Chapter III: Zwischenzug
In a place like Gotham City, large events were commonplace, and large crowds equally so, regardless of what said event may be. At Convention Hall, the big night of the annual Gotham Toy Fair had come, and the festivities were in full swing. Exhibitions of new models and ideas were on display, and a few vintage toy vendors were peddling their wares - everything from action figures to model train sets to baby dolls to clockwork marvels were all visible, each more colorful and whimsical than the last. The crowd was, perhaps surprisingly, even more varied: collectors, enthusiasts, children (and their parents), and even representatives of local or nearby toymakers were all in attendance, just to name a few choice sorts.
One would think a Toy Fair would be a place where billionaire Bruce Wayne would seem out of place. However, with people of so many sorts present, from the highest classes to practically the lowest, and considering he was a representative of the Children's Museum, and a sponsor for Convention Hall, he was not quite as odd a fellow to be seen as one might think.
However, as he stepped out of his silver Lamborghini and made his way through the a private area of the parking garage, with Alfred at his side, that didn't mean he didn't FEEL out of place. Bruce Wayne brushed a stray black hair away from his face, and adjusted the tie of his formal dark gray suit.
"A Batsuit is in the locker room of the Hall, sir; preset for your disposal, should you require it," Alfred said, as crisp as ever.
"Hopefully I won't need it," Bruce nodded.
"I hope the same thing every day," Alfred muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing, sir, nothing," Alfred answered, shaking his head, and straightening his back. "Now, I know how difficult it is for you, sir, but I WOULD recommend smiling once we are upstairs."
Bruce sighed, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a single index card; notes for his speech. He planned it to be a short one.
Very short.
Pocketing the card, Bruce Wayne nodded to Alfred and tapped the side of his head; stuck in one ear was what looked like a Bluetooth device.
"I'll be in touch," he said.
Alfred nodded back.
"I won't be far."
Without another word between them, Bruce left the side of the car and walked through the parking garage. It was no time at all before he left the private, quiet area...and promptly encountered a horde of photographers and young ladies.
He repressed the urge to sigh.
Here we go…
The philanthropist forced his most charming, sparkling smile onto his face as he heard his name being screamed at him from every side; he chuckled and lifted his hands in a placating gesture.
"One at a time, please, one at a time!" he laughed in a jovial manner, and the loud roar of the paparazzi and fangirl squealing dimmed. "Thank you very much for this welcoming committee."
"Mr. Wayne!" a photo reporter called out. "What sort of surprise does the Children's Museum have to cap off the festivities tonight?"
"That would be telling," Bruce smirked teasingly. "I can tell you this much: a special exhibit of rare foreign toys, directly from the museum, will be on display tonight. What those toys are, however...well, that's for me to know, Mr. Knox, and you to find out."
Knox, the reporter, rolled his eyes.
Among the throngs of giggling young women, a young lady approached Bruce who stood out from the rest: a teenaged girl with huge, doe-like eyes, and shoulder-length blonde hair. She was dressed in a green jacket and skirt, as well as a pink blouse and old-fashioned saddle shoes; a golden heart-shaped locket was around her throat.
"Mr. Wayne?" the young woman began, in a polite, timid voice, offering a small red autograph journal to him, "May I please have your signature, if it isn't too much trouble?"
The other young woman all began to cheer and echo her sentiments, bouncing up and down; the blonde-haired teenager blushed and inched back a bit. Bruce smiled indulgently and nodded, taking a pen out of his breast pocket as he moved to accept the girl's notebook. She gave him a sparkling, childlike smile as he scratched his name into the first empty page he found.
"You seem a little old to be interested in dolls," he said quietly, a playful look in his eye.
The young girl smiled a bit more, a twinkle in her eye.
"You're never too old to be young," she said, then giggled softly and bowed her head in a show of thanks as she accepted the book, and then cheerfully skipped away. Bruce watched her go for a few moments, almost thoughtfully...then shook his head and turned to the other young women all desperate to get a signature from Gotham's most eligible bachelor…
In the locker room area of Convention Hall - where special guests could quite literally hang their hats or change out if needed - a tall, lean fellow hummed cheerily as he coated his face in white greasepaint. He looked forward to events like this; it was very kind of the Convention Board to let him perform at this event! Nothing made him happier than seeing children smile, but perhaps because of that, it seemed harder and harder to get proper work nowadays.
