The ancient oak doors to the aging cathedral were blasted open by the battering ram of the Gotham PD SWAT team. They quickly but cautiously filed into the abandoned building, the lamps on their rifles piercing deep into the thick and heavy darkness. They split up into three teams, two edging against the walls and the third filing through the center aisle.
The team on the left scanned the corroding statues of the saints that stood proudly in their niches in the wall. Farther up were statues of gargoyles, supposedly guarding the representations of the holy men. There was one group of horned creatures with their heads bowed and covering their bodies with their enormous, bat-like wings. The officer at the end of the line let off a shudder as he aimed his light at the demonic-looking figures. Nothing there. He shifted his rifle back toward the front.
One of the gargoyles lifted its head. The figure narrowed its eyes as it watched the intruders of the holy sanctuary, contemplating its next move. Then, in a flash, the being had disappeared from its perch.
The officer guarding the rear of the line going through the center aisle was so caught up manning his position as he moved along that he didn't notice the pair of hands from behind reach for the pressure point on his neck and pull him up, without a sound. The officer in front noticed his missing team mate two seconds before he, too, was silently incapacitated. The leader of the line was about to make a noise to alert the other two teams before a black gloved hand gently but firmly squeezed the pressure point on his neck and slowly and quietly let his body slide to the dusty ground.
Alpha team leader had just noticed the absence of noise from the aisle when something metal whistled past his head and loudly embedded itself in the stone wall next to him. He heard a similar noise come from the opposite wall. He looked at what had hit the wall. It was a flat piece of metal, fashioned in the shape of a bat.
It was then that he noticed three still bodies in the center aisle, the LED lamps on their rifles illuminating the dusty air hugging the ground. His eyes met Bravo leader's eyes. A line of understanding quickly passed between the two men. They signaled to each other to tighten their search, especially above their heads.
Suddenly, the doors to the cathedral clapped closed, drawing the attention of both Alpha and Bravo team. The suddenness of the noise shattered the holy silence and removed the source of external lights from the squad cars outside as well as any visual contact with the police outside. It spooked the officers a little. It was as though the place were haunted, but only few of them knew what it was they were truly up against.
With their attention on the doors, the two three-men teams were caught off-guard as a dark cloaked figure loudly dropped onto the ground in the center aisle. This sudden movement drew the attention and light from the six officers toward their attacker. It was indeed the prey they had been stalking but who had briefly turned the tables on them.
Six rifles simultaneously clicked in the direction of the shadowy figure. "Freeze, police!" both team leaders barked at the man. He said and did nothing, but kept his eyes on the ground.
Both teams slowly and carefully edged their way over to the masked man, whose gaze remained on the ground, like a repentant child who knew he had done wrong. Alpha leader signaled for the other five men to remain at bay while he made his way to the still figure.
The man, with his face still planted toward the ground, shifted his eyes to the team leader, and a split second later snapped into action. He leaned his body forward and slammed his leg back, slamming a great deal of force and weight into the side of Alpha leader's head. This set off the remaining SWAT team as they attempted to keep control of the situation. The masked man, however, had other plans. He exploded into a flurry of kicks and punches aimed at the team members. It was a mass collection of limbs connecting with bodies and rifles quickly being relinquished from surprised grips. Shouting and sounds of impact echoed throughout the cavernous space of the enormous sanctuary. In a minute, the entire team was unconscious on the ground, defeated.
The figure reached down and removed the radio from Bravo leader's vest. He pressed the side button and spoke in a low growl of a voice. "Gordon, this is Batman. Leave your men out of this. I don't want any more body bags tonight more than you do. Trust me on this." With that, he switched off the device before a complaint could crackle through. Already, the cacophonous sound of heavy force smashing into the doors was sounding, to no avail. Batman had already taken care of that.
He looked down the aisle to the towering cross at the end of the room, illuminated by the pale blue moonlight shining through the right-hand windows near the ceiling. A new figure stepped out from behind the cross. This one was dressed in a large mauve coat and had a rather ghastly pale face, covered with a blood red smile, part of which was carved into the cheeks. His head was topped with long, greasy green hair.
