the camera operator to his supervisor. The supervisor agrees and electronically unlocks the interview room door and the Joker calmly takes a walk out of the asylum. Upon reaching the outside world he laughs his loud and unmistakingly vicious laugh as nearby two asylum security guards respond in level, monotone voices, "Dr. Marcus...is...leaving...now..."
…
Commissioner Gordon will never tire of the site. 'Gotham City can be beautiful at night,' he muses as he empties his pipe upon the roof of police headquarters, 'but in this world beauty is often used to hide something dark and ugly, and no city is uglier inside than Gotham. It does things to men.' The Commissioner pauses as he feels the air change about him and when the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up he knew. "Hello old friend," he says casually.
From the darkness emerges the Batman, unanswering.
'It wasn't always like this,' the Commissioner ponders. 'Before the bridge I never got the drop on him. He's the same man, that's for certain, but something's changed. Whatever it is, I hope what's next doesn't eat him alive.' "It's Joker," the Commissioner says in a low authoritarian voice, "he's escaped from Arkham. Once the Joker's daily therapy session was over the two orderlies guarding the door walked in and found Dr. Marcus wearing the clown's clothes. Marcus was just sitting there and staring at nothing. Dr. Arkham recognized it as a hypnotic trance, something he's familiar with and uses on the inmates. Not one orderly or guard remembers Joker leaving the Asylum. He probably hypnotized half the asylum just to get out! Incredible."
The Batman simply stands still and silent.
"Funny thing is there wasn't a single casualty. Not one person harmed in his escape. He's killed hundreds without a thought, and now, with a perfect opening for chaos he just walks away. This can't be good." The Commissioner pauses and shakes his head in disbelief.
The Batman stays silent and unmoving.
"Dr. Arkham is trying to deprogram the ENTIRE asylum, but it's a very risky job. For all we know Joker has commands set up in his victims that could be triggered by our tampering. It's too much for the asylum's limited resources. He's actually opened up to outside offers for help. I've had to commit a force to patrol the place and try to keep the peace. At least the inmates are behaving, for now anyways..."
The Batman stands unwavering.
"Look, damn it, you know I don't need your help! You know what I think about you and your damned crusade! I didn't call you here to sic' you on the clown! He's a psycho and we'll handle him!"
For the first time Batman smiles.
Gordon smirks in response. They both know the city would be lost without the Batman. "I thought that'd get you. What he's done in the asylum suggests he's got a single-minded mission, not random chaos, in mind. I think he'll be coming for you, my friend, to finish what he started," Gordon takes a puff on his freshly lit pipe and lets his words sink in. Yes, something has definitely changed. "You've always walked very close to the edge, my friend, and you know it takes not only great physical skill but sharp intellect not to fall in. I'm afraid that after the bridge you've lost something inside. You know I'm surprised you still put on that suit at night." Gordon takes another puff and looks warily at the Batman. The Batman moves to the edge of the building and stands on the ledge, ready to jump into the night. A hollow voice whispers "You shouldn't worry about me," and he's gone.
'No,' Gordon thinks, 'you've already fallen in. Damn, it's only a matter of time now. Maybe the APB has turned something up.' As Gordon leaves he turns off the Bat-signal and realizes just how much more sinister the sky above, and city below, look without it.
…
"Where is he?"
All about the Batman are broken bodies that just a few moments ago were laughing and joking members of Gotham's underworld enjoying drinks at SnooZ's bar. Only one man is left standing, pinned between the wall and the Batman. His hands broken and pain etched in his face the bartender can barely manage a glance upwards at the Batman without wincing in agony.
"Don't make me ask again."
The bartender can feel beads of sweat pour down his grey moustache as he wonders what to do. 'Everyone else said they didn't know and look at them now,' he thinks, 'they're barely breathing. But if I send him off on a goose chase he could hunt me down. He could do worse!' "I...I don't know. Please don't hurt me anymore." Merciful blackness follows.
…
The barkeep awakens much later to the sounds of many men talking among flashing lights outside his bar. Above him two ambulance workers loom, having attended to his two broken arms they now are discussing who next to work on. "This is the third tonight," one attendant says in a disbelieving voice, "Damn, how can one guy do all this?" The other attendant looks at his partner and is about to say something but the dispatcher's voice comes crackling over their comm. units, "All available personnel to The Gilded Edge, site of major disturbance." Both attendants can only give a shake of their heads before moving on to the next patient.
'He ain't human,' the barkeep thinks. 'How can anyone squeeze four gin joints in one night? How can anyone do all this and just move on and do it again?' The barkeep looks at the casts covering his arms and wonders, 'What if he comes back?'
