UPDATE 2013: This chapter has been edited after my long hiatus. After re-familiarizing myself with the plot, new ideas popped into the mind and decided to explore. The essence of the story is THE SAME, but scenes have been re-imaged and dialogue improved to make this a more cohesive story. Hope you like the changes.
Author's note: Happy St Valentine to all my readers! Like promised, I'm trying to post often, so here is your new chapter. Things are starting to get a little complicated (and heated) for the Bat and the Jester, leading to another encounter in the real NEAR future. Hopefully this little web I'm weaving is enough to grab your attention a little longer.
Want to take a moment to say something to those out there who has set this story in their alerts and favs. You guys make writing worth while, thanks a million for your support and love. Also thanks to those silent but faithful readers that I know are out there. Hope I fullfill your expectations with the story.
One last thing. For me, Batman/Joker slash is a OC issue, and as such I needed to make tweaks here and there in the continuity to see the plot fit my ends. Having said this, though I have tried to remain as in character as it has been physically possible, I also wanted to add a certain realism to the feelings involved in the story. After all, this characters are "alive" in my story and I want to see them as three dimensional beings rather than comical flat caricatures. I also wanted to give them a fresh re-interpretation, that you might not find in canon, so don't expect these characters to completely reflect their comic book personas (though I have tried to get them as close as I could). I also took liberties with other characters and gave them a totally different twist, not to demeanor their value as characters but to add a litte...mystery to their auras. A kind of 'what if?' if you would.
This is a piece of fiction, intended for entertaining purposes, not as the definite Joker fiction standard. PLEASE, respect my reinterpretations of this characters and my apologies to those that might not aggree with them. Maybe this story is not for you. But if I have made you all a little curious, be my guest and keep on reading, for I am promising more surprises in the future.
Remember, we writers can't live on air, but we do live on your feedback. Feel totally free to share your opinions and criticism and though this is old...also feel free to correct my grammar. Still BETA-less, I've really tried my best to keep the grammar clean, but I'm far from perfect (English is MY SECOND language, so my excuses to the grammar nazis). One thing I will ask though. Do not use the reviews to insult or belittle, as for those hardly make us any better authors. Now I will shut up and let you enjoy this chapter...
DISCLAIMER 1: Batman and related characters are owned by DC COMICS
DISCLAIMER 2: There will be situations that call for MATURE LANGUAGE and SITUATIONS including some EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Please be warned and read judiciously.
Chapter 25: Wicked Truths
It was past three in the evening when Joker arrived at the meeting place designated by Black Mask: the Offices of Morton Fitzgerald attorney at law. The lawyer, of well known dubious affairs, had managed some of Mask's business until his boss' reported death. After that, Fitzgerald had spoken with authorities about going straight and they had left him alone, but now that Mask was back, the only way the attorney could repay the many 'favors' was lending his office for the gangster's business once more with the promise from Black of course that the police would not touch him.
"Sit down Eddie," Joker snarled as he pushed Nigma into the lawyer's office, making him stumble over one of the chairs in the reception area."You look half dead."
"Look Joker, I don't know how much Galindo paid you to kill me, but…I can double it." The dread in Edward's voice was obvious. "Why don't we discuss this?"
"Discuss what? It's clearer than blood...excuse me…heh heh...water."Joker giggled maliciously.
"I didn't tell them anything I swear. Galindo is safe, and I don't want to end up like Plummet-."
"Plummett…hmmm," the Jester said resting his chin on a crooked finger and concentrating hard. "Isn't that the wacko who used to see things and talk to thin air in his cell? HEH! And they call me crazy."
"Yes, the guy you killed."
"Oh no, no. I didn't kill Plummet. Actually I didn't even know he was dead. Pity. He and I would have made great friends." Joker could not hold a playful giggle.
"If you didn't, who did then?"
"Beats me, chum," Joker was quick in dismissing Nigma, "You were my personal project, a kind of initiation, if you may call it that."
"This is your way of getting even from that solitaire game you lost…isn't it?"
