Thanks to all my reviewers! You induce much smilationifying. I like to make up words. Hey, funniness: Hamlet Dr. Seuss style- I will not stab him in the dark, I will not stab him in the park, I will not stab him in the night, I will not stab him in a fight, I will not stab my uncle/dad no not though he be very bad. Got that off a friend's t-shirt. Pretty great, I thought.
Disclaimer: Don't own Batman. Don't have to. I am Batman. I carry things on my belt. Because I'm Batman.
Crest craned his neck nervously, trying to see around the bulky van in front of them. His heart was pounding. He was so tempted to just tell the driver that he wasn't a cop, that this was all a big mistake, but he knew that impersonating a police officer was a felony, and six months of jail time would get him nowhere with his investigation. So he kept silent, praying that they wouldn't get, well, killed.
The radio crackled, and an exasperated voice said, "All units divert down to Lower Fifth. Repeat divert down."
"Lower fifth," said the driver. "We'll be like turkeys on Thanksgiving down there."
Crest's stomach flipped over as the van turned left and the interior of the car was suddenly illuminated by a hostile orange glow. A semi was lying on its side across all three lanes, engulfed in flames.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
"Say your prayers, man," said the driver. "This Joker guy doesn't mess around. We're gonna see blood tonight."
On that grim prediction, they continued down the ramp onto Lower Fifth.
A minute or so later, Crest saw another semi in the rearview mirror, bearing down on them at a speed far exceeding the limit. "Hey-" was all he'd managed before it bashed into the side of the cruiser, send it skidding sideways into the concrete traffic barrier. Crest raised his hands at the last second, and felt them smash against something hard. A dark curtain descended over his eyes.
"Oh no!" the driver was saying. "He did not! This is a brand new goddamn car!"
Crest felt the engine revving, and the squad car backed off of the barrier with a jolt and turned onto the road again.
"Are you crazy!" shouted Crest. "We're gonna die!"
"Hell yeah, and I'm taking them with me." He floored the accelerator. Crest prayed to a God he'd denounced when he was fifteen.
The dull yellow lighting of the tunnel was suddenly illuminated by a flare of fiery orange, and bits of shrapnel cracked the windshield. Crest recoiled instinctively, covering his face with his hands. The car jerked to the left, dodging the flaming wreck of another squad car.
"Jesus H. Christ!" yelled Crest. "Get us outta here!"
"Protect and serve!" the driver shot back. "We're still part of this damn convoy."
Something black and bulky zoomed past them a lane over.
"Thank God!" said Crest, the investigation not even crossing his mind. He was in full force distressed citizen mode now, and his only prayer was that the Batman would save them. The driver, it seemed, was not thinking along the same lines. The car accelerated up the ramp and out of the tunnel. A rhythmic whirring overhead heralded to police helicopters lowering down between the skyscrapers a few blocks ahead of them, searchlights fixed on the giant semi which had first hit them.
"Thank God!" Crest said again.
A second later, both helicopters spun out of control and crashed to the ground, erupting into GIANT BURNING BALLS OF FIERY FLAME!
Crest swore at the top of his lungs. And still the driver kept going.
"Are you kidding me!" yelled Crest.
"Protect and serve!" the driver repeated.
"We're gonna die!"
"Then we'll die doing out duty."
"Not mine," Crest muttered. His voice was lost in the deafening creak of metal as the semi flipped over on its face before crashing upside down forty feet in front of them. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved to the left. The squad car tipped and rolled. Glass shattered, metal bent. Crest squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms up to protect his face. The world twisted around him, shaking him like martini. He must have screamed, because when he opened his eyes, his throat was burning. The crushed metal of the roof of the car dug into his scalp, and his shirt sleeve was caught in the pinched door frame. He turned his head, displacing shards of glass as he did so, to look at the driver. His eyes were open and blank, his mouth slack, blood running up the side of his face. It was only then that Crest realized he was upside down. Gingerly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and let his body collapse onto the roof of the car. Glass grated against his skin, but he disregarded it, and pulled himself out the windshield.
On the open concrete, he rolled over onto his back and stared at the clouded sky. His body was completely drained. He didn't think he'd have been able to move his limbs even if he wanted to.
"Hit me! HIT ME!" bellowed a voice from somewhere to his left. There was a horrible, animal bellow, and then another crash. Crest lifted his head a millimeter from the ground, raising his eyes to look down the street, but saw nothing except nondescript dark shapes clustered around something on the ground. He forced himself over onto his stomach, trying to get a better look. The change of position allowed him to register one fact: the Batman was the thing on the ground. And one masked clown was reaching down to take off his mask.
Running on less than fumes, Crest raised himself to his feet and scrambled forward in the dark, inky pool hugging the sides of the nearest skyscraper. A flash illuminated the group surrounding the Batman, and the clown who'd tried to pull off the mask reeled backwards, smoking slightly. He wouldn't be unmasking the Batman that way. Crest heard high-pitched, maniacal laughter, and saw a man in a purple coat-the Joker-kneel down beside the Batman, glinting straight blade in hand. But behind him, Crest could see another man bearing down on him, a submachine gun clutched in his hands. He pressed the muzzle of the gun to the back of the Joker's neck. Crest edged closer, and the man's face caught the light. It was Lieutenant Gordon.
Crest kept moving, watching the Lieutenant locking handcuffs around the Joker's wrists and then opening the door of the armored van. Unseen by any of the cops or reporters, Batman got painstakingly to his feet and started limping away. Crest followed.
Yeah, so this was intended to go longer, but I jammed my thumb today while sledding (because I have that much talent. Be jealous) and typing is rather painful, so I'm tying this one up for now until it heals a little more. But fear not my chickadees! I, like Buffy the vampire slayer, heal fast. The wait will not be prolonged. Unless we have to amputate...
Thanks for reading. All reviews appersheated.
-esking