Damage Control
Compton sat, fingers flipping thru the text messages he had accumulated in the last three hours. His expression was grim as he mentally totted up the swing those emails and texts represented, and he saw ruin. Where the hell is he...? Compton muttered to himself. He wasn't even sure why he was there, his course of action - and likely life - were pretty much determined at this point. Forlorn pride and professionalism, he supposed...
The door opened, and Rumpole breezed past into his office. The son of a bitch is smiling! "Martin, come in. We have to work on the spin."
Even if he had gone straight home, Compton couldn't have washed his hands of this, he knew. The one thing he'd warned Rumpole about, not to go against the Bat, and not only had he done that, he'd managed to piss off the entire GCPD.
Rumpole looked up. "Didn't you hear me, Martin? Get in here! I've got proof Batman has people inside GCPD!"
Try as Compton might, he could not think of a spin, a sleight of word, anything, that could save Rumpole now. And that meant the whole thing was worthless to Moroni. Well over a mil in under-the-table indirect support, plus the legit, the years of work... Moroni was going to want blood.
Rumpole wasn't paying attention to his face, he was shuffling through a sheaf of photos. "Take a look at this!"
"You - ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? What, before God and the Thrones below combined, were you thinking? You have proof the Bat and the GCPD are working together? EVERY BUM IN THE CITY KNOWS THAT! You served a fucking precinct!"
Rumpole merely shook his head. "When they attacked the van with the Joker in it, I knew, I KNEW, that someone inside Gotham PD was in on it. The only people who knew which van was carrying him, and which route they would take, was in this office, and the Police Department. So someone inside tried to kill him." He tossed a paper across the table. "And again yesterday when they almost leveled a building to try to 'capture' him. Some cop tried to kill him, twice."
Compton tried again to breach the walls of lunacy. "Your biggest support group was the goddamn police union!"
Rumpole nodded, "They'll jump back on the bandwagon when I prove one of theirs was the shooter. They hate crooked cops more than I do."
Compton shook his head. "The papers are already printing tomorrow's stories! Do you have the faintest idea how they're going to rape you tomorrow? You're done! DONE! The fucking Joker has killed over a dozen cops in his time! The only reason he's made it to Arkham every time he was captured is because the FUCKING BAT KNEW THEY HAD HIM!"
"Martin, think. They're doing all this defensive shit because they think I'm picking on them. But the property room of that precinct is missing an RPG launcher and a rocket. The same precinct sent in the SWAT team to catch him, and they used almost twice the explosives they needed. I'm having a list of everyone who had access to that property room. I'll find who fired that shot."
Compton's voice was hoarse. "You've lost your mind. I quit. I quit this morning, before you did this - protest of what you were doing - I only hope -" He stopped himself just in time. He grabbed his laptop and the burn box, and stormed out.
"If you want to bug out, go right ahead. When the press and the police find out that one of their own tried to murder not only Joker but three of their own, they'll come begging! And so will you!" Rumpole screamed at his back.
His only answer was the slam of the door. Rumpole walked over to his fax machine, taking out the list. Two names were on it. Important names,
Thompson and Sears.
Compton's mind was racing as he headed to his car. This was not his fault -
This is not my fault... he muttered as he drove. What the hell to do? Useless to run from Moroni unless he fled the country - and his personal assets were not liquid.
His cell phone rang. He ignored it. Compton strode into the neighborhood bar and made his way to his usual table. Finding it empty, he sat and waved the girl - Gladys, that was her name - "Scotch, darlin... gimme the bottle, eh? Oh, an'a steak, baked potato, an salad, will ya?"
She walked away, then came back with the bottle and a glass. She poured, then wrote down his dinner order. "And for you, Hon?"
"Tacos." Sid slid into the bench seat on the other side of the booth.
Compton took a deep breath - and let it go. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a pair of C-notes on the table. "Pay off my tab, too." Might as well pay off what I can... "Evening, Sid. Am I gonna have time for the steak?" Gladys came back with a Newcastle, took the bills, and left.
Privately, Sid was impressed with the stones the political operator was showing. "Martin, ease down. Mr. Moroni heard what happened, and told me you might come here for a drink."
Compton set his glass down with a reasonably steady hand. "Oh. uh, okay... God. You, you want to take this in the back room?"
"Nah. Nice public place, no one in his right mind would try to whack you here, right?" Sid reached across, patting him on the cheek. "Calm down." He sipped his beer. Seeing Compton not drinking, Sid raised his hand solemnly. "I promise, I did not come here to kill you. All right? So enjoy the drink, eh? Eat your food when it comes. God knows I'm going to enjoy mine."
Compton sighed, understanding he had been reprieved. "That was why I said back room. I don't make a fuss, you make it quick, I heard. But if you don't want the back room, then I guess you're serious." He took a hit of his scotch, and then another. "I had no idea he was going to do anything like that, Sid. I fucking told him not to go against the Bat, that public opinion would not go with him. But not only did he do that, he managed to turn the cops on him too. He's got no blue chips left. I can't salvage this. I don't know what to do. I resigned, effective this morning, but.."
Sid swigged and swallowed. "We'll take care of our friend Rumpole. You just plan on working in Metropolis. One of Mr. Moroni's contacts there needs an idea man for their mayoral candidate."
Compton looked up. "Metropolis? Gotta be that guy Kane. Who do I talk to?"
"Not my job to know, man." Sid drained the bottle. "Where is that bint?" He stood. "Hate to walk over to the bar to get my beer, but I'm dry. I think it's Stovall. David Stovall." He walked toward the bar with the bottle in hand.
Compton looked up as Gladys came with a tray. "Hey, thank you, darlin'! Smells great." He waved off the bills she held out. "Nah, keep the change."
Sid walked back. "She was here?" He shrugged, sitting down with a fresh beer.
"Yeah, right after you left." He indicated Sid's plate. "Those aren't the same peppers as before."
"Well hopefully they're hot enough." He took a spoon, and sampled them. "Not - too bad." He ladled it onto a taco, and inhaled it. "Oh baby!"
Compton cut into his potato, dicing it up before turning his attention to the steak. "I dunno where in Metropolis I'm gonna get a steak like this, man..."
"Eddie's." Sid told him. "Where I always go for my tacos."
Further information
Oracle yawned, pouring her first cup of coffee for the day. After the meeting, she had sent out two dozen Little Brown Bats to scour the tunnels. The programming was actually simple for this. Starting at the last two stations Joker and Harley had used, then a blanket search for single cars on the system.
While it sounded like an impossible order, it wasn't really, using Gotham Metro's own camera system. Installed in the 1970s, it tracked all stations in the Metroplex, so that they could spot people getting on a car at one station, and departing on another. So spotting a single car that did not show up on the rail monitoring system (Which tracked power rather than actual cars) was dead simple. So the two cars were marked. But it might have gone south there if they had not used one station together. The car that Harley had used after dropping off her dress had passed through five stations, The one she used to hit the printers had used three. Joker's after hitting the Salvation Army had only used two.
But both used the Rue Lafayette Station on the far southwest section of the rail system. Named during the First World War, Rue Lafayette was also one of the oldest stations in the system. So the tracking started not at the stations they had departed from, but from Rue Lafayette, limiting the unknown tracks from 5,000 miles, to barely two hundred. So 24 drones charged down the tracks leaving Rue Lafayette in that direction. There was a problem almost immediately; there was another seven hundred miles of track to follow. But it worked in Oracle's favor this one time. Because both led to only one track.
She followed that one track. But then she found something that stopped her. At that point, she notified the others.
Meeting Two
Ivy snapped upright as the Little Brown Bat made a chiming sound. "Ivy, we need Cat Woman here too." Oracle told her.
Selina slid into the room, eyes intent. "I'm here, Oracle."
In different locations, the group clustered around the hologram the drones dubbed the Little Brown Bat, or LBB, were emitting. It was showing a wire diagram map of some of the priciest real estate around Gotham, and superimposed on it was a rat's nest of tunnels in varying hues. One in red struck out from the city and went off the map, and it was this one the group was studying.
