CHAPTER NINE
"THE BAT FAMILY ALERTED"
Tim Drake typed furiously at the Batcomputer. The moment the call ended with Dick, he immediately got to work sifting through the internet for information about The Awakening nightclub, background information on Dick's friend, Paul Hudson, and any and all association past and present. But despite all his avenues, he raised no red flags. According to all records, the nightclub was clean, and so was Paul Hudson.
He couldn't get everything, not everything regarding financial information and internal information was online, but what he could get, the majority of what he needed to make a conclusion, the club was legitimate. But Joker and Harley being at the club was not.
Why were the pair at the club? And who was the mysterious financial backer, this silent partner? Yes, the name Jack Filou (Tricker, in French) did sound like a fake name, but the fifteen digit business Inc number was real, and Tim traced it to a bank in the Caribbean. Other than that, he couldn't get anything else about the benefactor.
Based on the information he could get, the club was built twelve years ago by its previous owner and for five years was a staple in the Bludhaven entertainment district, until it fell on some hard times, as if the novelty wore off. It closed down and filed for bankruptcy. There was nothing suspicious about that. He found records in Bludhaven City and financial archives, even its Chapter 11 papers to confirm it. The previous owner even checked out.
For six years, it stayed a hovel, an empty shell, until the club was purchased by Paul Hudson & Assoc., Dick's friend's company, with the help of his silent partner, and redeveloped. Renovations began soon afterwards at great expense and it was up-graded to everything new and modern. All permits checked out, the inspectors, and all the staff that now currently work in the club were clean. Tim conducted a lot of research in such a short time. He knew what to look for and what was redundant information, writing parameters in the Batcomputer for key things what he needed.
According to media outlets, the club had a raving opening night premier with lots of fanfare. Paul Hudson put a lot of money into advertising, and since day one, the club had seen continued success. But something gnawed in the back of Tim's mind, everything seemed too perfect, too clean, and with Joker and Harley—there had to be something? So he had to keep looking, he was missing something — Paul had no association with Joker previously. Why now?
Tim leaned back in his chair as Bruce and Damian exited an adjacent chamber of the Bat Cave, and they approached the lower tier of the Batcomputer. Dozens of windows were opened and displayed on its multitude of screens, the main screen displayed the main data feed Tim was using to view the largest chuck of his research. They were still wearing their exercise gear, they had been engaged in one-on-one combat in the War Room. Bruce had been training Damian, giving him more tricks of the trade.
Damian exhaled, the boy was drenched in sweat, and with a single whiff, Tim could tell the kid needed a shower. Bruce wasn't as bad, but a shower would do him some good as well.
"Hard lesson, I take it?" Tim asked, turning his chair. "I can smell the both of you from a mile away."
Without proof of any wrong doing, Tim played the situation light-heartedly, and didn't inform them of Dick's call. There wasn't anything to tell them, other than the villainous pair were at The Awakening nightclub. If he told Bruce, Tim knew he and Damian would immediate race out and storm the club. Dick said to remain on stand-by. Joker and Harley hadn't done anything yet. He'd wait for another call to determine if action was warranted; judgment call.
"So, what are working on now?" Damian asked, wiping the back of his neck with a towel.
Bruce also had a towel draped around his neck. Bruce gave a quick glance to the main screen before Tim reached over and pressed a button to minimize all windows. "Isn't that the club Dick and Jason are working at tonight?" he inquired. He gave Tim a suspicious look. "Tim, what's going on? Is something wrong? I saw the screen, you were looking into the club's financial records and personal data files."
Tim sighed. There was no point in denying it now. He turned, maximized all windows again. "I'm not sure." And he told them about Dick's phone call. "Joker and Harley haven't done anything yet, they're just dancing. That's what Dick said."
Bruce's face turned dark. "Tim, why didn't you tell me about this before? How long have you known about this?"
