Chapter 10: Trouble in the Penthouse
Disclaimer: read chapter 1
"Get your asses on the couch!" Happy ushered the white couches in the living area. He shoved front desk Nina towards the direction, who nearly tripped on her heels. Luckily, Bordeaux caught her and didn't set off her gun.
"And drop the gun!" Dopey added, gesturing the weapon in Bordeaux's hand. The dark skinned woman huffed, knowing that she had no choice. Four men against one armed. No contest. She simply tossed the weapon that slid under the table that contained a lamp and phone, creating a screech from the tile floor.
The happy-masked clown seemed to be calling the shots. He gestured the women on one couch, while the butler remained standing. After all, he had access to Wayne's loot.
"Get your hands under your asses!" Chuckles snapped at the women, aiming the gun at them.
"Dude, you made me drop my gun!" Bordeaux opened her mouth, more outspoken than the other hostages. She seemed mad but only at herself for failing her mission, once again. She was so fired. Maybe getting shot and killed was the best and most cowardly escape.
"We are unarmed-ah!" She earned a hard blow to the face by Chuckle's gun.
Tears dropped down to the women's cheeks, watching blood drip down Bordeaux's sharp jaw. A two-inch gash, no doubt, will scar on her left temple.
"Set your hands on your asses!" he repeated. "Move! Move! Move!"
This time all three women complied to his request.
"Old man," Happy didn't leave his attention on the butler who's still calm and collected. The man should be in fear. That was the normal response to this type of situation. It angered the clown, almost tempting to fire his gun right now.
"We are not getting any younger! Where's the loot?"
"Upstairs, sir," Alfred replied.
"Then move it!" Happy gestured his gun towards the stairs.
"Sir, if I may," the butler lifted a finger up, ready to make his point, "the safe requires a combination. Something that I don't have."
"That's why God gives us tools!" Chuckles shook the duffle bag strapped to his shoulder that almost sounded like jingle bells. Unfortunately, there were no presents in Santa's bag.
Jenny closed her eyes, pretending that this could be a bad dream and that she would wake up in her own room in Florida. She winced, feeling burning heat at the back of her head. She was afraid that it was a gun. It might as well be.
She slowly turned around to not see a gun pointing at her, thankfully. Instead, what she saw was a whole lot more creepy. The clown in the bozo mask was looking straight at her. He didn't keep an eye on Bordeaux who could easily pull a surprise weapon or weeping and pleading Nina. His gun wasn't trained on anyone. His eyes were analyzing her. She shivered, quickly faced the action on front. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the creepy clown in the back of her mind, silently whispering her mind with meaningless comfort.
"Bob, come with me to the loot," Happy instructed, didn't realize that he slipped Chuckle's real name - Bob. He swiftly turned to his other two companions. "You two, keep on them."
Before anyone could do anything, the phone set on the table rang. Everyone turned and stared, holding their breaths at the sound.
"Who is that?" Dopey demanded.
"Don't tell me its the cops already!" A hint of panic cracked the voice of Chuckles - Bob.
Jenny could hear footsteps behind her. She looked to her right to see Bozo checking the caller ID number on the phone set.
"Who is it?" Dopey pressed. When Bozo didn't answer, he rushed to the phone to see for himself. "Shit! It's Bruce Wayne!"
"Why the fuck is he calling his butler for?" Bob wondered.
"Did we pull a silent alarm?" Dopey asked.
"If we did, the cops would've been here," Happy explained with logic, "or better yet Wayne Protection would be calling instead. Thank God, the big man created more than just weapons."
Happy pulled up his hoodie slightly to reveal his bulletproof vest and belt buckle underneath.
"For God's sake, sir, there are women present," Alfred scolded, only it was silenced by Happy's next move that didn't involve stripping, thankfully. The masked clown was holding up a device from his pocket. It looked like a walkie-talkie.
"Yeah, baby!" Happy chuckled underneath. "Our special weapon called a jammer! No way Wayne's security tech can detect us shooting people with this in our hand!" His buddies were no doubt laughing at their accomplishment.
Alfred and Bordeaux couldn't help but look at each other with little anxiety. How could the clowns know about Wayne's security protocols and how to block them?
"You know..." Bordeaux opened her mouth to speak. Guns immediately aimed at her. She closed her mouth and eyes for a brief moment to puff up with pride, refusing to get intimated by killer weapons. "I have men downstairs, wondering where we are. We have been here for too long. Don't you think that wouldn't go unnoticed? They'll know that something is wrong."
"You don't need to worry about them, bitch," Happy chuckled, earning a fallen face from Bordeaux. She dreaded the worse. "We killed your BFFs downstairs. In fact, we needed a change in transportation, their van is way better than ours, right boys?" His posse chuckled or nodded in agreement.
"Oh my God!" Nina choked for breath. "Please! Please don't kill us!"
The phone persisted for a reply.
"Someone should answer the phone," Alfred suggested. "Master Wayne is a paranoid man."
"He didn't seem to mind drinking and burning his place down." Dopey retorted, earning a laugh from Bob.
"Good one."
Happy nodded. "Fair enough, old man. You answer." He trained his gun at the butler, waving it slightly as a gesture for him to get the phone. Alfred lifted his chin up with pride, slowly stepped towards the table.
"Mm-mm." The noise perked the attention on the silent clown himself - Bozo. "Her." His voice deep, just like the others. "The butler might code the billionaire to the cops."
Jenny assumed he was talking about Nina or Bordeaux answering. Her bet was on Bordeaux. Her head bowed, squeezing her eyes and mouth shut.
"Okay, fine," Happy agreed.
She suddenly felt her arm yanked upright, causing her to scream and writhe against Happy's grip. Her right calf scratched from the glassy pointy end of the coffee table located in the middle of the room.
"No, wait! NO!" Jenny protested. "I can't!"
Her eyes opened to see a cloudy image of a black-suited man on one couch - she assumed to be Alfred. She blinked and rubbed her vision back to crystal clear. He body was facing the higher table that had the ringing phone, lamp, vase, Bordeaux's gun nestling underneath, and a masked clown crouching behind it. Bozo.
"Please!" Jenny begged. "I can't!"
"Talk to him," the clown, behind or front of her, commanded. "No tricks and no one dies. These lives are in your hands, do you understand?"
"I can't do this."
"You're making a mistake!" Bordeaux protested.
Jenny yelped at another punching sound and painful yelp. No doubt Bob hit Bordeaux with his gun again.
"You don't have a choice, sweetheart." Happy forced her camera ready as he pressed the speaker button on the phone.
"Hello? Alfred?"
Jenny gasped, feeling the steel barrel pressed against her temple. She had to speak now.
"B-Bruce!" Her voice came out more frantic than intended.
"Jenny?"
Her breathing heaved. The soothing shushes breathing against her ear didn't give her any comfort.
"H-Hi, Bruce."
"Jenny, what are you doing here? Why aren't you all at the ice rink?"
"Oh, um - uh-"
"The guards called in to tell me that they haven't heard from you all or group one."
"Yeah, um - uh."
"Jenny, what's happened?" From the tone of Bruce's voice, he knew that something was wrong. He might call the cops. The robbers would know, and people would die including her. She must get her act together or else people were going to die.
"No. No. Everything is fine," the words were completely opposite of her voice. She was already in tears.
"Jenny, you don't sound fine. Where's Alfred?"
"I know. I know..." She gasped a deep breath.
"Put Alfred on the line."
"Oh um..." Jenny turned to where Alfred was sitting, but the snapping fingers in front of her earned her attention. The bozo clown in front of her shook his head, indicating that the butler can't come to the phone. "I'm sorry! Sorry, Bruce, but... I-I can't do that."
