Author's note: The Joker's interrogation is very loosely based on the scene in the movie, but most of the dialogue is mine.
Chapter 7: Gullible
Everything was ready. Dick had thrown out all unnecessary items and boxed everything else. His Red Hood costume was buried safely at the bottom of the box holding the clothes Wally had given him months ago. He'd gone through the apartment three times, making sure he left nothing behind that could raise questions with the landlord; he wasn't quite so concerned about Batman. He figured the pill bottles looked innocuous enough from their place in the trashcan. If Batman were to find this place and test the bottles' vestigial contents, it would merely confirm that Dick used to live here.
Dick sorted through the boxes one last time, making sure the cash that wasn't on his person was hidden enough that nobody would notice it if he had to leave it unattended. A few extra bills sat on the coffee table. Dick had calculated that, with the money he was due to receive from the dealers tomorrow, he could get by without them. Sam was waiting outside the door to help him take his boxes to the taxi. Dick would find a way to slip the cash into his pocket before they parted ways.
Having dawdled enough, Dick taped the boxes shut. He only had three. It was a funny feeling, that his life could fit into three little boxes. Dick could have carried them himself, but Sam had insisted on helping out. Shoving the money from the coffee table into his back pocket, Dick opened the door and let him in.
"Ready to go, Dan?" Sam asked.
"Yep." Dick picked up the nearest box and passed it to Sam. "All ready." He stacked the other two boxes on top of each other and balanced them in his arms.
"I can take another box if you want."
"Nah, I've got it, thanks." Dick and Sam left the apartment, Dick pausing to shut and lock the door for the last time. He took a quick detour to drop the keys onto the landlord's desk—the landlord himself was up a few floors, informing the tenants that their rent for the month had already been paid by an anonymous benefactor. Dick had had a lot of cash to spare, but he knew a lot of his fellow tenants were too proud to accept charity. It was easier for everyone if his contribution was kept anonymous.
"Thanks for helping me out," Dick said while he and Sam carried the boxes down the stairs outside the apartment complex.
"Least I could do." Sam opened the yellow taxi's back door and slid the box inside. "I owe you for watching Lisa when I couldn't get a babysitter."
"It was no trouble." Dick slid his boxes into the taxi. "I know it must be hard finding people to watch her. Most babysitters aren't prepared to deal with Leukaemia."
"Still, thanks." Sam lifted his arm as if he was about to pat Dick on the shoulder, but thought better of it. "It's a shame you have to go. We're going to miss you."
Dick shrugged. "I have to move on. One of my old friends managed to track me down the other day. As much as I trust him on a personal level, he doesn't understand why I want to keep off the grid."
"Well, you've got my number," said Sam. "If you ever need help, don't be afraid to call."
"Thanks." Dick made a silent promise never to do that. His problems weren't exactly the kind a civilian could fix. Even if he could help, there was no way Dick was going to drag him into this mess. He had a little girl to think about.
"Take care of yourself," Sam said, drawing Dick into a quick hug. Dick had to quash his instinct to dropkick him across the street, instead taking the opportunity to slip the money into Sam's jacket pocket.
"You too," he said as they separated. The taxi driver honked impatiently. "I better go." He hopped into the backseat with his boxes. Sam closed the door for him and they waved to each other as the taxi drove Dick away.
Once the taxi had driven around the corner, removing Sam from view, Dick's smile fell off his face. He'd done everything he could to make sure his now ex-neighbours would be okay for the time being, but he still felt a sense of loss. He had become a lot more attached to those people than he'd thought. That wasn't a good thing, not for Dick. He didn't have room in his thoughts to worry about his old neighbours on top of his plans, Batman, Robin… and Wally.
Dick pulled the sleeves of his sunny yellow hoodie over his hands to combat the cold. This hoodie had been Wally's. Dick had taken to wearing it a lot more than the clothes he had purchased himself. It was a little big for him—he had to roll up the sleeves to use his hands—but he hadn't been able to bring himself to part with it. Wally had worn it the day Dick told him his name.
No matter how hard he tried, Dick had been unable to completely break himself off from his old life. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to anymore. Wally had complicated things, and Dick couldn't help but resent him a little for that.
"You sure you want to do this, Batman?" asked Commissioner Gordon. He and Batman were standing in the visitors' area of Arkham Asylum that evening, a world of dull colours and mould clinging to the corners. "I can interrogate—"
"I will interrogate him," Batman said firmly. One of the main reasons why Batman had chosen to go through the official channels to establish a meeting with the Joker was to keep him accountable, which would hopefully stop him from snapping the bastard's neck in half.
"If you insist." The commissioner didn't look especially happy with the idea. "We'll be right outside."
Batman followed the Arkham guards down the hall. He could already hear the Joker's uncontrollable cackling and the sound made his gut twist. It must have been one of the last things Dick heard. Batman pushed that thought away and locked it in the furthest reaches of his mind. This interrogation was going to be difficult enough without Dick fresh on his mind. The Joker would be fishing for weak spots. He couldn't let the Joker get inside his head, not this time.