Tim looked at Bruce, gulped nervously. "A little more than an hour," he said, looking abashed. "Dick said to remain on stand-by. He says he doesn't want any trouble at the club. If anything happens, he'd call back for assistance."
Bruce whipped his towel to the floor angry.
Damian grabbed the ends of his towel as if to hang on, he gave Tim a sideways look of disgust as if he did something horrible, then looked at the main screen. "That's not like Grayson, especially with Todd there," Damian said. "With Joker and Quinn, he knows the pair are wildly dangerous when provoked. To tell us to stand-by is bizarre…" He looked back at Bruce as if for confirmation. "Does Grayson have a screw loose?"
"He certainly has some explaining to do," Bruce remarked, then pointed at Tim, "and you and I need to have a little talk about importance. Any time Joker is involved, I am to be immediately appraised. Especially if Jason is near."
Tim nodded. "Yes, sir," he said.
—Tt— Damian smacked his lips, shook his head. "For shame, Drake," he said.
"Don't talk down to me, Damian. I was only following Dick's orders."
"You should use more personal discretion like Father says."
"Damian!" this came from Bruce as a stern order to stop antagonizing Tim.
Just then, an alert came on the screen in the form of a phone call from Jason. An icon of an old rotatory telephone appeared on the bottom right side of the screen, Tim's idea. Tim immediately answered it, putting it on speaker.
"Hey Tim, that you?" Tim said yes. "Good," Jason said. He explained about the club having a policy about workers leaving their cells in lockers so they weren't distracted, but being Jason, he had ignored the rule. They could hear music in the background. "Something odd is happening at the club. I can smell it like a bloodhound, the air is fowl here, figuratively speaking. Obviously Dick told you about Joker and Harley, but something strange just occurred…"
"We gathered that from Dick's call about an hour ago," Tim replied to the first remark. "What just occurred?"
Bruce chimed in. "Jason, this is Bruce. Describe the scene for us."
"I'm sitting here at the end of the bar watching Dick dance like some sort of deranged teenager. At first, everything was okay, the club was bust-a-moving, but now it's turned into some sort of crazy mosh pit. He's not himself…Dick's stripteasing, like that time he did in — Okay, that's not pleasant." He described further what was occurring, and that Dick had removed all his clothes expect for a speedo, but he had momentarily exposed his butt to the crowd. They had cheered, but the Bouncers and Security were not stopping it. "This is getting out of hand, Bruce."
"That is not like Grayson at all," Damian voiced shocked. "Is he under the influence of something?"
"My thoughts exactly, short-stack," Jason replied, he spoke more loudly with another song just introduced. "But I have no idea what. No drugs are allowed in the club and Dick doesn't drink. We were talking fine just a few minutes before I called you, then he just abandoned his duties, and…ohhhh…" Jason's voice trailed as if he just observed something disgusting. "Sorry, nothing about Dick; someone just blew chunks on the dance floor. Too much excitement, I bet."
"What are Joker and Harley doing?" Bruce asked with a serious tone.
"If you can believe it, dancing and clapping to Dick's striptease performance. This is weird. Am I hallucinating?"
"Stay where you are, Jason," Bruce said. "We're on our way. We'll take the Bat Plane, it'll be faster than the Batmobile."
"Better hurry, Bruce, or Dick'll run out of clothes—"
The line suddenly went dead.
"Jason?…Jason?" Bruce turned to Damian, then Tim. "No time to shower. Everyone suit up. I want to know what the hell is going on in that club!"
The whole Bat Family was now alerted to the situation.
x x x
"Hello?…Hello?…Damn service provider!" Jason cursed, and slammed a fist to the bar. Was it a drop call? He put his phone away. None of the bartenders noticed his fit. They were all busy watching the craziness on the floor. The atmosphere was getting crazy now, and some of the other servers even bouncers were joining in on the fray.