"And why not?" he demanded, meanwhile declining Kathy her turn. The sound of her sister brought up the waterworks from the teenager.
"Because I - I - uh..." She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to puke. She had to cover her mouth to secure the acid bile coming up her throat. She found it funny that she lied about having stomach issues when she no doubts felt the churns by this situation. That gave her an idea.
"I'm sick!" she responded. Everyone paused from both lines. The only sound escaped was Jenny's heavy breathing.
"You're sick?" Bruce asked.
"Yeah." The urge to vomit faded, though her head started spinning. She instinctively pressed her fingers on her forehead that was pulled back by Happy. "Um, I thought - I thought I was better to skate, but it turned out I wasn't." She closed her eyes, picturing the fraud story in her head. "I was... I was taking a shower and I didn't make it in the toilet. I threw up, and - and now Al-Alfred is cleaning the - the mess."
"Where's Bordeaux?"
"I-I don't know. I think - I think she was on the phone. I passed out on the couch - yeah, the couch. How long were you guys calling?" She suppressed the need to smile. If she didn't have a gun pinned to her skull or robbers threatening to kill, she would've celebrated her act of deceit. A part of her always wanted to be an actress on TV.
"Not very long. I'm sorry to disturb you. I just got worried about the phone call."
"It's okay. I'm sorry, I-"
"Hold on, Jen. Kathy wants to talk to you." Before Jenny could speak, her sister's voice on the other line brought her to tears.
"Jenny, are you okay?"
The girl sniffled, quickly wiping her nose and eye with the back of her hand.
"I'm okay. M-My stomach is churning, and I'm sleepy. I'm so sorry. I feel bad that Alfred had to clean the mess-"
"Bruce said not to worry about it. Depends on how you feel, maybe dragging to a plane tomorrow is a bad idea."
Jenny blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah, remember, the trip from Disney World?"
How could Jenny forget? 1994 during Spring Break, the family of four and her grandparents journeyed to Disney World by car. By the time they were taking leave, thirteen-year-old Kathy got food poisoning and threw up in Dad's truck. Five-year-old Jenny was thankful to be riding with Grandma Mimi and step-Grandad Robert.
As Kathy was spilling the story, Jenny gasped at the sudden pressure on her temple.
"Cut her off. Cut her off," the man harshly breathed against her jaw. Jenny couldn't help but gag at his skunk odor. What had he been smoking? Better yet, what had he killed?
"Kat, I'm not feeling good. I think I'm about to throw up again." Jenny pleaded. She wasn't entirely lying.
"Oh, right sorry. Okay, I'll let you go. Drink some fluids, take some medicine. Once Alfred is done with the cleaning, get him to give you a trash can in case you don't make it in the bathroom. Tomorrow, I might take off from work to take care of you, if you still don't feel good."
"Really?"
The older sister scoffed."No! Are you kidding me, Jenny? I don't want your sickness! Unlike you, I got a job!" Jenny sighed sadly, nearly slapping herself for not knowing better.
"What a bitch," Dopey murmured quietly. He used to think that Bruce Wayne was the most stuck up in the city.
"Listen, Bruce and I are about to go. We will hurry back, okay?"
"Okay..." Jenny wanted to tell Kathy the truth.
"I'll let you go."
"Okay."
"I love y-"
"Kathy!" Jenny spoke with a thought in mind, trying to block out the demanding whispers of Happy.
"What are you doing, bitch?"
"Yeah?" Kathy asked.
"Um... Mom-Mom and Dad called earlier," Jenny began. "They wanted to tell you to call Grandad Tommy and wish him a happy birthday."
There was the silence of uncertainty on the other line. Jenny couldn't blame her.
"Jenny-"
"I know! I know it's late! Grandad might be sleeping, but I already let Mom down by coming here. I don't want her to think I'm incompetent of passing a simple message. Please, Kathy. Just stay in that restaurant and take the time to make that call. Please!"
Jenny held her breath, hoping that Kathy was smart enough to pass the message.
"Okay," the sister's breathing hitched slightly. "Okay, um - I'll - I'll do it. Just take it easy, and like I said... everything will be okay."
"I love you, Kat... I'll talk to you soon."
Those were the last words before Bozo ended the call.
"Good girl," Happy cooed. Jenny whipped her head to the opposite of Happy, refusing to feel and smell his weed breath for another minute. "Buying us time for the loot. You gave us a good reason to let y'all live, after all!"
Jenny yelped, shoved into the women's arms on the couch. They watched as Happy and Bob forced the butler on his feet to upstairs. She ignored the dirty look from Bordeaux. When they thought that she added time for the robbers when really she just shortened it.
~000~000~000~
Kathy was surprised to not have dropped Bruce's cell on the floor. Her heart was pounding against her chest, almost in cardiac arrest. The woman was too young to have heart trouble. She ignored the concerned questions from her best friend.
"Bruce," Kathy's petite hand couldn't wrap around Bruce's toned wrist but contained a white-tightening grip that was concerning. "Call..." She flipped the phone open and closed repeatedly. "We need to call - we have to call!" She wasn't thinking straight. Her mind couldn't help but wonder of all the horrific possibilities in the penthouse.
"Kathy, what's wrong?" Bruce demanded.
"Bruce, we need to leave! We have to call the police! Call Batman!"
"What?!" Alan was just as confused as the rest of the group.
"Kathy," Bruce cupped her arms, cooing her to take deep breaths. "Talk to me. Tell me what's happened."
"Jenny... Jenny told me to call our grandfather Tommy to wi-wish him a happy birthday."
Bruce nodded, still contained a confused look in the eye. "Okay... and-"
"Bruce, our grandfather died from cancer! He passed away before I was born!"
Now the table understood. Jenny, Alfred, Bordeaux - they were in trouble. Something happened in the penthouse.
"Oh my God!" Rachel covered in the mouth in shock, urging the couple to leave. Harvey didn't hesitate to pull out his own phone to alert the GCPD.
Kathy looked around frantically, before snapping her eyes at the phone. Patrons were staring their way. The owner checked in their table to see what was wrong. Bruce tossed a couple hundred dollars on the table, not bothering to ask for the bill. He pulled Kathy from her chair and snatched his phone from her. On his way out, he too called for backup - specifically Lieutenant Gordon for assistance.
~000~000~000~
Hands under the butts didn't apply anymore. It didn't matter for the women were unarmed. Bordeaux was holding the two young ladies close, assuring them that everything was okay. Jenny stretched her neck out to the view from behind, seeing a bright spotlight shining in the cloudy sky. Its middle contained a shape that was a blur due to the clouds. The robbers were oblivious to the signal outside. They believed to be in the clear. How could Batman possibly know the Wayne penthouse had been compromised? They were prepared. Batman wasn't God, at least some didn't believe that theory.
Bordeaux was eyeing the gun that was supposedly under the table. If only Jenny got a hold of it when she was standing by it. What could the little girl do? She had a gun to her head. Bordeaux's gun contained six bullets. Two men were gone, two were left. There was a fifty percent of shooting and surviving. She must take hold of the gun and keep her girls safe.
Jenny couldn't help but wonder at the bozo clown. The clown who suggested her to take the call. He had been watching her since Alfred and the two robbers went upstairs. It was as if he knew something from her that the others didn't - a dirty secret. No way that was possible. Jenny tucked her head behind Bordeaux's shoulder to avoid the heated gaze of Bozo.
Nina was praying to any god she could think of, couldn't stop crying. She had been warned many times by Dopey to be quiet or she'll receive a bullet. That threat didn't calm down the front desk worker one bit. She screeched as the door slammed upstairs.
Full-hearted laughter, heavy footsteps, and jingled bells echoed in the house. It was believed to be Christmas morning. Happy was finally acting like his face. He and Bob talked about the money and jewelry they found in both bedrooms.