"The point at which this tunnel enters the old Blue Line route is here, at Mosquito Junction." Batman's voice was atypically smooth as he relayed Oracle's briefing of an hour earlier. "It is actually named that on the maps due to the flooding in the tunnel and the endemic mosquitoes that bred there year round. Attempts to drain the flooding were never successful. The county simply treated the area once a quarter and left it at that." His voice soured a notch. "No one apparently gave any thought to the fact the tunnel never flooded any deeper despite the weather, or that periodic retreating was necessary."
Ivy's voice was introspective. "The water was slowly circulating."
"Precisely." Batman confirmed. "The entire Blue Line was closed after the discovery of the Verner Discontinuity, and surface track was laid. It became just one more pork barrel WPP project from the thirties."
Catwoman spoke up, no trace of embarrassment in her voice. " 'Verner Discontinuity?' What is that? "
Ivy answered, simply relaying information. "At the level we are talking about, it's a mismatch in the soils; clays versus loams. It's a strong indication of a geological fault line."
Batman resumed. "In the last two days, we have remapped certain areas that were either notional projects in the thirties, or were never completed. The water at Mosquito Junction has drained completely, and a tunnel we never knew about has been cleared."
"How far does it go?" Catwoman asked.
In answer, the map expanded, revealing that the tunnel progressed all the way out to a Federal Reserve. "From 1930 until 1954, that was an Army Air Base. When the Army Air Corps became the US Air Force, the base was officially mothballed. I found strong indications it has been in use clandestinely off and on since the mid sixties. It is in use today. The tunnel goes under the base. More than that I can't say; the drone returned at the point the map shows."
"Returned?" Ivy asked tightly.
Batman nodded. "Returned. It passed the distance we could contact it, and automatically returned. We didn't want to give Joker any warning if that is where he is."
Catwoman spoke up to forestall any unfortunate remarks. "So what's the plan?"
"Follow the tracks in." Batman and Ivy said in unison.
If they had been in the same location. Batman would have looked at Poison Ivy with surprise; Ivy shrugged. "You wouldn't have told us all about it if that wasn't the plan. How do you know the base is in use today?"
"Oracle?" In response to Batman's invitation, the image changed, showing a false-colored flightline and an aircraft turning onto the apron and a fuel truck. "That is a satellite image in real time." Oracle's dispassionate alto sounded as if she was with them - which she was, in a sense. "I also believe it to be highly unlikely that the base has any direct connection to the tunnel."
"Okay, I'll bite, Oracle - why do you believe that?" Catwoman asked with asperity.
"Because the site has a clause in it's occupancy agreement that restricts it from digging more than a hundred feet down. That is also likely what caused the government to close the base; in 1952, the Pentagon set the policy that every general would have his nuclear bomb shelter, and those had to be at least four hundred feet down. Guess who has ultimate title to the land."
Batman spoke without hesitation. "Cobblepott."
"So we go when?" Catwoman asked.
"We go as soon as we have verification that this is the hideout." Batman replied.
A Bad Situation Becomes Worse
The next day, the morning was quiet... very quiet. Harley went down for breakfast, and as always, János curled up beside her. The Boyz were down to six, which meant twelve hour shifts and no time off - which was why Rocco jumped at the chance to go get the dress, and get newspapers to see what the reaction was to the ransom demand. Harley led the boys into the back yard, and introduced them to Bud and Lou. Once they had, they found the hyenas were just as willing to chase a thrown stick as a dog would be, though when they got excited, the croquet mallet handles they were throwing would end up in pieces, or barely hanging together from where their jaws snapped down on them.
She was happy for the Archbishop's bodyguards now. Watching the gang dying off had driven into their heads that when the gang dropped to too few, Joker might decide to play with the kids they were guarding. As it was, only Harley had been able to convince him that kids needed to run and play. So the bodyguards took over that responsibility.
She watched them, and dread filled her. She was as trapped as these boys were, as trapped as the men she had led into it. Puddin' was starting to go further and further off the rails, and her only hope was that he would get what he wanted from this. Even though it felt traitorous, she hoped Ivy had come up with a rescue plan. That Batman had figured it all out. Otherwise she saw children dying. And that would stain her soul so badly she would become a monster like him.
She paused at that thought. A monster like him. . .
She went back into the house, grabbed a cup of coffee, and walked on toward the front hall. "Har-Lee!" She looked up to the upper landing. Joker stood there.
"Yes sir Mr. J?"
"When Rocco gets back, he has some garbage to dump. Geno was getting on my nerves."
And then there were five . . . "How so, Mr. J?"
"It was that in and out with the air he kept doing. That breathing with the nasal whine from that broken nose. But he's much better now. See to it."
She sighed, walking back to the kitchen where Max and Solly were watching the priests. It wasn't adversarial any more. Too many of their people had died because the Joker just seemed to like it. While Harley had killed two of the five dead, no one, even the gang held it against her. As a Texan might say, they had needed killing. "Max, Solly, go up and bring Geno down."
"Shit." Solly said softly. "What'll we do with him? The meat locker is turning into a morgue!"
"I know that. We'll take all of the bodies out after Rocco gets back. Find an abandoned station to dump them if we can. None of us should be stuck in these tunnels forever." She finished her cup, then went over to the bottle of wine from the night before. She poured a glass. "Absent friends."
"What would you have us do?" The Archbishop asked.
"If anyone needed prayer before, we could sure use it now. Get the boys in, practice that last hymn. Pray while you do that it satisfies Mr. J or none of us is getting out of here alive."
Bad News and Good News
Rocco looked at the text with real hope for once. 'Your offer has been accepted. Once the value has been appraised, you can retire; Lark'. "Thank god." he whispered. Now all he had to do was get out alive. He could let Penguin know where the house was, hand him the key to the car . . .
And let those kids die? He stopped at that. Harley was the one who was hung up on kids. But she had been right when she dealt with those two slime yesterday morning. If he let them die, there would be nowhere in the world he could hide, unless he wanted to become a Muslim and hide with ISIS. Not that it was any safer.
It wasn't better when he saw the headlines screaming at him. JOKER WILL TRADE THE ARCHBISHOP FOR THE POPE! POPE REFUSES TO COMMENT.
Fucking wonderful. Getting burned at the stake was starting to sound like the good option.
He waited patiently in the line to pick up Harley's dress, then stalked back to the train station. He stopped at the platform, and took out his phone. 'Might need some help. Joker has the Sistine Chapel Choir as hostages, and we're running out of guards. I'd turn myself in, but I would just be the richest man in the slam'.
'Stash is located in underground mansion built by your ancestor. Hope you can get to it'. He sighed. Did Penguin even know where the mansion was? Rocco didn't. He sent the message off, then called the car.
Across town, Oracle snapped out of her catnap. The tracker was moving. She tapped her communication console, putting on her headset. "Bruce, the dress is moving."
Standing up to Puddin'
On his return, Joker's attention was drawn by Harley's squee of delight as she drew the dress from the bag. It was gorgeous! As she spun with delight, she saw Joker leaning on the doorway and grinning - with his teeth clenched. As he stalked forward, everyone fell back a step.
"Har-leyyy.." He drawled. "That looks ever so much better than it did the other night! When did you find the time to fix and clean it?"
Harley could read the signs - he wasn't hung over, he was wound tighter than she had ever seen him, and he was over-acting how casual he was. This was classic I'm-going-to-kill-someone-I-just-need-the-excuse Joker, and if she didn't get him down, he would - and they didn't have any Boyz to spare, she wouldn't let him at the kids, at this point they needed the minders to keep the kids in line - it was all on her. She pasted on wicked grin number two and held the dress up.
"Hey, Mistah J! Yeah, it looks better than evah, don't it? Wanna see how it looks on me?" She spun, and was sure to throw just a little - twerk - into it as she turned her back on him and came back around. Sex was a good way to unwind him, he hadn't touched her since he was busted out, he wasn't hung over, if she could just get him to follow her ass, she might yet salvage the day...
As she led the Joker into her boudoir, Rocco and the Boyz breathed a sigh of relief. Rocco gestured, and the other two led the way down the stairs, Rocco pausing a moment to silently wish her well. Then he went down as well. Maybe there'd be a message on his phone...