Clowns got such a bad rap, especially in Gotham City.
He shrugged to himself and sighed softly; he supposed it didn't matter too much. This could be his big break; when even folks like Bruce Wayne came, one knew this was QUITE an event! He didn't know what could come of tonight, but he just hoped he'd be able to put a few smiles on people's faces.
Just then, he heard the locker room door open and close. Instinctively, he looked up, ready to greet whoever had arrived...then froze, the unpainted portion of his face turning so pale it seemed to coat itself white, as he gasped in horror at the sight of the figure who entered.
"You!" he exclaimed, backing away against the wall. "I-I know you! I've seen you in the papers! What...wh-wh-what are you doing here? How did you…?"
He trailed off as the figure approached him, one hand upon a flower stuck in their lapel…
"No...no, no, please! PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME! I'M JUST-!"
FSSS!
A cloud of purple mist fell over the man's face. He coughed a few times...then, slowly but surely...he started to chuckle...the chuckle became a giggle...and the giggle escalated to a roaring, rollicking laugh, which lasted for several seconds before, gasping for air the man fell to the floor...and moments later passed out...his eyes bugging out of his skull, as his face was contorted into a maniacal grin.
The other figure chuckled, crouching down and playfully patting the innocent clown on the cheek, then rose and opened the man's duffle bag, pulling out the colorful costume within…and singing to himself...
"Vesti la giubba e la faccia infarina…"
Some time later, Bruce Wayne wandered through the rows of displays and vendor's booths at the Toy Fair. His periwinkle eyes peered through the throngs of the crowd around him. Everywhere he turned, he half-expected to see a red fedora or trenchcoat...but if Carmen Sandiego was coming to such a public place, it seemed unlikely she would be here in full regalia. He saw many auburn-haired women, and a few with the same steely blue eyes, but none of them resembled the elusive master thief beyond that.
His earpiece buzzed, and he tapped it.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"I was just wondering if you had caught sight of the lady, Master Bruce."
"Not yet," Bruce sighed. "Perhaps I'm barking up the wrong tree...a toy fair hardly seems like her usual style."
"I thought the same. I've been keeping an ear out for any activity that might seem to fit her better; no such luck yet."
"Mr. Wayne!" called a voice - a convention staff member in thick-lensed glasses. "We're ready!"
Bruce nodded to the man, giving him a smile and holding up a hand in a "be right there" gesture. The man smiled back and walked away.
"I'll call you back, Alfred," Bruce said softly. "If we are lucky, after this, I can go out without incident…"
"Your choice of 'we' is interesting, sir," Alfred responded dryly.
"Keep in touch," Bruce said softly, and hung up before moving towards the small stage and podium where he had been directed.
Unbeknownst to Mr. Wayne, another figure, with violet eyes, green hair, and bone-white flesh, smiled a huge, crimson smile in a corner of the Hall. He was dressed in the black-and-white habiliments of a pierrot clown, as well as a black Venetian half-mask.
The figure chuckled as he watched Bruce Wayne approach the podium.
"Can I have a puppy?" came a chirping little voice only a few feet away. The man turned, and his wild grin softened into a sweet and tender one at the sight of a small boy in a red and blue shirt, smiling back happily as his mother held his hand.
"But of course, sonny-boy!" the Clown declared, and pulled a handful of long, balloons out of his cart. "What color would you like?"
"Orange is my favorite!" the boy chirruped.
The Clown grinned, revealing huge white teeth, nodded, and lifting a finger in a "one moment" gesture, then placed all the balloons but a single long orange one into the cart. He then turned away from the boy...there was the sound of air filling the balloon...then the Clown turned back around, and with a few practiced pulls and twists...created a dog-shaped balloon animal for the child. He then picked up a black marker on his cart and drew a smiling mouth, eyes, and a nose onto the balloon's "face," and handed it to the boy.
"Don't forget to take him on walks, and be careful! He's a real 'airhead,' you know. Ha Ha HA!"
The unsuspecting lad giggled and waved goodbye. The Clown waved back, then smirked as he watched Bruce Wayne once more...never once glancing at the canister of gas he had used to fill the balloon.
The image of a psychotic-looking grin on the container was perhaps a hint that helium was NOT the filling of choice.
The Clown smirked a bit wider, keeping an eye on the many, MANY balloon animals he had handed out to kids, in every color of the rainbow, all over the Hall...