"Whoo-hoo!" Happy fist pumped his tag-team partner in crime. "The boss is going to be happy tonight!"
Jenny's eyelashes fluttered with pinched brows of confusion. Wasn't Happy supposed to be the boss?
"I hope you are pleased with yourselves," Alfred's face was strength and pride, but his voice was nothing but melancholy, especially when he was forced to watch Happy placing a string pearl necklace in his filthy pocket.
"Hell yeah!" Bob stretched his fingers out, dazzling a ring on his pinky glove. "May I ask, ladies, is this too much?" He hopped over the rail, two feet from the ground, hurrying to the hostages to show off his ensemble. A diamond shape, aquamarine gemstone ring with smudges and chipped paint, a year and name thinly engraved on the sides - Kathryn Knightly, Class of 1999.
"That's Kathy's ring!" Jenny protested. It took everything out of her not to stand up. Luckily, Bordeaux grabbed her shoulders for precaution.
"Shut up!" Dopey snapped, withdrawing his hand. "If your sister was attached to it, she would've weared it." He loomed over Jenny's figure who instantly leaned back with Bordeaux's protective arms around her.
"What are you doing?" Bordeaux demanded.
Jenny yelped in shocked when Dopey snatched her hand that contained the same class ring only in a different shade of blue - sapphire - and cleanliness. Jenny did receive her ring last Christmas.
"You know... I think yours is more attractive than this one."
An idea of how to get Kathy's ring lit the teen's brain.
"You want it?" She offered, stretching her fingers out to give the man better access. "We'll trade. My ring for my sister's."
Dopey tilted his head as if he was considering her proposal. She noticed the colored blue eyes switching between her ring and Kathy's. Making a decision he swiped the ring from her index finger. She expected him to give her Kathy's ring. Unfortunately, criminals don't play fair. He stuck the ring in the same pinky.
"Thanks!" He laughed, joining his peers.
Jenny squeezed her eyes, trying her best not to cry. She was happy to receive Bordeaux's surprisingly soothing comfort.
"Alright, old man. What else does Wayne got?" Happy asked the butler. They, Dopey, and Bob stand the center of the living, close to the electric fireplace and Wayne portrait.
"I'm afraid that's all we have," Alfred said with mocking regret. "Master Wayne's valuables are safely stored in different boxes in one of three different countries."
Bob scoffed. "Man, you weren't shitting when you said he's paranoid."
"Can you blame him?"
The old man wasn't wrong.
"Do you think we could get away with the TV?" Dopey wondered, admiring the HD. Men would dream to have this in their man cave. The TV was currently viewing the Ghost Whisper. Once again, Jenny missed Big Brother.
"Maybe you got something behind this picture," Bob eyed the Wayne portrait, reaching his tippy toes to grab the bottom edges. One jump and lift, then the top framing swung down, knocking Bob's head. If guns and criminal activity weren't involved, everyone would've been laughing at Bob's embarrassing moment. Fortunately, he didn't land on the glass table.
"Get your ass up!" Happy barked, aiming his gun at stumbling Bobby who was currently crawling out from under the torn portrait.
With all four robbers attention on the butler and Bob's stupidity, Bordeaux whispered Nina to grab the gun from teh table and hand it to her. The front desk was hesitant, but the fierce woman hissed at the woman's ear, declaring that there was no other way.
Taking a double glance at the robbers to make sure no one was looking, Nina leaped from her seat and squatted by the table to reach the gun that was crept by the back, right leg of the table. Unfortunately, her heavy breathing and heels caught the attention.
"Hey!" Dopey rushed over, grabbed Nina's chin-length bob in a tight fist. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Nothing! Nothing!" Nina pleaded. "I'm sorry!"
"Do you think we're stupid?!" Bob barked, finally up on his feet, regaining his composure. "Huh?!"
"Please, don't! Please!" Her puffy red eyes pleaded the masked clown for mercy as she was shoved back on the couch with her companions.
"We gave y'all a chance to live, and you just fucked it up!" Happy pulled the safety of the gun back, aiming at the women.
Alfred stepped forward to be the shield only to be shoved against the glass window by the fireplace. Fortunately, the glass didn't crack by the weight and pressure. He should be looking at Bob's gun aiming at him, but his eyes drifted to the fire poker stand with different types of poker heads attached. Why Bruce Wayne bothered to have that when the penthouse came with an electric fireplace? Alfred would never know.
The girls huddled close, specifically Bordeaux shoved the two women behind her, becoming the shield. Her job was to protect people. She must die, knowing that she did everything to protect the ones she cared for. She refused to let her own boss down - Bruce Wayne.
"Sa-yo-nara, bitch!" Happy declared, ushering Dopey to begin the execution.
With a second of hesitation and shaky hands, a slight tilt of his head away from the soon-to-be-bloody scene, he pulled the trigger.
The girls screamed, bracing for the pain and ringing bullets that never came. The robbers were staring at the gun, wondering why there was no death or smell of blood. Confused, Dopey looked at his hostages and pulled the trigger again... then again... and again.
"What the hell?" Bob wondered.
"What's the holdup?!" Happy demanded.
Dopey opened the magazine to see that no bullets were stored inside. "What the hell?!" He whirled around to face his buddies, showing off the empty case. He wasn't the only one.
Happy, too, checked his gun to see he was ammo-less. The widened eyes of his hostages showed they were just as shocked. Who would break into a house to rob a place and didn't think to load a gun? Someone who didn't mind his men going down either incarcerated or dead. The same one who encouraged his men to shoot each other at the last bank heist, leaving the last one standing to keep the mob money for himself.
"That son of a bitch."
With the robbers now weaponless, Alfred didn't hesitate to make his move. He grabbed one of the fire pokers from the stand and swung, hitting Bob's gun out of his hand. Another swing at the carotid artery, knocking the man out cold. Happy swiftly turned at the noise, turning his gun horizontally as a new weapon. A sword against Alfred's fire poker. A fencing match between the veteran and the robber. Who would win?
Bordeux kicked the gun out of Dopey's hands, sliding down on her butt for the gun under the table. She didn't mind knocking the contents of the table for the weapon.
"Leave!" she screamed at the women on the couch. Nina didn't hesitate and neither did Jenny. Neither couldn't get to the elevator with Bozo blocking their path. Nina kicked off her heels at the clown's direction, swiping the home set phone from the floor. Jenny, too, grabbed something. A table lamp to throw at the clown's direction to buy them time. Unfortunately, the man dodged the obstacle, resuming the chase.
"In here!" Nina pulled Jenny inside the kitchen, sliding the door shut and locking it. The girls screamed as the door shook violently, attempting to get inside.
"Call 911!" the teen commanded.
With shaky hands and heaving breaths, Nina dialed the three numbers.
If Jenny was lucky, Kathy caught her message and police were aware of the situation. Hopefully, they'll make it on time; and it won't be like those horror films that gave her nightmares as a preteen. Just in case, she searched through cabinets and drawers for a weapon.
"9-1-1 operator," a male voice greeted on the other line, "do you need - SCREECH!" Nina yelped, pulling the phone back from the sudden scream that rang her ear. She hung up and tried again. There was the same voice, but the scratch noises repeated itself, couldn't comprehend to what the other person was saying.
"What's going on?! What's happening?!" Nina redialed couple with the same results. Jenny didn't pay mind as she pulled out plates, cups, cleaning supplies, and a red bottle of fuel. Stacking each one across the cabinets and oven.