"Oh, no, no. That was not you." Joker responded as he straightened his jacket. "The Aces finally told me it was the Jack of Spades' idea. He joined with the Queen of Hearts and convinced the rest of the deck, including the Jack of hearts who I thought was my friend, to play along and...well, you know the rest. I burned the cards that night…all of them." The Jester chuckled. "That's what you do with a bad deck."
Nigma gave the Clown an enigmatic look. "Come on, I even helped you with your wife's murder. Doesn't that count for something? You owe me, Joker." The Jester's eyes sparkled as they narrowed and his smile widened. This was just too much fun.
"Really, and how you want me to pay you…cash, government bonds or lead?"
"All right. If you want me to beg for my life, I will, because I don't want to die." Nigma said kneeling in front of the Clown. Joker covered his mouth with a gloved hand and laughed softly.
"Die? What's going on here, gentlemen?" Black Mask inquired as he entered the room and saw the strange scene.
"Oh, he's just praying to the Lord of chaos." Joker lifted his arms high above him and started to laugh loudly. "You have my blessing Eddie. Please leave your offerings by the door. Remember I like white chocolate truffles."
"You're not going to kill me?"" Edward snapped while Black exchanged curious looks with his associate.
"After all I went to get you out, you crazy? Though seeing you on your knees is definitely priceless!" Joker shrugged and stuck his tongue out mockingly.
"You fucking son of-" Nigma started to say ready to lunge at the Jester when he turned to Mask who just seemed bemused by the whole situation. "Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be dead, Black?"
"I heard someone was spreading that rumor." Mask responded.
"No, really. Dead. The cat-lady…POW! Bullet in your head. Is this one of your jokes Joker?" The Jester shook his head and sat on one of the indigo satin chair in the room where he quietly started to shuffle a deck of cards. "Then how is it-?"
"I shall leave that riddle to your genius, Mr. Nashton. Right now we have more important things to discuss."
"Nigma...I don't go by Nashton anymore."
"Right…Mr. Nigma. You have been selected from a fortunate few to join a club destined to take this city by storm, and claim what is rightfully yours. Riches beyond your dreams and power beyond your imagination."
"I'm not completely sure of what you're saying, Mr. Black." Nigma said adjusting his orange hospital jumper as if it was an expensive suit. "If that's who you really are."
"I can assure your eyes don't deceive you, Edward and I will explain everything to you after you have changed to more appropriate attire. Please follow Thomas to get you new clothes while I have a word with your rescuer."
Nigma thought it over for a moment, looked at the Joker then back to the gangster and noticing the impatience in Black's body language he agreed to leave the room with his escort. Once alone, The Mask walked over to where the Jester had started to deal his deck.
"Told you I could do it with my eyes closed," the Jester said without lifting his gaze, "but you can feel free to celebrate my genius because you know well I deserve it."
"Sometimes, your ego indeed gets on the way of your genius, Joker."
"Would you please let go my ego?" The Jester responded with an angry stare. "Tell me who else could have retrieved your green 'package' from the Asylum in the middle of the day from under Gordy's moustache?"
"You have indeed, managed to impress me."The Jester studied Mask's inscrutable skeleton face.
"Sooo...I'm in." Joker said in his unmistakable falsetto, winking at the gangster mischievously
"Let's say that you have made a strong case for your admittance to the club. I could use a man of your talents." Joker jumped from his seat and wrapped his arms tightly around the ghoulish gangster who cringed and pushed the Jester back onto the chair. The smell of sulfur invaded Joker's nose again as he snorted. "What intrigues me is what you really want to get out of this, Joker. You said money did not interest you, neither power. What is in it for you then?"
"Pure innocent fun, Skeletor. You should have seen the Bat's face when I delivered your package and retrieved your Riddle Master from under his cape. It was funny seeing him scratch his cowl."
Mask forced a smile and patted the Jester's shoulder. Once more the stench of brimstone permeated the air between them. "You would not play one of your games on me, would you, Joker?
"What and upset my new BFF? That would be…crazy, don't you think?"