"Ladies and gentlemen," Bruce Wayne said into the microphone. "Years ago, my father, Thomas Wayne, tried his hardest to make sure the children of Gotham could have a better life. They are our future, after all. I lost him at an early age, as all of you are aware, and so for that reason - among others - my childhood was very different from most…"
"Well, for one thing, other kids didn't have a butler!" came the voice of Mr. Knox, who had followed Bruce into the Hall.
Bruce laughed good-naturedly, and so did several others.
"Too true," Bruce smiled, then gestured to a large display covered by an olive-toned tarp. "However, regardless of these facts, I have always believed my father had the right idea. So, I founded the Gotham Children's Museum in his honor; a dedication to childhood and everything that comes with it, where kids could learn and interact about things they'd never seen before, and adults could remember what it was like to be a kid. Childhood is nothing without toys, and the Museum holds some true rarities. For tonight's entertainment and education, on behalf of the Children's Museum, myself and a few others would like to present a special exhibit of vintage toys brought over by early European immigrants of Gotham City. Under this tarp are four exhibits, which I will soon unveil: one the first Rubik's Cubes from Germany, an old Russian nesting doll, a French marionette puppet, depicting a fairy-tale king...and a Jack-in-the-Box depicting the famous Swiss entertainer, Grock the Clown, circa 1943."
As the audience applauded and chuckled at the amusing but simple announcement, the Clown in the corner grinned wider, and reached into his cart...pulling out a remote control device, with a large red button.
"From one famous clown to another, Grocky," he hissed to himself, "I think the atmosphere here needs a little more...excitement…"
He pressed the button.
For a few seconds nothing happened...then…
POP! POP! POP!
Loud pops were heard as balloon animals all over the Convention Center broke, and a purple-tinted gas suddenly began to fill the air. Immediately, people started to panic in confusion and surprise, yelping and yapping like frightened dogs as they inhaled the plum-colored mist…
Bruce Wayne, seeing the commotion, acted fast; he raced off the stage, his face a mask of shock, trying to blend in with the rest of the crowd as he made a beeline for the exit, making a show of putting his hand over his mouth and coughing...while secretly applying a special filter he kept with him at all times…
He barely crossed the threshold when he heard gales of screaming laughter begin to echo behind him. Still wearing the filter mask, he turned on the bluetooth device in his ear.
"Alfred?"
"Has she made her move?"
"Something is happening. But it's not Carmen Sandiego…stay in the garage, and keep an eye out…"
As Bruce Wayne rushed for the locker room, back in the hall, as the purple mist began to clear, people - still giggling like rabid hyenas - were dropping like flies. Men, women, and children alike all fell to the ground...each with the same hideous, bug-eyed, warped grins on their faces.
The Clown - the only person, it seemed, who was unaffected - chortled with joy as he removed his pointed pierrot cap and domino mask.
"Now THAT is what I like to see!" he crowed. "Look at all these happy faces! Just the sort of welcome royalty like myself - the Clown Prince of Crime - deserves!"
The Joker laughed and swaggered through the aisles, moving from the corner as he approached the stage and podium where the tarp-covered display was.
"Now, I'm sure you all can still hear me, and you should really consider yourselves lucky; this particular brand of my patented Joker Venom will only last an hour or two. You'll all go back to living out your usual boring affairs as soon as the effects wear off. Now isn't that nice of me, letting you keep your lives and your personal belongings? Don't be alarmed: I'LL TAKE BOTH NEXT TIME. HOO HOO HO HA HA HA!"
Cackling and hooting with mirth, the Joker ascended the stage and threw off the rest of the pierrot outfit, revealing his usual purple suit beneath. He cleared his throat, adjusted the mic, and held his pointed nose high as he addressed the unconscious "audience" of grinning forms.
"Childhood is nothing without mirth!" he declared. "And as Gotham's Chief of Whimsy and Glee, I hereby decree that any exhibits devoted to such things should be MINE to own! And as the most notable clown of our fair metropolis - not THE Metropolis; baldy has things taken care of there, heh! - I think I shall begin by bringing my compatriot, Grock - My Fellow King of Clowns - home to a place where his talents can be properly appreciated!"
So saying, the Joker strutted over to the display, and with a flourish, tossed away the tarpulin. In one of the glass cases beneath, sure enough, was a colorful (albeit faded and weathered) Jack-in-the-Box; the box itself was covered in a colorful checkerboard pattern, while the figure outside the box was a small cloth puppet on a spring, designed to resemble Grock: dressed in his trademark cap and oversized tweed costume, a painted smile stretched over his face.