"You know, you should have let me take care of them," the madman suggested in an off-edge voice as he walked closer to Batman. "I would have done it in less time, and it would have been a lot less trouble." He looked down at the still forms. "Perhaps a little messy, though," he added with a creepy grin.
"No," Batman declared. "No more death."
"Fine," the insane jester sighed. He looked up, his head still tilted down but his eyes zeroing in on the masked man. "Have it your way. But we're still going to have some fun before the night's out." With that, he snapped his fingers.
The shaft of light pouring over the cross was doused instantly. Batman looked up just in time to see something like a panel being placed over the window. Of course, that meant that the madman, the Joker, was out of his grip, for now. Batman heightened his state of awareness. Being left in the dark in the hands of a mind as complex as the Joker's could only inspire the worst and most twisted of the imagination.
All was silent, until Batman heard in the distant echo the sound of a needle gripping onto the grooves of a record on a phonograph. A waltz started up with a quiet intro slowly building up. Batman tried to ignore the music, knowing that while it was the Joker's way of setting the mood, it was also a distraction.
That's when he heard it: the light padding of feet on the stone ground, making its way toward him from behind. The figure must have had night vision on, seeing as how it was apparently making a straight beeline for him in pitch black darkness. Batman remained still, and patiently anticipated his attacker, as the intro to the waltz was building up.
The figure was but a few feet away. The singing of wind blowing against a blade whistled in the air; by the sound of that, the figure was close. Batman still kept his ground, his entire eye sight still blindfolded by the blanket of the darkness.
He could hear the approaching foe behind him. He could almost feel the blade slowly being raised right behind his head…
The building of the intro was reaching its climax. Batman ducked down, and swung his leg back behind him, running only by his instinct. His foot connected with a soft body. The intro had reached its climax and was silenced suddenly but temporarily by a dismissive percussion. A low groan accompanied the contact, before the assailant loudly dropped to the ground.
The waltz began.
A blinding, pale blue spotlight opened up on Batman from an oblique angle. He squinted as he tried to focus on the source of the light. It was of no use. He could see nothing behind the light.
The mocking drawl of the Joker's voice drew his attention immediately. By the sound of it, he had already made his way to the top. "You just may take me down tonight, Batman, or I might escape, who knows. Either way, as I said, we're going to have some fun tonight."
Upon hearing this, Batman went on the defensive and listened and watched all around for anything, as the waltz lightly swayed. And that's when they came.
They all looked about the same. Jokers. Everyone of them had long, greasy green hair and a red smile painted over a white face, dressed in purple. And each of them had a knife.
"Which one of us is real?" one posed, while another added, "And which one is the charlatan?" Those two both had voices similar to the Joker's.
"See, you like playing dress-up and identity crisis," another Joker stated. "I like to do something similar, only I make other people do it," claimed yet another.
The Jokers were all around Batman now. There were six of them. Batman could take them on, though, even with the knives. He'd been trained to take on a hundred more than this.
"It won't matter to you if any of us is even real, though…"
"…Because you'll be Swiss cheese when we're done."
The psychotic clowns all raised their blades almost simultaneously, the intent to murder frozen on their faces. Batman ducked down and pulled a leg sweep that took out two of the Jokers on his right. He then rolled out of the way as another from behind charged him, only to collide with one from the left. Batman took their heads and mashed them together, almost comically, knocking them out cold. Just as he had done so, however, he felt something start to tear through his armor into his back. Yelling, he dropped the two clowns and turned around to land a fist into his attacker's face. The Joker fell to the ground, also out. There was still the issue of the sixth Joker, plus one of the original two he'd taken down with the side sweep.
It was then that Batman realized he had something to get himself out of this, something that would save him some trouble. He pulled his grapple gun out from the back of his Kevlar belt and fired up in the direction of the spotlight. The line connected and began reeling him up and forward, away from the remaining Joker clones.
When he finally hit the stone side of the balcony where the spotlight was, he painfully pulled himself over the wall and pulled out the knife still lodged in the back of his body armor. The blade was very thick and heavy, making it possible to tear through the Kevlar bi-weave. It felt like the blade had definitely pierced skin. He would have to talk to Lucius Fox about getting that reinforced armor set on Monday.