Joker closed the door behind him with an elegant courtesy that renewed the screaming red alert in Harley's brain. "Harley... We both know you can't sew worth a lick, and we both know you didn't get those lovely little cherubs down the hall to do it... So why don't you just tell me how that dress got so - freshened up?" he advanced, with that gritted teeth grinning leer that usually ended with either an acid squirt or a puff of SmileX.
"I - I dropped it off the other day, when we went to get supplies, Mr. J!" Harley said, clutching the dress to her bosom in what she hoped was a coquettish manner - and not showing how scared she was. "I sent Rocco with another guy to get the veggies and stuff father Richter wanted, a-and, and- " If I mention Ivy he'll kill me! "-I dropped off the dress to be dry-cleaned and altered, and then we went to go get drinks while we were waiting for Rocco to get back!"
The Joker threw back his head and genuinely laughed. "HA HA ha ha ha... I love it! Make two do all the work, while you do the drinking!" Joker dropped an arm over Harley's shoulders, but the other hand was stroking her chin, so he probably wasn't going to spray her just yet. "So what do you see in them, Harley...?" His eyebrows wiggled suggestively. "You didn't go get a room, didja...?"
Genuine indignation infused Harley's voice. "With them, Mr. J? No way, I'd never do that!"
Joker started pacing again, his hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't a good pose either, Harley knew, but it beat the hell out of a hand in a pocket, playing with the bulb connected to his lapel flower. "Good. Don't get too attached to the help, Harley... they ain't gonna be cashing any checks off of this one, you know what I mean?" Joker's chuckle this time was the low, mean sound she loved... when it wasn't aimed at her.
"But they're loyal, Mr. J." she protested as loudly as she could. Damn it, they weren't gonna get any more people for at least a month, didn't he know that?
Joker waved her protest away, as she knew he would. "Loyal Schmoyal! They're dead weight, Harley, surely you know that, right? He stopped, as a new thought occurred to him. "So what is up with you and that little golden voiced devil, anyway? I saw you hugging him the other night...?"
Harley stopped dead, horror washing thru her. "Uh, he reminds me of my brother?" She squeaked.
Joker grinned. Gotcha... "How so? He's not dead!"
Harley looked shocked. "Like he was before all that, Mr. J. When he was - alive..."
The Joker's eyebrows rose in genuine puzzlement. "When he was alive...? Did your little brother sing...?" She'd never said anything about that...
Harley shook her head frantically, her desperation coming thru clearly. "NO, sir. Daddy didn't like noise in the house."
Joker resumed pacing, but it was slow. "So how does he remind you..." Joker slapped his forehead. "D'oh! of course! He looks kinda like him, eh? His hair is the same color as yours..." Joker giggled again, it all coming together in his head. This was going to be fun... "You'd cry if something bad happened to the little brat, wouldn't you, Harley?" Behind his back, his hands were moving, almost drywashing in back of himself.
Harley had missed the turn in his head, she knew she had. "What do you mean, Mr. J? I'm worried for all of them. Including the Boyz..."
Joker waved his hand, her words inconsequential. "Worried? Worried? Why? They're not worth worrying about. But János, now..." He turned to look at her. "It'd be bad if he lost his voice, wouldn't it, Harley?"
"Lost his voice? H-how...?"
Joker's voice was avuncular. "Well, boys grow up, Harley... I'm sure you've noticed this." He paused and melodramatically wiped a tear from his eye. "And young boys, when they're not so very young, why, their voices change..." he let his voice trail off as he guaged his moment of delivery to his audience. Just as she drew breath to speak, he cut her off. "We wouldn't want that, now would we, Harley?" He shook his head as he spoke. Again the moment to let her draw breath, and then: "That would be a bad thing, wouldn't it, Harley?" and he began nodding his head, cuing her agreement.
Harley fell in helplessly with the gag. "Well, yeah, Mistah J! But that's years away, he's only nine!"
Joker shook his head sadly even as he grinned inwardly. "Oh no... it can happen much sooner than that. Why, in only two short years, he might be needing to shave!" Joker giggled softly as various usages for the word shaved presented themselves to his depraved imagination. "But I have a fix for that, and then he can sing just the way he is for the rest of his entire life!"
"What do you mean, Mistah J?" Harley asked in a voice gone soft with dread.
Joker was suddenly brisk as he started clearing off an end table. It was small, but the little brat was small too... "Now, now, Harley, Dr. Joker's got it all under control. I need you to go get the little tot, and while you're at it, go to the kitchen and get a big ol' knife... a santuko. And bring them both here... and Dr. Joker will make sure his voice never changes!"
Harley couldn't think. "But, Mistah J..."
Joker verbally pounced. "BUT? I love your butt! It's so round, so fully packed, as they say - but I don't like the word in your mouth!" So saying he slapped her, not terribly hard, just enough to let her know they were into the next part of the program. "You're going to go get that kid, and the knife, and you're going to bring him right here, so Dr. Joker can operate!"
She shook her head, knowing that she was drawing his wrath down on her - and not caring. "Please, no, Mr. J."
Joker was so pleased with himself, he was muttering as he dragged the little table under the light. "We can even use the little morsels... send them to Jimbo, so he knows we're not kidding!" He cackled madly. Then what she said penetrated, and he spun, genuinely astonished. "NO? No? What is this no, Harley? You want him to keep singing, right?"
Harley desperately tried to explain, to take advantage of the break in Joker's thinking. "I do want to keep him as he is, Mr. J! But boys grow into men, and my brother didn't have that chance!" She cast the dress aside, that plan gone with the wind.
Joker's train of thought completed the loop-de-loop and slammed right back down on the tracks... downhill all the way. "But what good will he be to the choir (and the priests, I hear they like little boys) if his voice changes, Harley?" He stalked towards her, and he was clenching his jaw again.
She considered how to convince him. "Mr. J, I never got the chance to hear what my brother sounded like as a man. I think I would hear it when János grows up."
He hauled off and slapped her for real. "You think? You THINK? You don't think, Harley, you aren't qualified to operate the equipment! I DO THE THINKING AROUND HERE!"
Harley kept on her feet. "Please, Mr. J! Please, leave them alone!" She felt the tears start to flow, and knew it would only make things worse. "Leave him alone! Why are you being so mean?"
Joker cackled and hit her harder, knocking her into the wall. "And why should I, Har-lee?"
"Because I love him!"
"Bwah-ha ha ha haaa!" Joker actually stopped, slapping his own thigh. "You love him? You LOVE him? He's hardly out of diapers yet, It'll be ten years before he knows what THESE - " He grabbed her breasts and twisted viciously in opposite directions - "are for, and you love him?" He let go, laughing so hard he was shaking uncontrollably. "You want to preserve his voice, those useless bits got to go, Harley! You know that, the priest knows that... he cackled cruelly. "We'll cut his head off! The little one, I mean! Send it to Gordon in a box with a pretty little bow... then send his 'nads in a doggy bag tomorrow, packed in ice! Ha ha HA HA HA hee hooooo..."
"No, no!" She screamed. "Do me, hurt me - " She never got the rest of it out.
Joker was all over her, slapping and punching. "What, is that an offer, Harley? Well, I haven't tuned you up lately, I'm happy to oblige!" Again and again he hit her, open hand, closed fist, her attempts to shield herself just spurring him on. "Want another, Harley?" Slap. "How about another?" Punch. "You're gonna go get the little brat, and the knife, and we'll do him together!"
She just shook her head, knowing she was sealing her doom. "No, Mr. J. - I love you, but - "
Something gave inside of the Joker. "Well, I - " as he knocked her to the floor - "am SICK and TIRED - " he hauled off and kicked one for the goalposts, wrapping Harley around his left spat - "of YOU, stupid, worthless - ! I never loved you, you were always just a rag I wiped myself on! Now fucking die and get out of my way!"
Harley's heart broke, and as Joker stabbed her over and over, her last thoughts were a prayer for the choir, and a wish for Ivy...