One of the guards opened the heavy metal door, stepping aside to let Batman in. The guy was bold enough to make eye contact; most of the Arkham staff tended to avoid Batman whenever possible. He had to appreciate the man's bravery. He was relatively young, but if he kept his cool in the presence of Batman, there was a good chance he'd do well at Arkham.
The door shut behind him, leaving Batman alone with the Joker, who was seated at a metal table with his hands cuffed in front of him. He gave Batman his typical broad grin. The two years in Arkham hadn't changed him a bit, except for the featureless white jumpsuit. Straitjackets had recently gone out of fashion here, even though most people would agree the Joker was certainly the straitjacket type.
"Hello, Batsy. Did you miss me?"
Batman seated himself opposite the Joker, dropping his manila folder onto the table. "No." He opened the folder and tossed a small stack of photographs on the table right in front of the Joker.
"Ooh, what's this? A present?" The Joker sorted through the pictures. "Oh, you shouldn't have."
"He calls himself the Red Hood," Batman said, ignoring the Joker's babbling.
The Joker gave a dramatic sigh. "People these days. No appreciation for originality. My Red Hood look was more of a flashy Maître D rather than—what is this? Punk kid? Gangbanger? I don't even know what the kid's trying to do here." The Joker shoved the photos back in Batman's direction. "You see, this is what happens when I take a vacation. People start getting lazy."
Batman gathered the photos back into the folder, watching the Joker warily.
"Except you, of course," the Joker continued, even going as far to pat Batman's hand. "I even heard you got yourself a new partner." He let out a quick giggle. "Didn't take you long, did it?"
"Stay on topic," Batman said, keeping his voice under control. "We have a new Red Hood on the streets who may be responsible for a number of bombings against well-known criminal hideouts."
"Don't look at me," the Joker said, lifting his hands defensively. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. What's the new kid like, huh? Where'd you find him? Did he fall from the nest?"
"So, you have no knowledge of this new Red Hood," Batman said, phrasing it half as a question and half as a statement. He was not going to discuss Robin right now, especially not to the person who killed the first one.
"Only what you've told me," the Joker replied. "Now, since I've been good, how about you throw me a bone? Is your new Robin an acrobat, too? Can he fly?"
"We're done here." Batman got up, the folder held tightly in his hand. As he made for the door, the Joker spoke again.
"I can't wait to meet him. I wonder if his birdsong will be as beautiful as his predecessor's. Robin Number One sang quietly, of course, but it was such a sweet song. Ah, I miss it."
Batman paused, his fist in the air, about to knock on the door to signal the guards to let him out. He would not take the bait. He'd brought the police with him for this exact reason. He would not rise.
"I'll give Robin Number Two back to you when I'm done with him, of course. Piece by piece." The Joker paused, obviously thinking. "Do you have a mailing address, or should I just send them care of Gotham PD?"
Batman slowly placed the folder back on the table. "Try it, and the only person who will be in pieces is you." He strode around the table, coming to a stop behind the Joker's seat.
"Oh, you and your threats," the Joker said affectionately. "Do you remember that night, the one when you nearly followed through on them?" He let out a nostalgic sigh. "I was just in the middle of telling you how your little Robin cried while I beat him, when BAM!" He slammed the table. "You really cut loose. I hadn't even used up all my material. I was so proud." He tilted his head back to meet Batman's eyes, grinning even bigger than usual. "You wanna hear the rest of the story? I've been waiting here, all alone, for you to come back so I could finish."
"No." Batman forced his feet to move. He had barely made two steps before the Joker started talking again anyway.
"He was so convinced you'd come save him, you know."
Batman froze, his resolve melting away. Even in the end, Dick had had faith in him. And Batman had failed him.
"He did eventually realise you wouldn't make it in time," the Joker continued. "Started going on about you and his friends coming after me for revenge. He was surprisingly chatty for a kid with a collapsed lung. I don't think he was even afraid." The Joker was starting to sound more and more lucid, which disturbed Batman even further. "Even when the tears were streaming down his face, he was able to get enough breath to sayfuck you. You would've been so proud to see him, Batsy." The Joker was talking so quietly that Batman had to step closer to hear him. "A fighter until the end."
"Yes," Batman said quietly. "He was. And it is out of respect for his memory that I don't snap your pasty little neck right here and now."
"How sweet." The Joker made a gagging noise. "Euch. The Bat's gone soft. How old's your new Robin, by the way? From the newspaper photos I've seen, he looks about the same age as the first one before I stopped him from aging. I wonder if he'll outlive his predecessor…"
"He will." Batman snatched up the folder and banged on the door. Enough was enough. "Give my regards to Harley Quinn, if she's talking to you after the cafeteria incident."
"She'll come around," the Joker said happily. "She always does."
The young guard from earlier opened the door. Batman stepped through without another word. He had been so close to throttling the Joker that it actually scared him a little.
"Did you learn anything?" the commissioner asked Batman as they left the waiting area.