"Why so serious, my batty friend?" a familiar voice hissed behind him. Batman spun around to see the original Joker standing near a doorway that led to an outdoor balcony. The Joker nodded his head toward the doorway. "What do you say we take this outside? This is the house of the Lord, after all. Let's show some respect." With that, he eased his way backwards outside, motioning for Batman to try him.
Batman charged at the demented clown, sick of this already. Just as he almost had his hand touching the lapel of his jacket, though, the madman turned around and dashed out to the side. He had been quicker on the draw at that moment than Batman. Batman didn't care, he was set on capturing the man.
He stepped out and looked both right and left before he realized that the Joker was nowhere in sight. He didn't like this.
He heard the licking of lips seconds before he heard the Joker land on the cobblestone ground from the top of the Gothic archway. The Joker was holding in his right hand a rather large knife, an eight inch blade. It wasn't the blade that had Batman worried, though. It was the look on his adversary's face. He was willing, and insane, which made that will all the more dangerous.
He stretched out his arms, and waved the Dark Knight forward. "Come on."
Batman, however, stayed where he was. He wasn't going to play this clown's game.
The psycho and the vigilante both stood staring at each other like a showdown in a western, not moving, waiting for the other to make the first move.
A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, briefly shattering the tension. This was followed shortly afterward by a sudden thick downpour of rain, instantly soaking everything.
Neither man cared. They remained glaring into each other's eyes, staring into each other's souls. There was something about this night, this moment, which seemed like it would be a defining instant in their rather unique relationship across the spectrum of the law.
Something lit in the Joker's eyes, and he gave a half smile. "Fine." With that, he flicked his left wrist, and produced a small switchblade that materialized from his sleeve. He clicked it open and in a flash sent it flying toward Batman.
Batman raised his armored arm to shield the blow. In a second he knew what had happened, but it was too late. Just as he had raised his arm near his head, the Joker charged at him, the eight-inch blade aiming to kill.
Batman had almost no chance to brace himself as the Joker made contact with him. All he could do was hold off the hand clutching the knife as the Joker struggled to plunge the knife through his opponent. Rain dripped off the blade onto Batman's trembling arm that was trying to keep that blade back.
Batman called upon all his weight and managed to shove the Joker off of him and into a nearby wall. The clown's heavy body slapped against the wet wall, splashing in the downpour streaming from the sloping top of the roof. Batman grimaced, as having done this had aggravated the stab wound in his back.
The Joker looked up in fury at Batman, irritated, and roared. He was about to advance when Batman dashed over and slammed him against the wall again. The wall would give him an advantage.
The rain trailing from the overhang hammered onto the top of his mask. It was starting to give Batman a headache. He needed to end this now. He reached for the wrist gripping the eight-inch blade and successfully wrapped his fingers around it.
The Joker pulled a surprise move, though, and with his free hand smashed a small stone fragment into the side of Batman's head. The mask was protected by a light Kevlar layer, but the impact still threw him off. He let go of the Joker's right wrist and instinctively reached for the throbbing part of his head.
Taking advantage of this, the Joker turned the tables and swung Batman around and against the wall. The Joker pressed the masked man at the clavicle against the wall with one arm and pressed the massive knife against his throat with the other. He was breathing hard, seething with anger and caught up in the moment.
The two men glared at each other, both slowly easing their heart rates and adrenaline, but not cutting the tension. A mixture of amazement and vehemence was alive in the Joker's eyes as he stared into Batman's gaze.
"Why…won't…you…die?"
This caught Batman off guard. Nevertheless, he softly offered a reply. "Because…I will not…cannot let myself." That was all. "I…have a job to do, and I won't…let anything get in the way." His breathing was still easing its way back to a normal pace.
Something in the Joker's eyes read that he had a change of mind. He kept his hold on Batman for a moment, a decision taking place in his visage, and then he slowly eased off of his enemy. He then turned away and sauntered over to the stone balcony.