Harley Beaten
"Rocco! Come up here!" Joker shouted. Rocco ran up the stairs, opening the door.
"Yeah, Mr. J - uh!" Rocco stared at the wreckage of one Ms. Harleen Quinzell, AK Harley Quinn.
"I'm done with Miz. Quinzell, Rocco..." Joker said in a jovial tone of voice. Why, he felt positively refreshed! "And she is clearly done with life. Take that to wherever you took Bobby - they can rest together." He wandered into the inner rooms of the suite.
Rocco went over to Harley, leaving Joe at the door. The beautiful dress he had complimented her on was destroyed - the Joker had literally torn it to pieces. Her hands were slashed and torn, as were her forearms. Worse, her jeans were soaked in blood. He couldn't see what was going on there - the leather bustier was in the way - but it was clear she had been stabbed multiple times.
"Ah, shit..." he muttered, as he rolled her over. Her makeup was smeared to hell, blood oozing thru in places and beading on the greasepaint. Underneath that, her face was simply beaten. He doubted she could open her left eye if she wanted to, and her lips were just as swollen. Worse, it looked like she was trying to grin - the telltale sign of Smilex. Her signature ponytails were gone: one cut short, the other torn out at the roots, contributing still more blood to the scene. Her jaw looked crooked to him - he was no doc, but it looked broken. And her ear was full of bright, bright red blood. He knew what that likely meant - skull fracture, bad enough to tear the ear canal. If he was right, she was a dead woman without prompt medical attention - and there was simply no way to get her any. If he'll do this to her, ain't none of us gonna make it... flashed thru his mind.
He grabbed the bedspread and folded it swiftly, as his ma had taught him, and eased her body onto it as gently as he could. Her enormous gun thudded to the carpet - she had been armed, and either had not had time to get to it, or hadn't thought it was needed until it was too late. He quietly stuffed it back in it's holster in the small of her back. Then he signaled Joe, and the two of them picked Harley up and carried her away in silence.
The Batmobile howled down the road from the secret entrance, Ahead was the rail tunnel from the north, with a freight train running on track two, the one Batman needed. The car went through the chainlink fence like a knife through butter, and was airborne, slamming down on the ballast as he turned more, now following the tracks. "Oracle, is track one clear?"
"No joy, Batman. The 11:12 freight is outbound and due in seconds. Track three is clear for three miles before the Metropolis Limited leaves in . . . four minutes."
He growled, spinning the wheel, the car going into a four wheel skid as he aimed for track three instead. The car bumped over the rails, now bouncing as he hit the sleepers, but a touch of a button, and train wheels dropped, lifting the car, smoothing the ride. He pressed the accelerator harder. There was only two minutes by his internal clock before he met a passenger train coming the other way.
Ivy heard a slight whirring sound, and her eyes snapped to the table. "Selina!" Ivy shouted. The LBB had lifted off, from the table, and was headed for the door. She ran over, flinging it open.
Selina came charging down the stairs. "Oracle, we're moving!"
"Copy that. Batman will meet you at Mosquito Junction!"
Catwoman reversed heading for the roof. "Ivy, you got ground level! I'll relay if it goes high!"
"On it!" Ivy grabbed her jump bag of seeds, and ran for her trusty biodiesel Hudson. The roar of the engine heralded it's advent out of the garage as Ivy followed the LBB.
On the earbud Batman had supplied she heard Selina. "Headed west! Just turned at the Commerce bank!"
"Oracle. Are Ivy and Catwoman moving?"
"They're moving Batman." She flicked to another screen. "Batman..."
"I know." He bit out. He was rapidly approaching the head of the freight train, but ahead of him he could see the lights of the Metropolis Limited as it came around the corner less than a quarter mile away.
Oracle reached out to the two trains thru the internet, throttling them both back a full detent notch even as Batman floored his car. The jet engine howled as the car bounced over sleepers with the rail wheels retracted, then jerked to the left as he pushed in front of the freight train and dropped them again to lock himself into the rails and make best use of the stabilization. The Limited roared by, less than five feet from the Batmobile even as he left the freight behind. "Status, Oracle? And thank you for the assist."
"You would've had it with all of six feet to spare, but why cut it close?" Oracle answered. "The first little bat is passing the discontinuity. Hold, the rail car is coming back."
Rocco wished he remembered church, especially the words they said when someone died. He'd been in the army when his dad died in the workplace accident, in the slam when his mother passed. Her dying had been the worst; he'd loved his mom, and had almost begged to be released long enough to attend. He looked down at the row of bodies between the seats. Except for Bobbie and the two fuckheads, all of them had ended up in the meat locker.
The pasty-faced whack job had told them to just run down the tracks to one of the side tunnels near where the rails met the subway system. He'd even set a time for them to do it. Twenty minutes. When Rocco had diffidently told him none of the other bodies had been dumped yet, he had allowed thirty-five instead. Enough time to hump them into the car, drive out, dump, and get back. Not enough time to even get a decent head start.
While he hadn't considered it, there had to have been a reason the Joker had specified that all of these boyz had family. After Bobbie, he'd told them that if any tried to run, the Joker would assure his family didn't get a whole lot older. Ms Quinn had reminisced about a guy named Charlie Collins, who had pissed the Joker off, and been threatened into agreeing to do a favor. It took two years before the Joker had asked for it, and it had almost gotten him killed, and would have gotten his family killed if he had refused.
Like the old saying went, he could run, but it would only mean he died tired.
He stopped the car then looked at the line of bodies. "Max, Tommy, put them over there." He motioned toward the front of the car at a an opening. "I'll drag them to the door." Tommy nodded, jumping down to the floor. Max joined him, taking the feet of one of the bodies. They carried it as Rocco pulled the next over, hustling to grab the third.
Finally the only one who remained was Harley. Rocco jumped down, carrying her himself. The others had been laid in a line, and Rocco knew soon enough he'd be laying there with them. He gently laid her at the end of the line, then pulled the cloth back from her face. She looked almost peaceful. Well, as peaceful as you could be after being beaten to death. He ran his hand along her cheek. "Well ma'am, we can't move you to a station like I wanted. But if I survive, I'll tell them where you are." He leaned down, kissing her cheek. "Bye, Ms Quinn."
"Rocco?" Tommy sounded nervous.
"What?"
"Somethin's comin'."
Meanwhile Ivy cursed as the old Hudson howled around the corner and she floored it. "Cat! The drone is with me! Drop down and I'll pick you up!"
The reply was a gay laugh. "Pick me up? I"ll be there before you are!"
Ivy ran up on the sidewalk, people scattering like pigeons as she passed by some idiot double parked, then back on the street. The 23rd Street station was ahead, and she slammed the brakes, the Hudson jumping the curb and barely missing knocking over a fire hydrant as Selina dropped before her, running toward the subway station. Ivy left the car parked and ran down the stairs. Her pheromones fairly exploded from her. "Men! Get everyone out of the way!" In front of the Rogues, the little brown bat lofted over the people, rushing forward.
"How far are we going to walk?" Ivy asked. The little brown bat had slipped into the tunnel.
Catwoman snorted. "Walk? We're not walking." She pointed at the track as something whined up and stopped. It was a small uncovered gasoline powered electric cart, with two seats and a flatbed, and she climbed aboard. Ivy got on, and Catwoman switched it to manual. "Ready?" Ivy started to say she was when it took off like a... she grinned, cat chasing a bat.
"Keep your eye on the screen. The Little Brown Bat is sending a signal from the Verner whatever."
The commuters stared, then spun to look the other way at a howl quite unlike a train sounding in the tunnels as the Batmobile's turbine roared. People on the 23rd St station were treated to the momentary glimpse of the Batmobile rolling down the tracks as it passed the station.
If the Batmobile had not had it's own computer to handle switching, Oracle would have been overloaded. She had two little brown bats running ahead of the cart, one pacing it, and two in trail following. She was also handling the switching, hacking into Metro's computer to switch the cart from line to line avoiding the trains that were still running their circuits.
As the cart shot through the Rue Lafayette station, number five dropped out, cutting into the line leading out of the payphone. The uplink came up, and she sent number five in chase yet again.