The Joker placed a finger to his chin in a show of thought...knelt down before the glass case, and gently knocked on it with his knuckles.
"Knock-Knock! Who's there? Eistile! Eistile who?"
CRASHK!
With a smash of one fist, the Joker shattered the glass, and pulled the Jack-in-the-Box out.
"Eistile what I like! HA HA! Get it?! I steal what I like?!"
The audience remained silent, grinning up at the ceiling morbidly.
"Yeesh...tough crowd," snorted the Joker, and pushed the figure of Grock back into the box gently. Whistling triumphantly, he placed the box under one arm and prepared to leave...
WHUMPH!
"Oof!" the Joker grunted, the toy falling from his hand as he was thrown to the floor by a huge dark form, which pinned him down. The Ace of Knaves growled and glared up...only for his glare to become a sinister smile as he came face-to-cowl with his favorite sparring partner.
"Hello, Joker."
"Ahh, Batsy! And here I thought you were too focused on that silly law-and-order business to worry about a bunch of toys! Did you come here to buy some LEGO figures of yourself?"
The Dark Knight growled, and responded by rising, picking the Joker up by the collar...and hurling him away. The Harlequin of Hate cried at as he was thrown against the nearest wall.
"Ach...ugh...heh heh heh," he cackled quietly, rising unsteadily. "Well, that's a definite no…"
"You're getting sloppy," Batman snarled. "Barely a day out of Arkham...and now you're already going back."
"Me? Sloppy? Not in the least!" the Joker declared, and bowed theatrically. "I'm simply no match at all for your intrepid detective work! In fact...I think you deserve a pat on the back!"
Abruptly, the Joker lunge forward, one hand extended. Batman tried to move away...but the wicked clown managed to grab hold of his shoulder…
...And the hidden joybuzzer sent a surge of elecricity violently coursing through the Caped Crusader's veins.
Batman jolted and groaned, and fell back...and with a menacing laugh, the Joker promptly reared back and gave him a punting kick across the face.
"Ha Ha Ha! NOW who's getting sloppy, Batman?" the Joker snapped, and darted off towards the downed civilians. He reached down towards one of his smiling victims, seeking a weapon.
"Excuse me, I need this for just a minute," he hissed.
Batman rose and wiped one arm across his face, then lowered into a predatory crouch as he faced the Joker, who promptly wheeled around…
...Revealing he was holding a wooden sword, snatched from a small child on the floor. With a shrill giggle, Joker adopted a flamboyant fencing pose, twirling the sword challengingly.
"En garde, Monsieur Guano-Breath!" he called, and wildly swung the heavy wooden sword at his cowled playmate. Batman easily ducked the swipe, and swung back with an uppercut, which caught the Joker square under the chin and sent the clown sprawling, still gripping the sword.
The Joker snarled and hurled the wooden toy like a harpoon from the floor, only for Batman to side-step away and lunge forward. As the evil clown rose, he managed to block a punch from his foe, only for the masked man to catch him off-guard with a knee to the stomach. The villainous jester moaned and doubled-over...then let out a sharp yelp as this was followed by a kick to his back. Batman then hurried forward and grappled with the Joker, forcing his arms behind his back as he tried to handcuff him…
"Ooh, so strong!" Joker spat. "I have to give you a hand for that...in fact, I'll give you two!"
And the Joker suddenly jolted forward...leaving Batman gripping two false hands as the Clown Prince of Chaos promptly broke away and sprinted forward.
"He who laughs and runs away lives to laugh another day!" the Joker sang out, one arm swooping down to snatch up the Jack-in-the-Box he had dropped as he raced for the exit.
For a moment, Batman got ready to chase after his nemesis...then froze, as he realized something the Joker hadn't yet.
The box he was holding wasn't the same one he had dropped earlier. The Jack-in-the-Box of Grock had a checkerboard pattern...the one the wicked clown now held was striped.
Distracted, and realizing he had been fooled, the Dark Knight, turned instinctively…
...Just in time to see a familiar pair of saddle shoes, and the edge of a green jacket, vanish into another exit.
Batman narrowed his blue eyes, glanced in the direction the Joker had fled...then, with an aggravated sigh, went in the opposite direction…
Moments later, the blonde-haired girl Bruce Wayne had met the other night stepped out through a hatch doorway onto the roof of Convention Hall.