The rain was still falling, bathing them in the moment, seemingly drowning the element of violence that had just taken place.
Batman remained at the wall, confused, not taking his eyes off of the homicidal clown. What had just happened? Was this a trick of some kind, to get Batman to let down his guard? It would be a perfect opportunity for the Joker to turn around and take advantage of Batman's confusion. Considering this, he stayed on the defensive, watching and examining the Joker, waiting for any sudden actions.
The Joker, however, kept his gaze over the side of the stone wall, down on the street. He barely moved.
"I know what you're thinking," he quietly uttered, in spite of the slightly loud fall of the rain. "Why did I just let you go? Why didn't I strike? Well, no." He waved his hand, as if refusing something offered to him. "No, this isn't some trick to throw you off.
"I could have killed you right there, where I had you, but the reason I didn't is simply that it didn't feel like the right time." He paused, and looked up into the night sky, closing his eyes and taking in the rain pellets as they splashed onto his painted face. "When, or if, I finally kill you, I want it to be right, to feel right. I want it to be a grand moment, for you and for me. You see, I believe in going out in a blaze of glory. I especially believe you would at least deserve that. You're like my great prey, that is so ever elusive, and that I have developed such an admiration for in the midst of my quest for your downfall."
He shifted his face back down and turned to face Batman again. "You see, you've earned my respect. You fight for the law, but you decided not to do it the conventional way, with a badge. You chose to not be tied down by regulations and all of that other bureaucratic nonsense. You act how you feel is best, and don't wait for permission from a superior and let the moment pass. You just do it, and that is the purest way how it should be done.
"We're both the same. We both work on the far extreme on our side of the moral spectrum, so much that we can be considered crazy. Of course," the Joker laughed briefly, "I would say you're of more sound mind than me most of the time." He cleared his throat and continued. "Nevertheless, we both operate about the same, going to certain extremes and thinking outside the box, throwing in style and never looking back, doing what works. That's why I respect you.
"Now, that's not to say I see the light, so to speak, and will change my ways, because I acknowledge that what I do is what most would consider wrong. This system is broken and eroded. It is so destroyed that it drove someone like you to carry out its original purpose of justice yourself, and your methods are quite effective at times, I must admit."
Batman listened to all of this, and eventually accepted the notion that the Joker was not leading him on. He accepted the Joker's apparent sincerity, and made his way over to the balcony.
There was a part of Batman, of Bruce Wayne, who wanted so much to hate this man who had destroyed so much. He had widowed wives, orphaned children, and introduced chaos into the already fragile elements of society, without so much as a second glance or regard for the consequences. In fact, that chaos, the death and destruction, was the very thing that he wanted to accomplish.
And it was amazing how trivial all of that seemed to the Joker at this moment when what really mattered to him was the deadly game of tag he enjoyed playing with Batman during every encounter.
The two men stood side by side, looking over the collection of lights from the buildings and police vehicles, almost as if they were normal, like their struggle with each other had never existed. It was a unique moment for a unique pair of individuals.
Batman was now the one to break the silence. "I used to feel the same as you, that the justice system was obsolete. The thing is, you have to have the right people do it, and give it time. I simply aid it by going places it can't. That's why I do what I do."
The Joker snorted in a cynical tone. "Maybe it works in other places, but like you said, it's the people. And with a police force as dirty as ours up for hire, true justice is a rare luxury that few in this town can enjoy. Besides," he turned to the vigilante and gave a grotesque grin, "with characters like me running rampant, you have a new agent that sooner or later will destroy this already feeble system: chaos, in its purest, most unreasonable and craziest form. Look at what it did to your precious district attorney, it drove him simply insane. Think about what it'll do to the rest of the governing body of the city over time. I won't be the only one, either.
"Your freakish antics will only invite more freaks and, shall I say, unorthodox criminals over time. I'm just the opening act." The Joker, silent for now, resumed his gaze over the Gotham skyline with a triumphant expression on his face.
Batman mulled over this. Gordon had made this point to him long ago, back when he'd first began his campaign to clean up the city. The police lieutenant had warned of the escalation the masked vigilante would inspire in the criminal populace.