He thought about entering the crowd and pulling Dick out, to getting him away from all this, and to snap him out of whatever was affecting him, but thought against it. Whatever it was, the influence was strong enough to affect Dick. And Dick was very strong-willed. He survived a direct dose from one of Scarecrow's hallucination drugs once, and that was powerful stuff. He spent several days getting through the mental issues, but he eventually got through it.
But why wasn't it—whatever it was—affecting him? Jason thought. At least Bruce and the others are fully alerted now, and they'll be here as soon as humanly possible — knowing Batman, more than humanly possible.
He turned, and noticed Joker and Harley discreetly moving through the crowd and away from the craziness Dick was now causing, distracting everyone. They pushed through the throng of people and headed straight to their private booth in the back, and then sat down. They probably wanted to get away from all the wildness and Jason couldn't blame them.
Suddenly, there was a loud scream. Jason jumped to his feet with a start, looked in the direction it came from, switching his attention away from Joker and Harley, and thought someone had become assaulted or even worse. But it was only Dick, of all people, shouting with glee, soaking in the attention, and whipping his clothes around, like some drunken college frat fool who had too much liquor and couldn't handle it, loosing all inhabitation.
Jason had had heard that certain types of alcohol (and even drugs) affected people in more ways than others, he could attest to that when he drank; he would try different brands of booze for variety, but would always return back to his favourite; but Dick wasn't a drinker, he always preferred a natural high. Dick always said if he wanted excitement and needed to unwind, he'd either patrol the streets of Gotham, prowling the building tops like a prowler, or work out in the War Room, re-creating his Flying Grayson years, performing gymnastic and acrobatics exercises.
Once, Jason even took in a performance when Dick said he needed to think. Dick spent an hour seemingly engaged in mindless repeated routines that he said he had learned since childhood. Jason knew all the moves, since he was once a member of an acrobatic family, too. But with Dick, he did it with such grace and poise, that in comparison to his older adopted brother's natural talent, ability, and flexibility — Dick deserved to win Twister every time. And it was said, with instinct, thinking about your actions was a secondary function. Dick Grayson was an awesome acrobat.
But, as if things weren't strange enough, he also saw a Cassidy dancing in the mix now. Something was affecting her, too. He looked at the ventilation system. He had noticed with every vent, there was a little piece of ribbon attached to each, to indicate air was blowing, and it was. It was starting to get a little humid in the club, too, or perhaps, that was because there was so many people, he couldn't be sure.
Jason turned back to Joker, but all of the sudden, he and Harley were gone, and the booth was empty. He left the bar and pushed through the crowd, even forcing people to get out his way until he made it to the booth. The sound was deafened here with all the soundproofing and he looked briskly at every aspect of the area. Then he saw it, and only someone who had a keen eye would see it—perfect separator lines in the large squares that encompassed the booth. That meant the wall moved.
He searched for a hidden switch and found one underneath the table. He shifted in the padded leather seat and flicked it. The booth itself rotated and the wall flipped. When it stopped, he suddenly he found himself in a large, non-descriptive, white coloured room with no doors or other way out. The music was barely audible in this secret room.
He shifted out of the booth and stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, and gazed around. He was bathed in a soft white light and the walls gave off a self-generating luminance, it was not your standard lighting. It almost felt like a panic room. He banged on each wall, but each wall seemed solid. The sound that came back was non-reverberating which normally came when a wall was built as a stabilized wall.
That was until he got to one section in the corner. Again, it was very tight but he observed very thin slits in the walls indicating a door, a rotating door. When he banged on it, it sounded hollow. He pushed on it, but it wouldn't budge. Was there a switch like that under the table? He hovered his hands over the wall all around the door, but he couldn't find anything like a hidden press switch. What if Joker had a remote control? If so, then Paul Hudson had some serious explaining to do.
"Where did you go, you damn bastard?" Jason shouted.
And suddenly, a trap door opened up from beneath his feet, and he was plunged into darkness.
To Be Continued…