Masks eyes narrowed. "Incredible, but you almost sound sane. Appealing to your present non-psychotic state I would like to warn you that playing with me could be a mortal mistake on your part. I don't like jokes, and I don't like double crossers. Do I make myself clear?"
"You need to lighten up, Blackie. See the fun side of death and definitely change deodorant." Joker said fanning his hand in front of his nose.
"Trying to be funny, Clown?"
"No, giving you a tip. Women like manly men with a whiff of natural musk, but your musk…well, that will scare even a vegetable like Ms. Isle."
"I'll be very careful as to who you insult, Joker. In this club, your enemies outnumber your friends. Friendly advice: watch your back at all times and shut up."
"In this club, the only thing my enemies need to fear…is me. Have a reputation, you know?"
"Oh yes. Impulsive, unpredictable, ruthless. Insane. Heard someone even said that your rage is legendary. All the qualities I am searching on a good soldier for the cause. Maybe you are what I need, after all."
"Are you flirting with me, Skeletor?"
"No, just stating your virtues, Joker. You are more than meets the eye, and maybe my strongest ally, if you keep up the good work."
Joker threw an arm around Black's shoulder. "Well, now that we are getting so well acquainted, you would not mind telling your best general why you wanted Eddie Nigma here so bad. Is this part of your treasure hunt?"
"What business I have with Mr. Nigma, is our private business, Joker." Mask responded menacingly.
"Ok, Boss…no reason to abuse my welcome, here but I just never thought of you as a believer in fairy tales. This is not a treasure hunt, is it? I love the way you play, Skeletor."
Mask laughed softly. "And you'll love it even more when you have a chance to play with your favorite rodent. But first, I need one more favor from you."
"Oh no…I'm not your personal gopher, Black. I'm not running a charity here." Joker warned wagging a finger in front of his chest.
"Of course not, but your talents are priceless to retrieve a very important artifact for me. And to show you I trust you, I'll leave you in charge. I don't care how you do it, as long as you get me the artifact."
"Any way I want?" Joker asked incredulously.
"It's your game, Joker. Have fun with it."
"Well, what do you know?" Joker crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. A wide smile stretched across his face.
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was about six thirty by the time Robin and Batman arrived to the cave. Tim was swift in dismounting his bike and waking towards the cave exit while he started taking his mask and cape. Batman emerged from the Batmobile and tried to reach the young hero.
"Robin, wait." He finally called when he realized that Tim was going to be unreachable. The young hero turned, with a disgruntled look in his face as if he had been interrupted from an important mission. "We need to talk."
"Only if you want to talk," Tim snapped back.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You have kept to yourself after that clown had you. I can respect that, Bruce, but when it starts to affect your work, I get worried. And every time I have tried to reach out to you, you just shun me away, even after did all I could do to save you. It's not fair, we're a team."
"Yes we are. And you've always trusted me."
"Trusted? Of course I trust you…but do you trust me?"
"This has not-" Bruce struggled with the words, "It has not been easy for me, but I am back and if I tell you I'm fine, you better trust me on that one. We have a lot of work on now to bring the past back."
"Then why are you still so edgy? You went out the other night, alone…after over a three week hiatus and almost got killed, and no…Selina didn't tell me. I had sources. Then you almost snapped Nigma's head off tonight. What did Joker do to you?"
"Nothing." Bruce took a deep sigh. "It's not important anymore."
"See? That's what I hate about you, Bruce. You went after Nigma like you were trying to vent something out, and when Joker takes him without confronting you, you almost look hurt that you were not part of his game."
"That's not true."
"Who are you trying to fool? Joker went to talk to Vicky about ways to get your attention for who knows what. Weird, but now you're acting as weird as he is. I know you and what I saw at the Asylum was not you."
"I will not tolerate you talking to me like that. I was trying to intimidate Nigma when you decided to risk the interrogation by going off without telling me what you were up to. What if Edward would have stopped talking? It would have all been a waste of time."
"But he didn't. What you want me to do, apologize for getting the job done?" Tim's tone was irreverent.
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "I want you to follow protocol. I have been doing this longer than you."