"Well, since it's already begun, I have no other choice now, do I?"
The Joker turned to his adversary with a slight questioning look. "Well, what do you choose?"
"I have to keep fighting. This city can't take you on by itself."
Joker listened and started to laugh, but it wasn't a mocking laugh. It didn't seem he disagreed entirely with Batman's reasoning. "Okay, so you'll fight for this city. But, in the end, when you've finally reached that inevitable point of retirement, either by choice or by death, what will you do? Crime will go on. It existed before you were even conceived, and it'll exist after you're gone, like a colony of roaches in an old motel room. And besides, why defend a city as decrepit at this?"
Batman considered this. He was quiet for a moment. The Joker smiled in triumph once again, thinking he had outsmarted Batman this one time, not by violence but by words.
"One of the reasons I took on this burden was so that I could be an example. This city managed to scrape through one of its worst periods after seeing the murder of one of its own elite. I reasoned that if I took a stand and could be the solid rock for everyone in the chaotic storm of crime in Gotham, then I could motivate at least some of the citizens to stand up for their own. If I can inspire even one person, then I've succeeded."
The Joker thought about this, and nodded with a grin. "A bit cliché, but you do make a point." And with that, he decided to end the topic with his silence.
The pair remained standing as the rain continued to pour down. It was like a baptism of wisdom and understanding for them that night. The tranquility and lack of anticipation of attack remained in the air.
Something occurred to Batman. "Why do we keep this up, you and I? After listening to you tonight, you seem to retain a great deal of intelligence and some element of sanity. Why waste it on destructive outlets?
"I could get the help you need, and get you back into society. You don't have to be an outsider, and always be living on the edge, looking over your shoulder." Batman paused for a second.
"Because the longer we keep this going, the more destruction there'll be, and eventually we might very well end up killing each other. I don't want that for myself or anyone else, including you." Batman finally ceased. He hoped against anything that he could reach this killer that he hated and yet cared about. Who knew what had driven him to snap and lose a grip on reality so as to go on such a murderous rampage? Surely there was still something within this killer that Batman could still reach before it was too late.
The Joker held a vacant expression on his face. Whether he was considering this or not, Batman couldn't tell. He could only hope. The one thing left to do. The thing that was left in the box when all other evil and chaos were loose.
"No."
Batman felt a tiny stab of disappointment, but at the same time he wasn't surprised. He masked his disappointment with a stony visage and listened for any explanation, anything that might clue in to the workings of this insane figure, something that he could use to his advantage later on.
The Joker rolled his head to the side, and cracked his neck. He was treating this, like everything else, as if it was as trivial as the weather.
"I felt I've reached the point of no return. All of this is just too much fun to give up just so I can conform to standards that I have never believed in.
"If it means anything…I'm sorry." Something changed in his tone. There was a trace of regret, masked by indifference.
"A very small part of me would very much like to believe you're right, that it can all work. The rest of me, though, just can't forget that Humpty Dumpty can't be put back together again."
Batman's disappointment was replaced with a sense of resignation, slightly tempered with bitterness. His good intentions were wasted on this lost soul. This man had lost his humanity long ago, and with it any chance for hope of redemption, it seemed.
At that moment, the rain finally began to let up. The Joker looked up, water streaming from his messy hair, and smiled. "Hey, look at the bright side. At least the rain stopped." He turned back to see that his counterpart was gone. The smile left his face. "As well as our conversation, apparently."
Suddenly, a powerful light washed over his single form, shining from a police chopper. The usual monotonous voice boomed through the megaphone. "This is Gotham PD. Get on your knees and put your hands on your head."
The Joker sneered at this command and turned toward the doorway where he had come out from, only to be greeted with multiple automatic rifles being shoved in his face, held by trained professionals in solid black.
The Joker laughed and raised his hands, like it was a prank being pulled on him. "Fine," he called out into the air as the officers rushed him and cuffed his wrists behind his back. "You're like the guy who skips out and leaves me to pick up the check." With that, he gave one last grin into the supposedly empty night air before letting the team shove him back inside.
There would be another night.