"The Joker doesn't know anything," Batman replied.
"Well, there goes our one lead." Commissioner Gordon sighed. "Any other ideas?"
"Robin found a warehouse worker removing chemicals from a recent shipment," Batman said. "Unfortunately, Red Hood's presence meant we couldn't interrogate him then, but that is tonight's mission. I emailed you a copy of the photo Robin took."
"I'll take a look." The commissioner got into his car. "Keep me informed."
Batman nodded curtly and stepped back to let the commissioner drive away. It was in that moment that he realised he had been shaking for their entire conversation; Commissioner Gordon had just been polite enough not to mention it.
"Pull yourself together," Batman muttered, hopping into the Batmobile and tossing the file onto the seat next to him. Next order of business was questioning that warehouse worker. He had already run facial recognition on Robin's photo and found a name, Joe Smith. He wasn't working tonight, which gave Batman an opportunity to speak to him privately and, hopefully, not tip off whoever was paying him to do their dirty work.
Batman keyed Joe Smith's address into the batmobile's GPS and drove away from Arkham at last. By the time he parked in a dark corner of the street near the apartment that had been his destination, he had finally stopped shaking. It wasn't like him to get rattled like that, not while wearing the cowl.
Batman climbed the fire escape nearby until he reached Joe Smith's floor. He lived alone and had no family, so it was unlikely anybody would be around to interfere. As expected, he was watching television by himself, shovelling popcorn into his wide mouth. Batman let himself in the window, loudly snapping it shut to get the man's attention.
Smith flinched and switched off the TV. "He told me you'd come for me."
Batman put on his deep voice, the one he used to intimidate criminals. "Who?"
"The Red Hood." Smith calmly met Batman's gaze. "He told me to tell you it was him."
Batman stepped away from the window, coming to rest behind the man's chair. "How does he get away with the theft without alerting security?"
"Wish I knew. The guy just pays me to take it away."
"Where do you take it?"
"Nope, not part of the deal."
"And what deal is that?"
"The deal where you just walked right into my trap." Red Hood was leaning against the kitchen archway, repeatedly tossing a large chef's knife into the air and catching it again. "I guess I was wrong the other day. You are losing your touch, Batman."
"Am I?" Batman threw a batarang, which knocked the knife out of his opponent's hand. Red Hood wiggled his fingers, but showed no other reaction.
"I hope I didn't hurt the little bird too badly," he said. "You should keep your kids on a shorter leash, Batman. I don't like hurting children, but that doesn't mean I won't."
His patience stretched thin from his earlier encounter with the Joker, Batman was not in the mood to indulge this maniac. "I'm not here for small talk," he said. "I want you to stop this… crusade of yours. I don't know what you think gives the right to act as judge, jury and executioner, but I am not going to tolerate it."
"Of course you're not," Red Hood said with a layer of faux sweetness. "Say, Batman, have you checked the footage of our last encounter yet? Noticed anything fishy?"
"I assume you mean something specific," Batman replied warily.
"Check out the train station footage." Red Hood walked to the window, slowly as if he had all the time in the world. "I can't believe you haven't noticed it yet. You must be very distracted." He pushed the window open. "Well, it was nice having this little chat." He climbed onto the sill, and aimed the next sentence over his shoulder, brandishing a handheld switch. "By the way, before you think of pursuing me, you might want to locate the bomb in this building." He hopped out of the window. Batman could have tried using his grapple to trap him, but that wasn't a great idea when there was a bomb to attend to.
Smith dropped his handful of popcorn back into the bowl, flinching from Batman's scowl. "I—I didn't know, I swear."
Batman activated his wrist computer—he didn't use it much, having a preference for physical computers—and set up a trace program to find the signal receiver on the bomb. It was in the basement. Batman raced out the door and down the stairs, grinding his teeth in irritation that there was no way to get down there faster without exiting the building and leaving the inhabitants unprotected. Evacuation was pointless at this stage and would just create a panic.
He reached the ground floor, startling the landlady. "The basement," Batman growled. "Now!"
The landlady recovered quickly from her shock, pulling out a set of keys. "This way." She hurried to a dark corner of the room and unlocked a door. "It's at the bottom of the stairs." Batman flew past her and practically slid down the steps.
The bomb was sitting on the floor in front of the boiler. Batman pulled out his wire cutters and dismantled the outer casing to get to the wiring inside. A loud crack made him leap backwards, but it was just a cheap firecracker setting itself off. After the firecracker had burned itself out, Batman grabbed a charred slip of paper inside the box. On it was one word: Gullible.
Batman growled, crushing the paper in his fist. He slowly walked up the stairs again, seething. He was just thinking he should check on Joe Smith when the sound of a gunshot rolled down the stairs to the upper apartment floors.
"Oh my," the landlady said as Batman surged up the stairs. If his hunch was correct…
It was. Smith was sprawled on the floor of his apartment, a bullet hole in the centre of his forehead. Cursing under his breath, Batman called the police. The night was just getting better and better.