"Yes, you have and a crazy Clown that scares you enough to keep you out of the streets for weeks. I would expect that of a rookie, but you Bruce? What has Joker done to you, man?"
"TIM!" Bruce yelled then held his breath and started mentally counting backwards. He was really losing his patience with this conversation that was leading nowhere. He needed to focus.
"Don't deny it…and don't deny you were also shocked when you saw that Joker had been at the Asylum too. It's like you were not expecting him to come back."
"What I expected was a little more respect from you. You're under my care." Bruce growled.
"And I expected you to trust me a little more and open up about what bothers you. Family…I don't think you even believe that anymore. Listen to yourself, about to lose it again with me." Drake responded with a disgusted snort as he turned around and headed towards the cave exit. "Look, it's being a long day and I have a lot of homework to do. See ya in the morning, OK?"
Batman stood there, watching the young man disappear behind the large vaulted doors at the cave's exit. He felt an urge of grabbing Tim by an arm and pull him back to finish this conversation, but he knew it would be useless. He could feel the anger inside him, boiling like he had not felt in a long time. Was he really venting at the interrogation? Was it obvious that discovering Joker was behind Nigma's escape bothered him? And why did it bother him in the first place? Because Joker had lied to him. So what? He had lied many other times before.
Bruce pulled off the cowl and paced between the computer and forensic stations. Thoughts were racing through his brain at the speed of light. Joker's confessions and promises…why did they matter so much to him? Joker was a liar, and a demented murderer, not to be trusted. HE. KNEW. THAT. And it was Joker who had made him hide his shame for weeks after- he rushed to find a word to describe his ordeal—the abuse he suffered in captivity. Yes, abuse he had suffered at his white hands. Those hands…that made him feel things he had never felt before…
"Damnit, NO!" Bruce told himself as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the bat-computer station, his stomach tied into a knot. But it had felt…like nothing he had felt before. The Clown Prince of Crime had made HIM feel…special…NO!DIRTY! And he let him. He would even have asked for it. He had also dropped his guard and trusted that lying Jester of Hate and his wish to change. How the hell could he trust that grinning gargoyle? Because deep inside he was so much like him…meant for each other…
"NO! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?" Bruce yelled as he backed off towards the forensic station, holding tightly to the table and looking up at the large Joker card hanging from the cavern's ceiling. He felt betrayed, but why? "God damn Joker, what have you done to me?"
Rage filled him, like he had not felt in a while. And he couldn't focus on anything else but that anger. He pushed the case folders sitting on the forensic table, leaving a mess of papers scattered all over the floor, then kicked the stool holding that new transducer he was working on for weeks. The piece of equipment smashed on the floor.
Not enough chaos. He noticed the box of expensive equipment he kept to use on the now useless transducer. Without thinking it twice, Bruce bent over and grabbed the box, throwing it with all his might against the rocky wall of the cave. Peripherals and portable screens smashed against the wall, and whatever was left intact, finally broke in pieces as it hit the floor.
It was still not enough. He was still irate. He pulled two pairs of batarangs and tossed him with all his might at the large card on the wall perforating both eyes of the oversized Jester picture. He wanted to see that card burn. He thought of the flamethrowers on the batmobile, but reconsidered after realizing how much damage he could do to the rest of the cave. In one last try to relieve this anger, he filled his lungs with air and let out a loud growl that was soon muffled by the screeching of terrified bats that quickly filled the main vaulted dome of the cave.
Once he had let himself free of his anger in the only he could, he slumped onto the floor, panting heavily, and his heart beating in his throat. Short, fast words tried to form between the gasps.
"I'm…(pant)…the…Batman." He said between gasps. "I don't feel…I act. (pant) I can't falter."He panted heavily. "I…am…the…night. I am the Batman."
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Alfred set the breakfast tray gently over the small flat rocky ledge by the cave's back entrance and with a small handkerchief he quickly cleaned up the small amount of coffee that had spilled under the covered breakfast platter while he went down the stairs. No excuse to look sloppy or tardy even to the Master, who could care less for the timely presentation of the plate, but Alfred loved to take care of details.