They hurtled across the city, the sensor Ivy held warning them with enough time to get onto sidings to avoid passenger trains. But after a short while, the trains were in the past, and the line ran straight as a die. She jammed the accelerator down.
"Oracle, do you have a brown bat with them?"
"Number three."
"And the rail car?"
"It's stopped just under a kilometer ahead of them."
"Catwoman. I would slow down." Batman broadcast.
"Why, Batman? Did you want to snuggle up to my back?" She purred.
"There's a car on the tracks less than three hundred yards ahead of your position."
"Shit!" She slammed down the brake lever, seeing a black monolith in front of her, sure she would not stop in time. Ivy shrieked in fright, and clung to her. I fucking refuse to die like this...! She closed her eyes. Selina's head snapped around. There was an echo of...
"Batman, gunfire!" she shouted in unison with Ivy and Oracle. "Batman, hit the brakes, hit the brakes now!"
As she shouted, they could see in the headlights, a number of figures in ragged clothes, and beyond them, one of Cobblepot's rail cars. Off to the left could be seen the flash of weapons firing.
"A lot of movement. Looks like fifteen, twenty people." Oracle added. "Three different weapons. An Ingram mac 10. a 9mm automatic, and a .45." Then there was a deeper boom. "Wait, four weapons, including a large bore revolver, .45 to .60 caliber, can't be sure from the echoes."
The cart skidded to a stop, and Selina leaped out. Ivy stood, looked at the figures, then flung her hand out. Behind them the seeds sprouted into things out of a nightmare. Ivy pulled a dart out of her side, and sniffed it. "Curare. How... quaint." She pointed. "Get them!" The plants slithered past them, and the creatures squealed in terror, and fled, dropping the bodies they had been carrying. More of their own kind from the look.
Ivy climbed down, pulling another dart from her leg. "Great. It's like Raiders of the Lost Ark." She walked forward, kneeling. "With something out of the Time Machine." The figure looked like a wizened ape / human cross with huge eyes, a misshapen cranium, and an even bigger hole in it's head. The creatures were in full flight back up the way, dragging at least two of their own.
Batman looked down at the poor pitiful corpse. "Damnation. Cadmus didn't get them all after all." There was cursing ahead, then a man's voice. "Rocco? What's wrong..?" There was a groan.
The trio moved forward into the battlefield. There were bodies lined neatly against the wall, and a trio of armed men facing outward. Outside of them were the bodies of more than a dozen more of the attackers. One man was slowly collapsing as they approached.
"Batman." Ivy moved toward the tunnel, flicking on her flashlight. "Do you happen to have an antidote for curare?"
"As it happens, I do, Ivy. But I thought you didn't need it."
She motioned toward Rocco, who had fallen back with a couple of darts in him. "I don't, but he does." She picked up a blow pipe made from a human bone. "These darts are machined, not hand made. They've been collecting the darts from somewhere, and using them to hunt."
He made sure there were no more darts in the men, then injected them with the antidote. He lifted one dart, examining it closely. Ivy was right. They were wickedly sharp pieces of steel with fins cut into them. That meant - "Ivy, Catwoman, don't try walking in the tunnel just yet. There are-" He was interrupted by a groan and the sound of shells hitting the floor. He lifted his hand lamp, and flashed it into the alcove.
Harley was laying there, fumbling with her huge pistol. Emptied cartridges lay on the floor beside her body, and she was trying to get her belt open for another speed loader. He moved to kneel beside her. "Ivy!"
Harely looked up, and tried to grin at Batman. "Heya, Bats... Looks like I had 'nother bad day, huh... The Boyz?"
Ivy came back toward him. "Two of them are responding, Bat-" She saw Harley, "Harley!" Ivy leaped down the tunnel, shoving Rocco aside to fall on her knees by her friend. Harley looked like hell, both pigtails gone, blood staining her stomach and chest.
She opened her eyes. "Ivy? Can't be. She doesn't know where I am." She looked at her friend. "I wanted to see you one more time." She sagged back, the gun falling from her hand. She reached up, touching Ivy's face, then the hand fell again. "I'm just gonna rest a bit..."
"Oh Harley." Ivy sobbed.
Batman was assessing Harley. "Not good. Fractured skull, hemothorax..."
Catwoman walked back over to Batman. Ivy was kneeling, holding Harley's torso up as she cried. Catwoman knelt, fingers against her neck. "Pulse is weak. We're losing her."
Ivy screamed. Down the tunnel, her plants howled in sympathetic fury.
"Hiya, Cats! I got to be dreamin'... Nice to see you too..."
"Don't talk, Harley." She looked up at Batman. "She needs medical attention, now. And I don't think Ivy is going to be much use to us until she gets it."
Batman worked fast. "Selina - pressure dressings - here, and here. Keep her head elevated. Ivy! Activate another plant, one of the ones keyed to Harley. Tell it to bind her legs, tightly but not crushing. We need to force the blood from her legs into her core. Oracle, route to Leslie's clinic! She won't live long without aid."
"Where?" Ivy snarled. Leaves whipped around Harley's legs.
"Private medical clinic." He picked up the injured woman. "Oracle?"
"On it, Batman. Leslie has been warned. I'm setting the Batmobile for the shortest route."
Batman strode toward the car. Harley whispered. "Rocco? Max? Tommy? Tommy was hit first..."
Behind her, Rocco' voice sounded like crushed gravel. "Christ I must be dead. Ms Quinn?"
Harley's voice was weak, but clear. "Rocco. Ya - ya gotta get them out. Now. He'll drunk, he'll sleep, but he's gonna kill 'em all..."
"Sure." He groaned. "As soon as I can stand." He looked around. "Where's Tommy?"
Catwoman came up. "Tommy is dead. They were dragging him away. I got them."
"My boyz. Can't leave my boyz." She waved weakly toward the laid out bodies.
Batman's voice was as gentle as any they had heard. "Harley. I'll see to them. Let Ivy take you to care."
Oracle broke in. "All set. But Ivy will need help getting her up to the clinic."
"Understood. Ivy, stay with her, keep pressure. Leslie won't ask questions."
Catwoman slapped Rocco, who looked shell shocked. "Hey! We need you! Go with Ivy, help her move Harley. You need to be checked as well."
Rocco shook his head doggedly. "Can't. Gotta save the kids."
Catwoman rounded on Max. "Then you're elected. Help her get Harley to the clinic. Then turn yourself in. We'll give the police a good word for you."
Ivy went with her, but looked back. "But the deal. We didn't help you get the boys!"
"Selina and I will see to that. Go. Take care of her."
Ivy stared at him in disbelief, then leaped over to hug him. "Thank you. For everything." Then she was in the driver's seat, taking Harley from Max's arms. Max staggered around and climbed in.
Batman eyed the thug. He was visibly gathering his strength. "He'll do. We need a guide to the hostages."
Rocco nodded frantically. "Uh - yeah, yeah! Whatever you say, Bats! I know where they are, sure..."
Batman silently pointed to the rail car. "Oracle, we're going on. Contact Gordon, get the GCPD moving; we're going to have a lot of people to move out of here. Tell him to stage at the Junction, and warn him some of Cadmus's morlocks will still be in the area, and that we have several bodies for them to pick up."
"Already done. Two swat teams enroute. Ambulances and paramedics at the last station."
"We'll need the full dress major Incident protocol; fifty six souls coming out, if all goes well, most of them children."
"I've notified them via fax as Oracle."
There was a high keening snarl. "Damnation. Oracle, there are definitely still Morlocks in these tunnels..." The snarling became screaming as the Snookums that were still loose attacked them. "And some of Ivy's pets are still running around. Warn them that Ivy and Catwoman are assisting us. The plants will attack if fired upon, so don't shoot them."
"The Morlocks? More than you might imagine. They weren't running away, they were gathering reinforcements. Number five is right overhead of them now. Estimate 60 of them, coming from the last spur siding. Between you and the way out." There was a sudden burst of electric fire down the passage. "Not sure how much good I can do. You didn't build the bats for a high threat environment."