Meanwhile, Alfred was fending off Happy's firearm, ignoring Bordeaux's non-helpful remarks. She needed to focus the task on cuffing the other two scoundrels. She took the first shot at Bozo, who ducked down to the floor, away from the kitchen door towards the couch. Another shot at Dopey on his knee. She demanded Dopey to lay on his stomach with his hands behind his head. Dopey obliged, pleading not to shoot. He was shaking even when Bordeaux withdrew the gun his way.
"I'll rip you to smidgens!" Happy snapped, swinging his gun towards Alfred's head, which the man ducked.
"May I point out that the term - smidgens - is childish elocution, which should have no place even in so poor a vocabulary as yours!" The pointy end of the poker dug into the robber's wrist, drawing out blood, forcing the man to drop his grip. The weight of the gun caused it to fly two feet from the man's hands and onto the floor. Alfred swung again, hitting the robber square in the back, forcing the man onto his stomach.
The butler didn't forget about the jammer Happy stored in his pocket. He bent the robber's arm behind him, pushing it forward enough to dislocated his shoulder. The robber cried and cursed from the agonizing pain. Reaching into his pocket, Alfred set the jammer on the floor and destroyed it with the bloody tipped poker. The second he did that, the alarm beeped throughout the penthouse. Wayne Protection was restored. This time the police should be alerted, properly.
"Good job, Alfred," Bordeaux panted for breath, eyes scanning the room.
"Well, I had not trained in British Intelligence for nothing, Officer." Alfred breathed out with a tired smile across his face. His eyes trained on the weeping man below him. "I do not understand why someone would come here with no armor on them."
Bordeaux asked herself the same question, but glad that it happened or else everyone would've been killed. Her ears perked at shuffling behind her. Her gun quickly aimed at the last man behind the couch. He was crawling toward the elevator. She leaped over the knocked table, pointing her gun, screaming.
"Freeze!"
He continued to shuffle. She fired her third shot on the floor a foot from his head.
"I said freeze!"
Bozo did as she commanded, raising himself slowly upright.
"Put your hands behind your hand!" She ignored the dripping sweat from her forehead. "Slowly!"
He obliged.
"Good, you're smart, unlike your buddies. Now turn around."
He shuffled his knees in tiny steps until he was facing the woman. Alfred tightened his grip around the fire poker, mentally preparing for anything.
"What did you think you guys were doing?" Bordeaux demanded, approaching the suspect though keeping a five-foot distance. "Coming in here. No ammo! For what? Do you really think you could steal from Bruce Wayne and just - what - walk away?!"
"Actually..." Bozo spoke, once again, this time his voice pitched as if he was hitting puberty. "I do."
"With your gun that doesn't have any bullets?!"
Bozo shook his head. "No. No. No. No. No..." he disagreed, staring at the officer intently. No telling what he was thinking underneath that mask. The only sound uttered were the girls' cries and the overpowering alarm system.
"I'll be taking your gun to finish the job," the man spoke with confidence. Bordeaux couldn't help but laugh at that broad statement. Was this some kind of a joke? She had the gun. He was weaponless. How could he possibly take her gun? Jump on her? She had three more bullets in her gun.
That one second of distraction was all it took for the mysterious clown. One minute she was laughing, the next she was gasping. A sharp sensation pierced half her vision, then it was over. Her mouth opened in disbelief. Her entire left eye blacked out. She couldn't see through it, only felt a line of liquid trickling down her cheek. Was it her tears or blood? She immediately clutched the handle, first instinct was to pull it out.
"Miss Bordeaux!" Alfred shook his head, reaching his arm towards her, even though she was far away. He watched in horror as the clown leaped for the woman's gun. It didn't take much of a struggle. Bordeaux was still trying to process how she got stabbed in the first place. Her knees buckled to the tiled floor. Her right eye blinked to see the bozo mask inches away from her face. Her mind returned to reality, realizing that the gun was still at hand. Even when she struggled, it still wasn't enough. The unbearable pain and shock stole her strength away. Her brows rose as she was forced to watch Bozo taking the gun and aiming at the elderly butler. Before Alfred was a foot away, arms pulled back to take the swing, Bordeaux screamed as she watched her own gun going off.
The fourth bullet flew towards the man, piercing it through the abdomen. The wrinkles of his face deepened as his eyes widened and mouth opened. He clutched the injury and stumbled backward, tripping his legs, falling and crashing the coffee table. Glass shattered below him.
"Alfred!" Bordeaux's skull was whacked to the right side. The inner ear was ringing due to the multiple blows, up to the point her entire world fell into darkness. The pain succumbed her.
Bozo approached the other fallen hero who was lying helplessly on the bloody glass and clutching the wound. His eyes trained on the blood that stained the white dressed shirt.
"It seems you need to wash that stain, good sir." His voice deepened, creating a poor imitation of a British lad. "Hope it isn't blood, that would really be difficult to get the stain off." His voice returned to a high pitched nasal, giggling quietly.
"W-Why?" The older man uttered. "Why - Why are you... doing..." He paused to cough, spitting out bloody saliva. "Doing this?"
Bozo didn't respond right away, only to note that one of his trusted men was still breathing.
"Hey, man..." Happy reached his good arm out for Bozo's assistance. "Help me up. I think the old man dislocated my shoulder. That cheeky bastard. Glad you shot him. The boss would be proud."
Bozo huffed, assuring the butler that he'll get back in a minute. He leaped over to Happy's side, holding his gloved hand out for his. Happy breathed out with appreciation, taking the hand, only to see the gun aiming at his face with the other. Before Happy could utter a protest, the fifth shot of Bordeaux's gun was fired.
...
Back in the kitchen, the girls noticed the alarm going off. Didn't Happy claim to have a jammer? Did Alfred or Bordeaux manage to deactivate it? There was only one way to find out. The teen dialed 911 again, ignoring Nina's protest. The short-haired brunette did try calling five times. How could it work for Jenny? Fortunately, it did.
"911 operator," the same male voice echoed from the loudspeaker. Both Jenny and Nina could hear him, crystal clear. Jenny hoped that Nina would be able to talk. Jenny couldn't have the voice to make demands at the moment. Her mind was wondering what was happening outside.
"We received multiple calls from this address. Do you need an ambulance, the fire department, or police?"
"Police!" Nina replied hastily. "We need police!"
"Okay, ma'am. What is your emergency?"
"Please, sir! There are clowns outside!" Jenny cried in a panic with tears falling from her eyes. "Clowns are in the house, trying to kill us! We need help! NOW!"
Shots fired outside, causing the girls to huddle together and scream. Didn't the robbers have ammo in their guns? What happened to Alfred and Bordeaux?
"Ma'am, I heard gunshots. Tell me what's happening."
They screamed at the sound of scraping wood. One look at the door to see a knife sticking through the crack, attempting to break down the lock.
"Holy crap! He's coming in!" Nina screeched, digging her manicured nails in Jenny's forearm, keeping a tight grip without realizing. Her attention and Jenny's were strictly on the door.
"Send someone, please! Please! Please! Please! Please!" Jenny begged, feeling her whole body shake from fear. She whimpered, shaking off the freshly scratched patch in her arm.
"Ma'am, try to stay calm. Help is on the way."
"Calm down?!" Nina screeched furiously.
A man was outside the kitchen door with a knife, trying to stab his way in; and the dispatcher had the nerve to tell them to calm down? What planet did the man live in?
"You said this clown is trying to kill you. Can you lock yourself someplace safe?"
Jenny didn't have time to find a hiding place. She and Nina were locked inside a kitchen that's open space, the clown robbers could easily find them anywhere. All she found in the cabinets that could be useful were a pan cleaner, fuel, and a kitchen knife.
She picked up the knife and pan cleaner, ready to stab or blind the men. Nina snatched the knife from Jenny's grip, wanting a weapon of her own that was sharp and deadly.
Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a bang. Jenny let out a yelp and whirled around to face the door in fear. The teen was oblivious to Nina pulling her closer to the oven. She dropped the phone on the floor, ignoring the soothing comfort of the dispatcher. Nina's elbow accidentally knocked down the fuel bottle, pouring the fuming liquid on the cabinets, the floor, and the stove.
Two pairs of eyes saw Bozo pointing Bordeaux's gun straight at them. The instinct was for the women to run away. Jenny did just that, swinging her arm out of Nina's grip.
The front desk merely stood there and stared with fear in her eyes. She was in the phase of in denial. She didn't want to believe it was happening. Her mind clouded an image of herself back in her desk, online chatting a man that caught her eye. Someone who was wealthy and intelligent. Even if she managed to grasp her current reality, it was too late.
The last bullet fired and the kitchen burst into flames and smoke.
BOOM!
~000~000~000~
Bruce hit the steering, cursing out the packed traffic in Walnut Street. The pair sped from Uptown down to Midtown through the connection of Starp Bridge.
Bruce's phone was buzzing non-stop. It seemed that Wayne Protection was back online, alerting him all sorts of disturbances. Multiple gunshots fired in the living area, and tampering on his special safe at the west wing of his bedroom. No doubt there was a robbery in progress. How he didn't get the messages sooner was the major question.
"What's happening? What's happening?!" Kathy's eyes averted in between the road and Bruce's phone. He was driving while checking the news feed. The police were on high alert of the clown hostage situation. Whether they were going to make it through this traffic was their concern.
Bruce's phone buzzed once more. What he read nearly had him slip his grip on the mobile device.
"What's going on?" Kathy asked. "What happened with Jenny?!"
Bruce's mouth was agape, couldn't find the words to say them out loud. Kathy decided to read them herself by snatching his phone. Her eyes scrolled to the top, reading the most recent alert from Wayne Protection.
GAS EXPLOSION IN KITCHEN. FIRE DEPARTMENT HAS BEEN ALERTED. LOCATION REQUIRES EVACUATION.
The kitchen exploded? Did everyone make it out? Had her sister been burned alive? The thought shook her to the core. Her right shoulder banged against the window, before swiftly jerking to the left, hitting her forearm on the console. She realized the car was moving, but not with the traffic. He was driving the curb.
"What are you doing?"
It was indeed a stupid question to ask, but the woman never thought he would actually pull off the crazy. Though, desperate times called for desperate measures, despite the cost of tickets. They needed to go home, but little did they know that it was too little, too late.
~000~000~000~
Jenny opened her eyes, seeing nothing but a cloudy blur of smoke. The stench of gasoline and campfire hit her nose, constricting her oxygen. She didn't want to move. She just wanted to lay there and sleep. Her gaze shifted to the upper left, catching a glimpse of orange. She forced her body onto her back to catch a bigger picture, a better motivation to move. Flames crackled in the kitchen. The ceiling opened a hole the size of planet Pluto, revealing the night sky. What happened wasn't a dream. She needed to get out for safety.
She winced and cringed at every shift of her bruised muscles and scraped skin. Not having the strength to stand, she crawled on her hands and knees away from the burning stove and counter. She shook her hands every few seconds from the contact of broken glass.
"Ow! Ah! Ouch!" She forced herself upright, slipping the sweatshirt off her sticky clammy skin, showing off the oversized tank top. She resumed her crawling, using the cloth as her mat. She couldn't stop anymore for her knees. She must leave.
She shuffled around the table close to the open door. The weight brought her head down, the loose frizz sticking between her chapped lips. She spat the strands out, whipping her hair behind her shoulder in one swift motion that earned a pinching jolt throughout her neck down her arm.
"Ugh!" Jenny gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes, waiting for the pain to past. When it did, she opened her eyes about to move. What she saw in the corner of her left eye nearly had her collapsed onto her stomach.
A bare leg sticking out from the roof's rubble. Nina's leg. Jenny gasped, hurrying out the kitchen and into the living room. Specks of flames slowly spread. The walls behind her, the shorter couch, and broken glass from the first window from the left. Fortunately, nobody was buried or cremated.
"Sasha!" Jenny called, nearly collapsing on top of the officer. "Sasha!"
Bordeaux remained silent. Her permed hair was blocking the right side of her face away from Jenny's view. The blood pooling from the skull and staining the floor heightened the girl's concern to turn the head her way.
Jenny widened her eyes and pushed herself back, horrified at Bordeaux's gruesome amputation. Blood wasn't just spilling from the gash on Bordeaux's temple, but the socket that's missing an eyeball.
"Sasha! God! The fuck, Sasha?! Who - W-W-WHA..." Every hyperventilating breath she took shortened it. Her mind was spacing out, the ringing in her left ear escalated. The tears dried her cheeks. She didn't see the three robbers and Alfred's lifeless bodies for the long couch was blocking the view. If she did see them, she would only presume them to do be dead. Just like Sasha. Her hooded eyes raised at the flashing colors outside the cracked windows. Red, blue, and white. A helicopter was passing by shining its light her way. Help had come. All she could at this moment was to bring the help here. She couldn't do anything for these people in the room. She had to go. That's what her bodyguard would want. That's what Alfred would want. That's what her sister would want.
"Kat... I'm coming," She repeated the words as she continued to crawl her only route for escape. When Jenny came close, her long fingers reached for the down button. She's going to be fine once she reached downstairs. The clowns will get arrested. Sasha and Alfred will be taken care off. Jenny will be checked out with her scraping knees and hands, pinched nerve, and ringing ear - all's well that end's well.
The elevator door opened, forcing Jenny to breathe out with relief. She was saved.
Before she could crawl inside, a tight grip wrapped around her ankle. She gasped and turned her body to face her attacker. Bozo the clown. Half his face was fried from the explosion, and his clothes covered in ashes and rubble. He yanked her leg closer to him, forcing Jenny on her back.
"No!" Jenny huffed and struggled her ankle in circles, attempting to break free of his grasp. "What are you doing?! We got to go!" She screamed as he climbed on top of her. Her first instinct was to throw punches and slaps, meeting his blocks. His gloved fingers wrapped around her wrists, pinning them on the floor.
Jenny wasn't staying here with this crazy for another minute. Her mind flashed back in training when her coach pinned her this way.
"Knightly, come on! Remember the drill! Snow angel! Snow angel!"
The Snow Angel drill. It required lifting her hips and sliding her arms down instead of pushing them up. Her hips raised high, forcing her assailant to fall forward slightly. All the weight on her wrists. Her pinned wrists pulled down, his face landing the tile floor. Once her hands were free, she wrapped her arms around Bozo's waist, trapping her left leg over his calf, her left elbow around his, flipping them both over. Jenny leaned back, shuffling enough space for her foot to thrust the space between his legs as hard as she could.
"GET BACK!"
He fell back, clutching his special place. He should be screaming, but what he did was something that Jenny didn't expect from a man in pain - laughter. He laughed like a hyena. He was laughing so loud, the neighbors below should hear him.
This scene caught Jenny off guard. What's so funny? He should be cursing, not laughing. Panting for breath, she forced herself on her feet, stumbling back to the closed elevator. She repeatedly hit the button, while checking her attacker. He was slowly regaining composure.
"Come on! Come on! Come on! FUCKING OPEN! COME ON!"
A brief wind past her face then a bang uttered the wall beside her. She whipped her back against the wall and screamed at what stuck to the wall. A small, bloody knife but that wasn't all. An eyeball staring at her, showing off its brown iris. Bordeaux's iris.
Her mouth opened, gasping for breath in disbelief. A faint shuffle perked her right ear. She gazed down to where Bozo originally lied, only the mask was in place.
"Oh no, no, no."