Nearby he can hear two voices talking. "Commish," says one, "this is insane. We all knew cape-boy was wacky, but never like this. I mean, if it were up to me I'd have just taken a baseball bat to each of these joints ages ago and hit home runs with each of these rats' heads, but that just ain't what being cops, or even law abiding citizens, is about. We've got reports of roving gangs of thugs tryin' to hunt him down, spooking the honest folks. It's like World War III out here and if we're gonna keep the peace, like our job description says, then we've gotta take him in. It's the only way."
"I know the situation," the Commissioner barks, "You don't have to repeat it to me at each call!" The Commissioner pauses for a moment and murmurs "Sorry."
"It's okay. Just tell me to do my job and bring him in."
"I know there's no love lost between you and him Harvey, but we can't have the police join in with these roving mobs. No," the Commissioner looks up at the stars for a second and lights another pipe. 'There are so few stars visible from Gotham's streets, and the sky looks so black, so dark,' he thinks. "We've got to shut the bars down."
Detective Harvey Bullock looks at the Commissioner with a scowl, "Gotham's going to hell and you're just gonna ignore the cause."
"In case you haven't noticed Gotham is already in hell, and it's up to us, ALL of us, to redeem her! Now get some teams together and shut the bars down. While you're doing that I'll try to disperse the crowds. Get to it!" 'Maybe this way,' Gordon thinks, 'you'll actually be forced into some detective work my dark friend. If you are going to survive the Joker this round you've got to start thinking.'
'My God,' the barkeep thinks, 'even the police are powerless against him.'
"Hey you!" a police officer can be seen yelling across several stretchers in the direction of the barkeep. He walks towards the barkeep and shines a very phoney smile, "Could you provide a statement as to what happened? None of these other fellas are willing or able to give me something to sort the mess out, you know, officially. Actually you're the first fully awake guy I've come across. So how about it? What'd you see?"
"Nothing officer...I saw nothing at all..."
…
At McMichael's Bar the party is going loud and strong. Lights, music, dancing and beer keep the crowd in a joyous mood. They don't know what's happening in the outside world, nor do they care. In fact, none notice the figure looming over them in the skylight above. Standing and staring down is the Batman, choosing his main targets, the ones he'll keep conscious long enough to answer his question.
Suddenly the outside air is filled with flashing lights and the piercing screech of police sirens. They pull up to McMichael's and empty out. Led by the rotund Det. Harvey Bullock they flock into the bar. The crowd initially doesn't notice the cops and continues dancing until the sound is shut off. "Alright!" yells Bullock, "This place's booze licence expired! Get out!" The crowd continues to stand, confused. "NOW! Or you're all busted!" With that the crowd heads out.
"You're shafting us!" the barkeep yells, "My licence ain't expired!"
"Really now?" replies Bullock "Then we've made a horrible mistake. Tell ya what, we'll take down your liquor licence number and have some folks look it over for us at headquarters. If it's legit you get it back in a week and can continue your respectful business with your 'ahem' respectful patrons. But yank my chain around and I'll rip up this hole and find something, you just know I WILL find something, to shove you in another dark hole at the station with the Tattooed Man and his boyfriend Slit-Face. So...shut...up." The look of red scowled hatred on the detective's face told the barkeep to accept his generous offer.
The Batman sees all this from above and realizes that a similar scene is being played out in most of the dives he was going to visit. 'Well then, time to HIT the streets.'
…
It's nearly 5 am when the Commissioner pulls his police issued car up to the driveway of his 3 storey town home. 'What a night,' he thinks as he exits and looks up towards home and the police officer on guard in the front. For a moment he thinks how good it would feel to open the door and see his teary eyed daughter Barbara light up with relief and joy upon seeing her father arrive after a chaos filled night. No doubt she'd also be worried about the Batman, but it could be understood. After all, she ran around with him in cape and cowl, helping him to fight the good fight. That is, until the Joker. The house is empty now, a cold and barren place…
The Commissioner shakes his head, trying to remove the unpleasant memory from his mind as he makes his way up the stairs to the brownstone and fumbles for his house keys. He half-heartedly mumbles a greeting to the guard as he approaches. 'They keep rotating the men on duty,' he thinks, 'it's impossible to keep track of names.' However, this officer had a very familiar twinkle to his eye when he replied, and when the Commissioner reaches the top of the steps he notices the apparently friendly smile is actually large and malicious. 'Oh God, the Joker!'
Before the Commissioner can act he feels a sharp sting within his chest which suddenly becomes a dead numbness. Struggling for strength he manages to look at the large hypodermic needle protruding and then feels himself slip away as he desperately tries to grab onto the Joker. He briefly recalls what Batman said last night "You shouldn't worry about me." He was right.
Soon, all is black.
"Ever get a feeling of déjà vu?" the Joker remarks as he drags the Commissioner's still body down the steps to the idle car…
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…