"Take the others back as well to escort Ivy. This tunnel is a straight line, it's not like we're going to get lost. The transponders will carry our signal."
"Number One has reached the end of the line, I'm holding it there. Others headed back. Better hurry, in case there are more of those things on the way."
"Catwoman. You caught that?"
"With you lover. Forward is the safest way." She motioned. "But there must be something about the subway car that makes it safer. Maybe we ride on?"
Batman turned the handlamp to show the construction. It was fused tile sides and floor with no seams visible, even after all this time.
"Quality work." Selina mused. "Obviously prewar. The grouting material must be extraordinarily elastic to have lasted so long. Look, grates in the floor. There's the drain system. But why have grates in a system that was never used?"
"Oracle, water sources out here?"
"Probably only used once to flood the system, then to circulate the water, likely. Then used to drain the tunnel system. According to records, there is an underground river ahead about four more klicks. Even scuba divers would have had to turn back by now. Incredible engineering... and incredible he kept it all off the books."
"I'll say this for Oscar, he had it built to last." Selina mused.
"It explains the depth restriction Oscar put into the lease back in the late 30s. The base is restricted to a depth of not more than 100 feet. That's why the DOD didn't renew to keep it." Oracle commented.
Batman continued. "And Oscar had his bolthole under the base. Clearly he never thought of nuclear weapons - of course, he must have designed and blueprinted all this back in the twenties.
"Back when TNT was the big thing." Selina murmured. "But there has to be defenses - Oscar wouldn't have built his bolt hole without them."
"I wouldn't have... and a man I trust described Oscar Cobblepott as evil." He pulled out a batarang, throwing it side arm so it hit and bounced down the tunnel. Every time it hit the ground there was the sound of compressed air, and darts of the same design as the ones they had found shot out from concealed launchers behind certain tiles. "Oracle, let Gordon know that his men must not proceed beyond the Junction. They'll run into a gauntlet of poison dart guns if they do."
Batman turned and offered his hand to Selina, but she swarmed up into the car without his help. "Evil? Or just so focused on number one that no one else mattered?"
Batman joined her. "Is there a difference? That attitude is the root of Gotham's problems." He moved to the control panel. "Rocco?"
"We need to move that key to the other end." He pointed. "The system is automated, so turn the key, and we move out."
Batman took out the key, and walked toward the other end. Rocco stood about halfway up the car, but Selina followed Batman to the opposite panel. "By that definition, I'm evil, too." She whispered. She stepped forward, running her fingers along his chest. "Am I evil, Batman?"
Batman snorted and shook his head. "If that applied to you, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have had our backs these last two years." He raised his hand to caress her cheek. "You are not evil, and never have been."
"I've spent most of my life worried about number one." She tapped her chest. "I worried about number one. About what I needed and wanted."
"Not to the exclusion of others. Not to the point that you literally didn't care about the consequences to those around you."
"So I still have a heart. Great."
"Selina..." He growled in frustration. Then he grabbed her and kissed her desperately, like she was his last hope of heaven.
She hugged him, finally breaking the kiss, breathing heavily. "I hate to say it, but we don't have time for this. Afterward. Pasta Alfredo with Chianti."
There was a thudding sound from the back of the car. Batman smiled. "We have sixty plus cannibalistic monsters derived from human DNA here, and an insane man holding hostages on the other end. But you're worried about dinner..." He turned the key, and the engine kicked to life as the car began to move.
"Of course I am. And I want the Bianchi '10."
He smiled. "And how do you know about you-know-who's Alfredo Chianti? You raid the recipe box?"
"Raid it? I photocopied it!"
"Then you should try his Veal Penne with vodka sauce."
"Oh the Penne is superb, as is the sauce. I did. Do you know how much Luigi's would pay for that Chicken Tessadoro recipe? Or his Veal Penne?"
"Interesting; the morlocks did not attack the car except for firing their blowguns at us... and they're not following. Sad thing is, the vodka is not Russian... it's French."
"Not all Russian products are lousy... the Stoly Chornya reserve is exquisite. What about caviar? Isis loves caviar."
"But what about you? What do you like? Besides cheesecake, you never get the tiramisu at Luigi's... always the cheesecake."
"Hey, it's good cheesecake. The chocolate strawberry is to die for."
Ahead of them they could see the station Oscar had built. "We're here..."
Selina sighed. "Good. All this talk in making me want those cream tarts you-know-who makes. Though I am sure he blamed you for them."
They stepped out onto the siding. A gorgeously wrought set of carved oaken doors were ahead of them.
First aid.
The Batmobile slid to a stop, and Max climbed out. He walked around, keeping one hand on the car while taking care not to touch the third rail. But he wasn't steady enough to pick up Harley. He cursed.
Suddenly a light flashed on, and he stepped back instinctively, his foot hitting the electrified rail. But nothing happened. He patted himself like someone who was looking for his keys, sure he should be dead.
"Get off the rail, you moron." Leslie Thompkins snapped. She came down the set of stairs leading upward followed by two large men. The men brought a stokes litter, expertly mounted it on Harley, and lifted her from the car. Leslie checked Harley over quickly. "Operating room, fast!" She turned to Ivy and Max standing by the car. "Well? Are you coming or not?"
As they got to the stairs the Batmobile leaped into flight, and was gone. "Don't worry." She said, not unkindly. "I don't lose patients. They're not like socks after all. Come on." She braced herself under Max's arm. "A bit of help here, Red?"
Rescue
Batman took out the key, handing it to Catwoman. The car that had been parked at the station didn't have one, but that didn't bother him. He pointed at Rocco. "Lead the way."
The thug turned rescuer merely nodded, walking to the door. It opened, and they paused in the front foyer.
"It looks like the interior of the old Cobblepot mansion before it was demolished." Catwoman looked at Batman, who was watching her. "Hey, when you decide to become a cat burglar, you learn these things. I had spent three years in my teens collecting places to rob, and they demolished it only a year before I would have gone to work."
"The more I know about you, the less I know." Batman commented.
An armed man came from a hall leading toward the back, and froze when he saw them. For a moment, they expected him to flee or shout an alarm. But he saw Rocco, and came forward like a besieged garrison commander welcoming his relief. "Christ, I'm glad you're back. Where is..." He saw who followed, and started to raise the gun, but it dropped again. "Oh, thank God."
"It would be Goddess." Catwoman quipped. "But I can understand the confusion." Her face hardened. "There were two left."
"Were." The man growled. "Solly asked to be let out of his deal with the Joker. The son of a bitch walked him to the station and told him to run on home. Even promised not to kill his family." He had a look of horror on his face. "Past the station, there are some kind of dart guns in the walls. He got maybe ten feet before he was a fucking pincushion!"
"Help us save the hostages, and I guarantee you will have help when it comes to trial." Batman said. "Choose."
"I'd help the devil save them, Batman."
"Then move. You, Rocco and Catwoman get them out. The Joker is mine. Where is he?"
"The back 40, I think. He wanted a bottle of that booze Harley introduced him to." He had a look of hate on his face. "After killing her, I hope he chokes on it!"
"Paulie." Rocco came over, hugging the guy around the shoulders. "She's alive. Batman and Poison Ivy sent her to a doctor. Believe, man."
"I do." He looked to Batman. "What do you want us to do?"
"Get them out."
The party moved through the house. The priests looked up, seeing who came, and immediately began gathering the boys. But one was missing: János. "I will get him." Richter said.
The Fly in the Ointment
Joker pulled the bottle out, ripping out the cork. The booze was actually good. He'd have to tell Harley... He stopped. "It's good booze, Harley!" He shouted at the rock roof. Then, just to be sure, he repeated it looking at the floor. He walked to the door, and stopped. That damn kid, János was out there, playing with those damn hyenas.
"János!" Richter was at the back door, waving to the boy. Then he said something in an Eastern European language. But one word was in English.
Batman.
He went back into the wine store, looking for the keypad he'd spotted. Old Oscar had worried about a servant revolt, so he'd installed something to stop it. Joker didn't know what it was, and at that moment, he could've cared less. He inserted the same key they used to run the second car, and turned it. There was a snapping sound, and the lights went out.