Finally, she was face to face to what was hidden under the mask. Her heart nearly stopped, her breath paused in mid-inhale. Her mind was buzzing as well as her left ear. She was imagining this. No way she was seeing another clown under the clown mask. No way this was him. The escaped mental patient that had been on the news for a while. The reason why the Knightly family required bodyguards.
"Sweetie, everyone knows that the audience must never leave before the show-ah ends! We are..." he spread his arms out in dramatic fashion, "tonight's entertainment!" He took the time to lick his scared lips, staring down at her trembling figure with his heated gaze. Jenny took note of the change of voice. It wasn't rough like before, it was more... nasally? Was this robber a kid hitting puberty or something?
"Stay away from me! Please, don't come closer!" She begged with teary eyes, raising a defensive hand in front of the clown. "Please! Whatever it is you want, you can have it. Just don't hurt me."
Her plead reached deaf ears as he took another step forward, dragging his back foot.
"L-Look," Jenny began in a shaky tone, "whatever it is you w-want, I-I'll get it for you. J-Just d-don't hurt anybody. Please."
Finally, he uttered something - specifically a giggle, the kind that coated her skin with goosebumps.
"Well, dollface..." he began, "that's just what I'm counting on. It is indeed paying time."
The ping of the elevator bell perked the girl's attention. She pulled the blood coated knife from the wall and rushed inside the elevator, tripping in the process, grasping the rail for support. Meanwhile, the eyeball slid from the blade and bounced slightly to the floor, until it was squashed by the clown's foot. He hurried inside, not bothered by the threats and weapon in her hand.
The doors closed, blocking the action about to come. The hoarse screams, bangs, and screeching scratches uttered inside left to the imagination of the sleeping bodies in the living room.
~000~000~000~
Bruce and Kathy arrived at the penthouse. Once they got there, there were police cars, ambulances, fire trucks. Blazing flames erupted on the rooftop like a burning candle. What happened at the penthouse? Was Jenny hurt? Did she set the house on fire?
"Sugar!" Kathy cursed, she and Bruce jumped out of the car and hurried inside. They were fighting the unwanted crowd, blocking the entrance. Their demands reached deaf ears, while they ignored the debate whether Bruce Wayne had another drunk birthday night to himself. The police, blocking the entrance, refused to let anyone in, only the fire department, officers, and paramedics. They hurried to the standing middle-aged officer by his squad car. Blonde hair with grey tips peeking from under his cap.
"Officer, what's happened?!" Kathy demanded.
"Ma'am, you need to step back."
"Sir-"
"This is an ongoing investigation. I can't comment for your little newspaper, now."
"I'm not a reporter!" Kathy barked, completely offended.
"Officer, I am Bruce Wayne, the owner of the penthouse on top." Bruce pointed at the flickering flames. "I demand information regarding the people inside and the damages."
The officer's face slackened at the revelation. "You're Bruce Wayne? You own that?" He pointed at the fire that's slowly dousing down, assuming the firefighters were up there to do their job.
"Yes!"
Green eyes rolled at that statement, quietly cursing himself. He prayed that this wasn't indeed another birthday night gone wrong.
He radioed his information to his high-rank boss - a Detective Ramirez. She passed the word to Gordon, then radioed back that the fire was out, bodies were rolling out, and the investigation had begun.
"Rolling out? Rolling out where?!" Kathy asked.
"Have you seen the front, lady?" The officer gestured the crowd blocking the entrance. "What do you think?"
The couple didn't hesitate running back to their car, going around the back entrance in the garage parking lot.
"What is happening?" Kathy exclaimed the questions just for the heck of it, knowing that the Batman didn't have the answers she wanted. "Where's Jenny?! What happened to my sister?!"
Bruce hit the break as they reached the second floor of the parking garage, seeing two ambulances parked near the two elevators. The golden doors opened revealing paramedics rolling two gurneys. The couple rushed out the Lamborghini, not bothering to take the keys in the ignition or close the car doors.
"What's going on? Who are..." Bruce trailed off to catch a closer glimpse at who was lying on the gurneys. One was an unmasked clown - black male in this early thirties, breathing into an oxygen tank. A bandage wrapped around his neck, blood welling through the white on the right side. His carotid artery may have been slashed. Another one was a white male reaching his late seventies. One nurse was pressing the gunshot wound in the abdomen. A neck brace forced his head to remain still. Bruce recognized him immediately.
"Alfred!" Bruce rushed towards him, taking hold of the gurney rail, demanding answers.
"Sir, you need to move," a paramedic commanded.
"Is he going to be okay?!" Bruce asked the paramedic, "Tell me! What happened? Is he going to be okay?!" His eyes never left his butler's. The old man's eyes were hooded, fighting to remain open.
"Master Bruce-"
"Sir, he has been shot," the same paramedic explained. "There's no telling how many vital organs it hit. We need to take him to the hospital now! So move!"
Kathy pulled Bruce away from the gurney, freeing the paramedics to move.
The only thing they heard from Alfred was him calling Bruce's name.
"Master Bruce... Master..."
"Hang in there, Alfred! You'll be alright!" Bruce cried to his butler before he disappeared in the ambulance. Two more came out from the elevator. Female breathing into an oxygen mask, bandage around her head and gauze stuck in her left socket.
"Bordeaux!"
The woman remained unresponsive. The paramedic explained that she inhaled the fumes too long. She needed immediate treatment at Gotham General. Bruce allowed them to take her, but not the man partially responsible for the trouble upstairs, what happened with Alfred. The other gurney that WAS rolling another male out. His Dopey mask resting on his foot. He was the robber who got blown to the kneecap, bandaged and bent. Tears were dripping down his chubby face. He thought he knew pain. The shot in the kneecap and incarceration was just the beginning of hell. Bruce grasped the end of the gurney, stopping the tracks. He ignored another paramedic's protest, forcing Dopey down by a hand to the throat.
The red-faced man choked, widening his eyes at Bruce. The billionaire's eyes darkened at the false innocence before him.
"What happened? What were you doing up there?"
"Cck-please!" Dopey coughed, struggling to escape the domination. The cuffs from the rails around his wrists didn't give him an advantage. Kathy was watching the other side, keeping her distance. She needed to know. What happened with Jenny? Were the paramedics going to take her out through the elevator too?
"I swear... We were... ccck!"
"Sir," The female, blonde paramedic stepped in to protest, but Kathy's voice stopped her from uttering another word.
"Ma'am, my sister was up there!"
"What did you do? To Alfred? Jenny?!"
"We were only robbing the place! I swear!" His eyes adverted all around as if to make sure his haunting wasn't around. "I didn't know he was going to be here."
"Who?!" Bruce pressed, tightening his grip around Dopey's throat.
"He emptied our guns. He slashed the throats on the guys downstairs-"
"What guys?!"
The jingled of his cuffed wrists, perked everyone's attention. He was pointing at something. A black van nestled in the shadows, away from the parked cars, few yards from the ambulances.
Kathy immediately hurried to the scene, ignoring Bruce's commands to wait. Knowing that he couldn't control two people, he allowed the paramedics to take Dopey away. He followed Kathy, grasping her shoulders to keep her from going further.
"Wait, Nancy. Let me look inside first."
Kathy's eyes watered, looking straight at the van and not Bruce. She was shaking, not knowing what had happened to her sister. Why wasn't her sister coming out with more paramedics yet? What happened upstairs?
Bruce released her, accepting a sign that she would agree to let him look. He cautiously approached the vehicle, peeking through the front windows.
"You see anyone?" Kathy asked.
"No," Bruce replied, "but the keys are in the ignition and the radio is on."
Kathy furrowed her brows, closing her eyes to focus on the quiet music echoing inside the abandoned vehicle.