She smiled brightly as she held the real Jack-in-the-Box in her hands.
"I got it, Aunt Carmen!" she almost squeaked, practically prancing over to the person she addressed. "I did just what you told me to! It was even easier than I thought!"
Carmen Sandiego smirked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a satellite dish on Convention Hall, her long hair blowing in the nighttime breeze as it rippled over the edges of her long red coat. About her was slung a large leather satchel.
"Excellent work, Patty," she said, and took the Jack-in-the-Box of Grock from the girl. She hummed thoughtfully as she inspected the bottom of the box for a moment, tilting her head one way and the toy another.
"Are you sure it's the right one?" Patty asked, clasping her hands together hopefully.
Carmen smiled wider, and nodded.
"Yes, this is exactly what I was looking for."
"What a coincidence," came a dark, gravelly voice. "Because you're the one I was looking for."
Patty and Carmen Sandiego looked up...and the teenaged girl let out a yelp of fright and backed away as Batman emerged onto the roof, scowling beneath his mask.
"Ah! You picked up on my little hint!" Carmen congratulated, and placed the toy of Grock into her satchel. "Tell me, did you enjoy our little imitation game?"
"No more clowning around," Batman growled. "It's not often someone plays a joke on the Joker."
"I'll take that as high praise," Carmen sniffed.
"You're playing with matches, Carmen Sandiego. You have no idea just what kind of people you could be-"
"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Detective," Carmen purred. "I know EXACTLY what I'm doing, and I know EXACTLY what sorts of people will take notice. I simply don't care."
"You should start," came yet another new voice.
CRACK!
"Yah!" exclaimed Patty, as a long rope wrapped around her...and she was suddenly yanked off her feet, and cried out as she fell over and banged against a vent.
With a sound like a striking snake, the whip around her unwound itself as Patty groaned and clutched her skull, dazed...and both Carmen Sandiego and Batman looked up.
The former grinned.
The latter nearly groaned.
"Catwoman," both greeted at the same time.
Catwoman glared through the yellow lenses of her goggles, which matched the golden belt around her waist, and the golden claws that tipped her gloves. She was dressed in skintight gray leather, from head to foot, save for her gloves, boots, and the face part of her mask, which were all colored black. She wore black lipstick on her sneering mouth, and snarled like an angry tigress as she flourished her long, dark brown bullwhip.
"I was wondering when I might get the opportunity to meet Gotham's Feline Femme Fatale," Carmen said, pleasantly. "It's an honor."
"The feeling is NOT mutual," Catwoman hissed.
"Selina," Batman began to say, "Don't do anything rash…"
"Forget it, Bats!" spat Catwoman, then turned back to Carmen. "I don't care how smart you think you are, or how famous you may be: Bast was supposed to be MINE. I had EVERYTHING worked out."
"Then perhaps you should have worked faster," Carmen suggested, calmly.
Selina snarled and inches forward...only for Batman to bar her way.
"Selina!" he hissed. "What's gotten into you?"
"I don't like people taking my title or my prize," Catwoman responded, bluntly. "I'm finding that sculpture for my own."
"It belongs to the museum. To the people of Gotham."
"As if you think that could work on me," Catwoman scoffed. "And, for the record...you're letting her get away."
Batman's eyes widened, and he turned around fast...just in time to see Carmen Sandiego jump from the roof of the museum to another rooftop.
He turned fast to address Catwoman...and cried out as she hissed and kicked him in the abdomen. With the Dark Knight momentarily distracted, Catwoman promptly raced after Carmen Sandiego, leaping onto the rooftop and following her at a breakneck speed.
Batman soon recovered and moved forward to try and follow...then paused, and glanced back as he saw the stunned Patty begin to stir.
In a movement like lightning, he crouched down, and hurriedly cuffed the blonde-haired girl to the vent.
"Wh-wha…?" the teen mumbled, and tugged at the cuffs...then sighed dismally. "Awwww, maaaan…"
"Stay here," Batman ordered.
The girl looked up and gave him a rather sheepish look.
"As if I have a choice," Patty answered softly.
Batman rolled his eyes, and without another word, hurried to follow the fleeing thieves across the rooftops.
Catwoman's angry, Carmen Sandiego is mocking me, and the Joker got away…
...This is why I hate going to conventions...