Inside the building, they looked up as the lights went out. "Get them moving." Batman ordered. He handed Catwoman two of his grappling lines. "Couple the cars together. If they won't couple, use these to bind them together." Then he ghosted towards the back of the house.
As Catwoman and Rocco chivvied the frightened and bewildered children onto the forward railcar, ably assisted by the ArchBishop and the children's minders, a gunshot sounded. Then another, and another. The Joker's voice could be heard sing-songing something, and then another gunshot sounded, followed by an odd sound, like distant thunder..
Catwoman ached to go back. Batman was alone against the most dangerous madman Gotham had ever produced, and she wanted to help. Preferably by long-shotting her whip straight thru his Adam's apple. But He was trusting her to get the job done, Ivy and Harley were trusting her to get the job done, the kids were trusting her to get the job done, and by God she was going to see it thru. And if the Clown won, then she was going to get her claws bloodied to the wrists, and Harley could hate her.
As she dropped between the cars to check the couplers, she shouted. "Make sure of the headcount!" she commanded, unaware of just how Bat-like she sounded. "The tunnel is boobytrapped, anyone left behind won't make it out on foot!" The couplers looked like they would work, so she climbed back up, running to the front car.
"I'm on it!" Rocco acknowledged, and ran for the second car. He came back a minute later. "We got twenty kids an' six adults on'na other car! But we might got a problem!" He pointed up and towards the mansion.
Catwoman already had the count for the car she was in. "Good, we have them all! What prob - " She looked up. The roof of the cave was on fire. Amid the flames, pipes and tanks could be seen, suspended from above. "Oh God. Batman, Oracle, some kind of self-destruct has been triggered! Rocco, check the couplers! I'm going to back up to connect them, make sure they lock up! If we both move, jump into the rear car. If not, sing out!"
"Batman! Joker is in back are of the caves! He's firing into the gas equipment!"
"Catwoman! Get them out of here. Now!"
"Batman! You'll be trapped!"
"Go!"
She backed, and felt the cars impact. Praying, she engaged the drive forward. The second car felt the drag and dropped into neutral automatically. "Oracle, we're moving out!"
"What about Batman? His transponder is not in the cars!"
"We'll hold at the start of the tunnel! Tell him to hurry!" Behind them the door to the manse blew outward, followed by billows of smoke.
90 seconds earlier
"Batman, Catwoman and the others have all the children on the platform; the cars are almost loaded. No sign of Joker on this side. I'm bringing the Little Brown Bat over and around to check the rear."
"Copy that, Oracle. No sign of him inside, either." Batman's instincts were screaming that things were going entirely too well. "I'm moving to the platform."
Oracle didn't answer for a moment. When she did, her voice was admirably calm, considering. "Batman, I'm looking at a mass of corroded piping leading to tankage suspended from the roof. The closest tank is labeled CS. At a guess, there's enough here to flood the entire cavern."
At that moment, the LBB touched one of the supports. No harm directly done; both the LBB and the support were unharmed. But the contact was quite audible. And it was all the Joker, laying in wait at the end of the tunnel to the wine cellar, needed.
"I heeaarrd that, Batsy!" he practically screamed in murderous, maniacal joy. And with that, he ran out into the back forty, and fired up into the darkness.
The bullet breached one of the steel pipes connected to the gas tanks. The gas within, highly pressurized and utterly degraded by sixty years of time, spewed forth. Oracle saw the bullet ricochet off the rock of the cavern walls, and directed the LBB to hover and angle down to get a better look. Thus, she saw rounds two and three being fired.
Bullet number two ignited the growing cloud of gas descending from the breached pipe. The resultant flash threw the LBB into piping and supports, creating further sparks and compromising the LBB's left rotor. Bullet number three merely ricocheted about before lodging in the cavern wall.
The Joker saw the LBB lose control in the light of the gas cloud, and his laughter echoed thru the now hellishly lit cavern. He took aim, his tongue protruding out the side of his mouth. "I got'cha now, Bats!" And he fired.
The LBB took the bullet thru the right wing, tearing it off and destroying it's flight capability. It's onboard systems took note of this, and activated it's self-destruct sequence. Two hundred twenty micrograms of semtex fired, touching off the thirty two hundred micrograms of duodecapylatomate.
The LBB was only seven feet from the suspended tank of degraded military grade CS gas.
Joker was picked up and thrown by the blast, slamming into the wall. He heard something falling, and laughed. "Killed him with a cave in!" He screamed laughing. Then he heard a creaking above him. He looked up, seeing metal shearing, and a 500 gallon tank dropping like the hammer of god.
"Get them to the station!" Selina opened the back door of the car, leaning out to look back. The tunnel was filled with billowing smoke, and she readied her whip.
"Catwoman!" Rocco shouted.
"I'm not leaving him to die!"
"But you'll die too!"
She grinned. "Then I'll save you a place by the fire in hell!" And she was gone up onto the roof.
Batman felt the shockwave, and flung himself into the air, rolling into a ball. It hit him like a ping pong ball, flinging him toward the wall of the house. Then suddenly, there was a pause, as if someone was exhaling, and the new shockwave snatching him back an instant before impact, rolling him. He fell flat, looking at the tunnel, or where the tunnel back into what was called the back 40 had been. That tunnel had collapsed almost to the doors in the sides. The air was thick with smoke, and he slapped on his gas mask.
Batman staggered, only his own innate senses guiding him to the door into the building. He hurried through to the tunnel which was also wreathed in smoke.
"Batman?" Oracle spoke from his earbud. "Batman, answer, please."
"Kids... safe... on oxygen from belt." He gasped out.
"Hold on, help is on the way!" She shouted.
Help... from where? As if she had heard the mental question, Oracle added, "The batmobile is enroute at the speed of heat!"
Four miles ahead, the Batmobile slammed to a stop on the rails for the Red line where they crossed the Blue. Oracle wanted to scream as the two car 'train' went past headed for safety. Once it was past, she pulled forward. She'd only have a chance to do this once. The jacks that could turn it in place slammed down, and the car spun in place, the tail now aimed down the tunnel toward the hideout.
Oracle was going to put it in gear when she saw someone sprinting toward the car. She growled, cursing as she opened the canopy, and Catwoman leaped up, flipping down the engine compartment to land in the driver's seat. "We might not be in time to save him!"
"We will, or get the body. Punch it!" Oracle slammed it into gear, praying she got it right. She pulled out all the stops, and the Batmobile reached 120 miles per hour in reverse. She watched the sonar system, the pings hitting the walls, the rails, the station!
She slammed on the brakes, the Batmobile screamed to a stop, then the rear slammed into the retaining wall at the end, Catwoman bouncing back in the seat and shouted in delight. "There goes my insurance premiums!" Oracle moaned.
The canopy opened, and Catwoman leaped onto the station platform. She ran frantically, guided by Oracle to his transponder. Batman lay at the kitchen end of the hall, hand still reaching toward freedom. She ran back to the downstairs linen closet, and grabbed a table cloth, flipping the limp body onto it. Then, legs and arms screaming, began to drag him to safety.
The entry hall was a pit of smoke, "Oracle, where in the hells is the door from here? his air is done, and I have only three minutes left! Then we're down to filters!"
As Oracle guided her through the smoke, Catwoman kept up a monologue as she dragged him toward the car. "Damn it, you are not going to die here. God Damn it, you are taking me home, we're having a good dinner, and then I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. After all these years, if you die on me now - I'll throw you in a goddamn Lazarus pit, you hear me? I want to get laid tonight!" She screamed, dragging him forward.
The air was thick with smoke, and she knew if it wasn't for her own mask, she would already be dead. Only Oracle's gentle 'right right, straight back, now left' leading until she almost fell off the platform beside the car. She pulled him around, and used her skills to flip him into the car. As soon as he was in, she leaped, flipping past him to the driver's seat. She put the car in gear. "Oracle!"
"I'm on it." The car squealed into motioned. Catwoman sat back, unable to actually control the vehicle as it raced forward. She heard a mumble, leaning toward the passenger. "What was that?"