"Welcome to the jungle it gets worse here every day. Ya learn to live like an animal in the jungle where we play..."
He walked around towards the pack with the windows painted black, couldn't see what's inside. He pulled the handle to the back door, but it was locked. He returned to the driver side, removing his jacket and wrapping it around his right forearm as protection from cuts. He slammed his muscles against the window. Two tries for it to break in pieces. He reached inside to unlock the doors.
"In the jungle, welcome to the jungle
Watch it bring you to your knnn-knne-knees, knees
I want to watch you bleed..."
Kathy covered her mouth, muffling the gasp. She was horrified to see what was behind the double doors.
Bodies. Four bodies slashed from ear to ear, creating smiles. That's not what killed them. It was the knife across their throats that did it. All four dressed in suits with party hats on their heads, white makeup on faces, black coal for eyes, and red bloody lips.
Her mind flashed the image of his face at Arkham. The way the dark coals were gazing at her.
"And when you're high you never ever want to come down
So down, so down, so down, yeah..."
"W-Who are they, Bruce?" Kathy approached the vehicle to get a closer look, ignoring the butterflies in the stomach that almost made her puke.
"Group one. They were supposed to pick Alfred and Jenny up to the skating rink." He raised his foot on the ledge about to climb inside.
"Wait!" Kathy grasped his white shirt in protest. "Shouldn't we wait for Gordon?"
"He would normally let Batman scan the area for clues before him." He returned his search with or without Kathy's permission. Luckily, she stepped out and let him figure out what happened inside. It wasn't who the bodies were or the cause of death. That was easily figured out. Dopey acknowledged that he had no idea that he was there.
They knew the he that Dopey referred to.
"You know where you are?
You're down in the jungle baby..."
Why would he take his sweet time setting this whole get up inside? Was he creating a message? Wasn't the exploding penthouse messaged enough? What did he plan on stealing?
He noticed a Joker card planted on each body, attached to a suit pocket.
"I need gloves," Bruce stated.
Kathy hurried to the vehicle, finding anything that would help Bruce's search. The last thing she wanted was Bruce to be called out for searching without authorization. She opened a glove compartment to see the registration and insurance for the vehicle, interior cleaning wipes, and a R.E.C. stun gun. She opened the jar of wipes, snapping the square off its hold.
Kathy returned to Bruce, handing the wipe for him. "Here you go."
"Watch it bring you to your knees, knees
In the jungle welcome to the jungle
Feel my, my, my serpentine..."
Carefully, Bruce covered his thumb and forefinger with the cloth and pinched the first individual card from that slumped body near the edge. He tried not to move the body too much for the guard might fall off his seat. He slowly raised the card that revealed a printed message on the right side by the joker picture - a letter.
I
The second card, a second body, one word.
WON'T
A third body, third card, another word.
BE
The final body, final card, final word.
IGNORED
"I won't be ignored," Bruce pieced the message together from all four cards.
Kathy's mind flashed at the familiar painted words in the monitor, located inside her old bedroom apartment.
"I WON'T BE IGNORED."
She could easily put his voice in the warning. The laughter that forced to cover her ears. No matter the pressure, the voices were still present including her own worst enemy.
"Your fears are taking over again. It won't be long now before the darkness takes over with it."
He kept saying that, yet she still remembered her name and morals. She blinked her eyes open, finding Bruce single-handedly picking up the cards in one stack.
~000~000~000~
A swarm of policemen was investigating the scene, while the fire department was leaving the penthouse kitchen, after dousing the flame.
"Lieutenant Gordon," Chief Underhill from FDGC approached the man, shaking his hand. "We got the fire all taken care of."
"What happened?" The officer asked.
"There has been a gas explosion in the kitchen. There were no lose pipes or leaks. Fuel bottle was spilled, though..." He gestured his associate beside him, who held up a plastic bag with the burned up red bottle of fuel.
"Cooking school gone wrong?" Ramirez suggested lightly.
Underhill shook his head. "We scanned the appliance and saw that the oven was switched off."
"So no leaks, the stove wasn't lit. What caused it to explode?"
Underhill's associate switched bags, behind the bag with the fuel bottle was another bag with a single bullet inside. Gordon took the bag from the associate to get a closer look. He couldn't tell the type it was due to the burned marks and melted end. At least, they knew what caused the explosion. He handed the bag to Ramirez.
"Give this to forensics."
The female detective nodded, retreating the men to follow her boss's command. The associate walked away as well. Now it was just Gordon and the fire chief, the officer's eyes were at the kitchen door and walls covered in scorch marks.
"Is it safe to go in?"
The chief's face contorted, not liking the idea of anyone going in after the fire had been defused. He understood it's part of an ongoing investigation, but he preferred the detectives alive to do it.
"Not if you are wearing an oxygen tank. There is still fumes inside that could kill you. What I can say, Lieutenant, is that there were no survivors."
"How many?"
"One. A young lady. If the smoke or explosion didn't kill her, the rubble from the roof that buried her alive did." Underhill stepped back, raising his hands up. "I'm no officer, but I'm just taking a wild guess."
Gordon nodded, "How long till we're ready."
"I would say when the smoke is lost in the fresh air and sky. My rule is, at least, eight hours."
"Gordon!"
The head detective perked at his partner's call. He turned to see Ramirez and a man in uniform walking with her. He wasn't a part of MCU, but a guard for this building.
"This is Ryan from the head of security." Ramirez introduced the young, red-head man in his late twenties. He shook the respected man with a shy smile across his face.
"Lieutenant Gordon. What a pleasure." Ryan greeted.
"I wish it was in better circumstances." Gordon retreated the hand, asking the young man what he's got.
...
Ryan led Gordon and Ramirez downstairs into the security room, introducing his beer-belly buddy Marco who turned out to be the head of security. Ryan's head bowed, no doubt his cheeks matched his hair in shame. Alongside Marco was Gordon's old partners from GCPD - wisecracking Bullock and his attractive blonde 'playmate' Sarah Essen.
Despite the stakes, Gordon couldn't help but greet the partnered detectives.
"Good to see ya, Jim." Bullock patted the lieutenant on the shoulder. "Just to be clear, I have no hard feelings with you ditching me for Flass. I am doing just fine without you - way fine." His shifting eyes gestured the blonde behind.
Sarah Essen rolled her eyes, not bothering to call out what her partner meant.
"Believe me, Harvey," Gordon released his hand. "If it was up to me and not Loeb, I will choose you in a heartbeat."
"Nay, don't go mushy, my friend. I have the goods, you on the other hand..." Bullock's eyes glanced at Ramirez's way. She blinked, averting the man's gaze, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Yeah, you need work. Then again, we both know how big a douchebag Loeb is for breakups."
"Harvey!" Sarah scolded.
Ramirez widened her eyes at the older cop's big talk. Why he's still working at GCPD? Why Gordon remained friends with him? Ramirez would never know.
"What?" Bullock offered his partner a look as if she was dumb. "He isn't going to say anything. We ain't snitches. Right, Jimmy, my old time friend?" Bullock patted his former partner once more, wrapping an arm around the shoulder.
Instead of answering that question, Gordon swayed his body away from Bullock, returning the task at hand.
"What do we got?"
"Well, since we arrived," Sarah began. "We immediately started the investigation with the cameras. Get a visual of what happened."
Bullock chuckled, gesturing myself. "We? I remembered it being my idea. It beats trying to piece everything together with theories, hypothesis-"
"Anyway!" Sarah hissed, attempting to continue without interruption. Unfortunately, it was Gordon's turn.
"There were cameras in Bruce Wayne's penthouse. Can you upload those?"
Sarah shook her head, "No, we tried."