"Selina?" She bent over him He gasped. "Not tonight... I have a headache."
"Oh you!" She kissed him.
Oracle sighed, tapping a connection. "Wayne Manor."
"Alfred, he's on the way home. With company. expect two for the night."
"Very good miss Gordon. Shall I prepare a guest room, or merely lay extra towels in Master Bruce's shower?"
"The extra towels, definitely."
"Ah. I'll prepare Ms. Kyle's favorite... are the children safe? Yes? Then I'll open the Bianchi as well." As he disconnected, Alfred dialed another number. "Hello, Luigi's? Alfred Pennyworth here... yes, I'd like to order an entire cheesecake, delivered before six PM tonight... Yes, I'll pay the rush charge, Thank you!"
Oracle flipped back to the car's access. "Oh, and Bruce, about the car..."
Commissioner James Gordon looked over the station as the SWAT teams deployed. "Contact GTA! Reroute all trains passing through Rue De Lafayette Station until further notice." There was a thunderous boom. "What the hell?"
"Sir?" The SWAT lieutenant took off his headset. "It's... you. Asking to speak to you."
"WHAT?" He snatched the headset. "This is Commissioner Gordon. Who is this?"
"My name is Oracle, Commissioner. I assist Batman electronically. There is a serious Hazmat situation from degraded CS gas at the hideout location."
Gordon rubbed his face. "Oh, Christ. Are the kids out? How much, and in how large a space? And do you have the precise formulation?"
"Not at this time, Commisioner. However it was originally bought by the Oscar Cobblepot in the 30s or forties. Scanning military records. Stand by."
Gordon put his hand over the microphone. "Lieutenant. Prep for Hazmat exposure. Military CS, sixty years old plus. I have no idea what it'll have rotted into by now."
"The hostages will be arriving in a few moments. The reported formulae that it might be are arriving in your HAzmat team's inbox right now."
"Understood, Oracle. What about the kids?" As he asks there was a shout.
"I got lights! Inbound vehicle!" every weapon came up.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Gordon roared. "DO NOT FIRE! Those are the kids!"
"Be advised, Two criminals are with them, and will be surrendering upon arrival. They actively assisted Batman, Catwoman, and Poison Ivy in getting them out."
"Understood, Oracle. Lieutenant. One man each car will be surrendering. See to it."
"Yes, sir!" The lieutenant spoke, directing his men.
Two cars rumbled in, and he could hear diesel engines. They stopped, and the doors opened. "Don't shoot! We surrender!" A man shouted, walking out, hands up. Another came from the second car. "Catwoman and Batman asked us to get the kids out!"
Cops came forward, shoving them down. Then suddenly there was a rush as men and boys came out of the cars.
Gordon turned away from his men. "What about Batman and the Joker?"
There was a long pause, long enough that Gordon feared the reply. "Unsure at this time. Batman is being assisted by Catwoman as we speak. Joker was inside the blast radius of the fuel air explosion."
Hopefully the bastard is dead this time, he thought. His voice firmed up. "How long is the tunnel? And we were warned about morlocks?"
"They should be fleeing the toxic smoke. Suggest shutting down Red line until Hazmat has cleared it."
"That will take hours!"
"Perhaps I might be of assistance, Commissioner." He spins, and sees Penguin.
As much as he wanted to slap the cuffs on the pompous little man, Gordon merely looked at him sourly. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Penguin offered a thumb drive. "I had my accountant check the books from the period. Purchase orders from my grandfather's accounts. He purchased two thousand gallons of CS3, the first reasonably stable tear gas agent. By now, it will have irretrievably degraded, and I have that data here as well.
"I have hazmat teams in full MOPP gear standing by at the junction of the old Blue line tunnel and the Red line intersection."
"Why didn't you call my office with this?"
"I did. Actually your new secretary thought I was a prankster. She informed me you were in the field, and everything was under control, Commissioner. Since we all know just how reliable that bit of boilerplate can be, I thought to come in person, as a precaution." He waved toward the stopped cars. "And those belonged to my grandfather, and therefore now belong to me. You'll need to process them, of course... Ah. I'm glad to see the children are safe. They are ALL safe, I hope?"
"We don't know yet."
Penguin pursed his lips. "Then I shall have my team advance without delay. If they were exposed, but can be brought out quickly, there is hope. With your permission, of course, Commissioner. Far be it from me to interfere. I will also not quibble concerning your officers investigating the scene... provided, of course, they are all wearing body cameras. There is a large fortune in comestibles and vintage cigars in there; several tens of millions of dollars at least."
"And how are you sure of that?" Gordon asked suspiciously. "Are you saying my men are thieves?"
"There is a man who was working for Joker who contacted me about a finder's fee. After all it is lost property of my family. I have the inventory of the mansion, you see." Gordon looked at the tablet, and the list. Some of them were drinks he had never seen in his life.
" And as for your men? Nothing of the sort, Commissioner. But you know as well as I that things of this sort often grow legs. This precludes any possibility of suspicion down the line. Merely thinking ahead. After all, every man has his weakness, and I wouldn't wish to tempt them overmuch."
Gordon handed the tablet back. "Most of them wouldn't even know the distillers involved. I don't know most of them myself." He looks at the dates. "But if that MacAllen is as old as this says, I might want to sample it. For safety purposes of course."
Penguin's eyebrow rose and then he smiled. "I see we have something in common. As it happens, the Policeman's Charity Benefit is coming up. How do you feel about a private tasting room? I would, of course, offer - say - fifty thousand to the fund for the privilege? All proceeds to go to the fund as well." He waved it off as if dropping perhaps a quarter million dollars was a daily affair.
"Very generous, both the money and the offer."
"It's quite an opportunity, as well. Think about it, sir; we have other business right now." Penguin pulled out his cell phone, and hit a speed dial button. As soon as it was ringing, he set it to speakerphone.
"Your men can proceed. But don't enter the hideout until I have my own men in hazmat gear to accompany them." Gordon told him
"Wren here."
"One moment my dear." He raised his voice. "Understood. My grandfather so enjoyed his traps on his old homestead, so I suggest we use the cars to proceed when it is safe." He spoke up. "Wren. Tell Crisis Management it's a go, as soon as the Commissioner arranges police escort. Joker is still unaccounted for; make sure they know that as well."
Penguin held the phone up so Gordon could hear the response. "Sure thing, sir. They are sealing the Red line tunnels and the old Blue line tunnel, rigging up exhaust fans and pressurized tankers to take the gas for disposal right now.
"It's good to have competent people, I always say, eh, Commissioner?"
A SWAT officer came over. "Commissioner. We've spoken with the ArchBishop; he's protesting the arrest of the two perpetrators, sir. Oh, and the count is confirmed; all the children are safe. Only Batman and Catwoman are unaccounted for.
"No doubt." Gordon looked over the scene as the hostages gathered to be checked by EMTs. "Now if only Batman would call."
"Mm. Tragic if they were lost..." Penguin muttered. Oddly, he sounded completely sincere. "To think he needed the help of criminals to pull this one off." There was wailing, then the Batmobile raced by on the outward bound tracks.
"GTA has been notified of the emergency tunnel closures, Commissioner." The lieutenant reported.
"Understood." Gordon replied.
"If the ArchBishop is arguing on the behalf of the men involved, then there likely is more to this than meets the eye, I would say. Ah - do you have the identities of the two men, perchance?
"Langarazetti and Sands, sir." The Lieutenant answered distractedly.
"Why do you want to know Mr. Cobblepot?" Gordon asked.
"I was contacted by Rocco Langarazetti, Commissioner; it's how I learned of this affair in the first place. His last message was begging for aid in rescuing the choir. I owe the man a very substantial finder's fee if he survives. And the city owes him a debt of gratitude for his actions in this regard. Is he here? I wish to shake his hand in gratitude for the lost items."
One of the children was being followed by a pair of hyenas. He asked the man beside him something. Then he knelt, speaking rapidly in the same language, followed by "Har-Lee. Find her." There was a yipping sound, and the two forms leaped down onto the roadbed, and took off down the Blue line tunnel.