"Bruce Wayne likes his privacy, wanted to follow his own security protocols," Ryan explained. "That's why he installed Wayne protection cameras inside. But he did the same everywhere else in the building, just different rules. Bruce Wayne is paranoid. It's not like anyone would watch him shower naked and screwing models."
That comment earned looks that made him flushed red again. He needed to think before he spoke. Bruce Wayne was one of the hottest, billionaire playboys in America. Who wouldn't want to watch him change clothes?
"Actually, I don't," Bullock snapped, "but I appreciate the porn imagery."
"So instead of getting visual inside," Sarah's voice pitched, daring anyone to interrupt her again. "We have Officer Forbes rewind the cameras outside Wayne's penthouse, back to the time stamp of 9:27."
Ryan turned the dial counter-clockwise, rewinding the footage back. Nina the front desk working, three men entered the building, until the screen rattled, white lines across the screen, creating static noises.
"What am I supposed to see?" Gordon wondered.
"I suppose the men coming inside didn't want us to see them. Whoever these guys are, they have some kind of jammer, the second they entered the building."
The destroyed walkie-talkie in Happy's person. That was the jammer.
Ryan rewinds it back again to get the unsubs coming to the door. Marco zoomed in on their faces. All three wore clown masks - Dopey, Chuckles, and Happy. Same ones used for the previous bank robberies.
"Someone call Ronald McDonald because these guys are doing more than just stealing Bruce Wayne's doe," Bullock retorted, unscrewing the lid from his flask. The female detectives adverted their gazes from Bullock's repulsive act and tried to block out his loud gulps.
"One is dead, the other two were taken to Gotham General," Ramirez explained.
Gordon blinked, recalling one mask on the floor. He stepped forward to the masked men weren't present.
"There were four."
"What?" Sarah faced the lieutenant in disbelief. "What do you mean?" She faced the footage again, counting three.
"There were four," Gordon repeated.
"Jim, I don't know if you really passed kindergarten or need your glasses checked," Bullock gulped another sip of beer, "but I see three. One." He counted the men by tapping the screen. "Two. Three."
"How do you know?" Sarah wondered.
"I saw a mask that's different from the others," Gordon explained. "The one witnesses claimed he was wearing at Gotham National Bank."
Bullock nearly choked his drink, coughing out in disbelief. "I'm sorry..." He paused, clearing his throat. "He? As in you-know-mister-mouth?"
"Did you pick up any footage at all?"
"We thought it to be a power outage," Marco explained, "until we heard the explosion. That's when we received the alert."
"Then fast forward to when that occurred."
Marco did just that. The videos were crystal at 9:54 PM.
Nina the front desk was missing. No doubt they had taken her hostage upstairs. Ryan noticed the girl no longer in view, demanding her location. The questions remained unanswered as Marco continued to fast forward. Everyone scanned their eyes all screens to see anything out of the ordinary during the evacuation. Before everyone walked down the stairs to both exits, someone beat everyone to it through the elevator. The second elevator opened to the back entrance in the parking garage.
"Freeze!" Gordon commanded. Marco immediately obliged. In slow motion, a matching hoodie and sweatpants robber was holding something. He didn't carry a duffle bag or a large TV screen. He was carrying someone over his shoulder. A white van pulled up just in time as if it was waiting for him.
"Who is that?" Ramirez wondered.
Marco zoomed at the face, nearly pooped his pants at the sight. Ryan let out a horrific scream, locking the door and leaning his weight against it for precaution.
"Holy shit," Bullock cursed.
For the second time in weeks, Gotham City had a visual of the escaped patient in Arkham. The clown who mysteriously disappeared without a trace. The white-skin, coaled eye, scar-face joker was here. The second set of hostages upstairs were there to witness him up close and personal.
The van door slid opened, but before he and his guest could leave, he wanted to take a moment with the security camera. He slid the girl down from his shoulder and forced her to turn. They got the face of a hostage. A young lady with long hair dressed in a tank top and sweat pants.
"My god," Gordon uttered.
He couldn't help but watch the clown holding the girl like a rag doll. He was smiling and waving at the camera. The girl was unconscious, so he grabbed her wrist and waved for her. His gloved fingers stuck inside her mouth, forcing her to smile. The image nearly had Bullock puking.
"I want their faces on every newspaper and tv stations. I want to know who this girl is and where he has taken her!" Gordon commanded. His heart nearly stopped as he watched him throw the girl in the van before he leaped inside. The van didn't close all the way as the vehicle sped past another black van, crashing its mirror.
"I want the van's license plate. I want to see the traffic cameras following that van! I want to see where he had taken her!" Gordon's commanding tone turned more frantic. "Alert Loeb and tell him that we have a situation. John Doe has taken a hostage. I repeat John Doe has taken a young lady hostage."
Ramirez and Sarah pulled out their phones to call the right people. Marco went straight to work with blowing up the footage he was forced to witness. Ryan was blocking Bullock's way out, refusing to unlock the door.
Gordon's eyes glistened as the footage rewind and zoomed in on the girl and his face.
John Doe's face.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. We will find you."
~000~000~000~
"Watch it bring you to your knees, knees
In the jungle welcome to the jungle..."
"Bruce, we really need to leave that alone for Gordon," Kathy spoke.
"We need to get his fingerprints," Bruce argued. "I want him first."
"Bruce, it doesn't matter what you want! We need to be smart about this! I'm sorry about Alfred, but if he were-"
"Nancy, enough!"
"Watch it bring you to you
Its gonna bring you down, ha!"
The bark ordered closed her lips shut. Did he really just told her to shut up? Silence evolved the area with one exception. Kathy caught on quiet beeps. She furrowed her brows, attempting to figure out where it came from.
"Do you hear that?"
Bruce finally listened to Kathy, hearing the slow steady beeping as well. It was louder towards the front. The car radio. His eyes narrowed to see the radio light on. It didn't show the radio frequency, but a number... slowly counting down to zero. That's when it clicked, it wasn't a radio, but a bomb.
"GET DOWN!" Bruce leaped off the van and grabbed Kathy with him. She squealed in shock by the sudden action. They crashed onto the concrete road before the van blew up in flames. The second explosion in one night. The evidence wasn't the only thing burning. Decks of cards scattered all over. With blurry vision, Bruce could make out one in view, before he passed out.
The Joker card that had another written message in red paint.
HA! HA! HA!
A/N: Finally! Some real action in this really long chapter as promised. So the Joker kidnapped Jenny. Alfred is hospitalized. Bordeaux could be blind. Bruce is kitchen-less, although that won't stop the billionaire. No doubt Kathy will do whatever it takes to find Jenny, and probably team up the Batman to do it. Wouldn't the Crane fans love that?
So I added a few additional characters to the story - Detective Bullock and Sarah Essen. I hope you enjoyed their presence in this chapter. I pictured James Woods as Bullock, due to his wise crack jokes and sarcasm, and Elizabeth Mitchell as Sarah Essen due to her sophistication and serious presence that could balance out Bullock's. Also to those who didn't know yet, I re-casted the Riddler, again. Check out Chapter 7: Show You Hostile, specifically the author's note at the bottom to see my reasons for this change... again. For those who don't feel like going back, I'll just tell you the new pick...
It is Ryan Eggold from the Blacklist and New Amsterdam. My riddler visual of him is created on DeviantArt. Check it out and tell me what you think of him as Edward Nygma.
Thank you, all for your patience. Readers who took the time to read and add this story to your favorite or alert list - thank you! You guys rock!
PS: I uploaded the trailer for this fanfic now available on YouTube. The old video got blocked due to song choice, but I made sure that it won't happen again this time. I wish I switched out Jude Law's face with Ryan's at the ending, but oh well. Hope you enjoy.