He picked the tray up again and headed towards the main vault and the computer station when he was surprised by the pieces of equipment scattered on the floor, some of the electronic components smashed to bits. The butler kept on, skipping broken circuits, ground glass and hundreds of pages scattered on the floor under the dome. The forensic station was a mess, and its stool lay on its side against one of the cave walls. He looked high above and noticed there were a few large tears on the large Joker card hanging from the ceiling…and a pair of batarangs could still see embedded in the rock behind.
Over the computer station Master Wayne sat, still costumed, studying files on Joker, Nigma and other criminals Alfred didn't recognize. Trying to not slip on the debris-covered floor, he reached the forensic station where he saw the transducer broken on the floor. He and the master had worked on it for weeks. This didn't look good.
"Good morning Master Bruce. I bought breakfast."
"Thanks Alfred," Bruce responded without even looking down at the butler. His attention was focused on the screen files he was reading. "I'll get it in a minute."
"You are welcome…" Alfred said clearing his throat. "It seems like we had a busy night."
Bruce made a short pause. He knew Alfred and knew he was referring to more than just the investigation. He was also asking about the mess in the cave. That one would be hard to explain. "Yes…um…sorry for the mess, Alfred. I will clean it in a while."
"You will need help with that, I suppose."
Bruce turned to face his butler, when he realized how much of a mess he had done on the cave. How could he have lost his temper like that over something so…inconsequential? The look on Alfred's face was one of sincere concern, and it made Bruce feel very small.
"Alfred, I…"
"Do not worry, sir." Alfred responded simply, as he started to pick up some of the papers from the floor
"No, no Alfred, I can take care of that…"
The Butler stopped what he was doing and looked back at the computer station, his eyes cold and distant. "Do you wish me to leave you alone, Master Bruce?"
The premise hit him like a ton of bricks over the head. He had wanted to deal with this alone and so far the only thing he had been able to accomplish was to isolate himself from the rest of the family. Bruce swallowed hard against his parched throat.
"No." There was a long pause and during that time both men studied each other intensely. "I think I've been alone for too long already."
"You have never been alone, sir." Alfred responded calmly returning to picking papers from the floor.
"Yes I have. Even Tim resents my absence. I'm sorry if I pushed you away too." Bruce sighed. "There is no excuse for this."
"There's no reason to apologize, Master Bruce. You just needed some time to heal your wounds."
"Wounds…" Bruce responded with a sneer. "Those healed a long time ago. What I needed was to heal my soul."
"Excuse me sir?"
"Someone…someone told me, my life…was empty." Bruce paused again. "Batman consumes every single aspect of my existence. Where does that leave Bruce Wayne?"
"I don't understand. You are Bruce Wayne…"
"No, I'm Batman. Wayne is just a curtain I use to pretend someone I'm not."
"I do not think you are giving your mission its merit or you, the respect you deserve."
"I know how important this is Alfred, but I also need to live my life as a normal person. My life is empty, a fake and I even dragged Dick and Tim to this mess. All I live for is the psychos of this city, nothing else matters. What's wrong with me?"
"It's called dedication, sir." Alfred dried his hands on his towel. "And I do not recall you putting a gun at the young Masters' head to follow your mission. They made this decision all on their own."
"Then I see what my life could become, if I let it be engulfed by the anger, the hatred. I see…and almost feel his pain, hurting deep inside him. This very same pain that feeds me to do what I do every night. I don't want that pain to consume me, like it consumed him. I don't want to end my life like him."
"Like whom sir?" Alfred inquired in an obvious loss as to where this conversation was heading.
Bruce looked down to the floor for a long moment, the thought was embarrassing. He knew his enemies inside out, knew what to expect from each one, but his worst enemy had drilled a hole in his armor and sneaked through only to infect him and poison his soul in the vilest way. He wasn't going to let that smooth talk get to him again.
"Someone I shouldn't have trusted in the first place. He can't be more than what he is. I should've known."
"Anybody can be more than what they want to be. You're the living example of that." Alfred approached the computer station gingerly, unsure if his Master needed more space or just a friendly hand on his shoulder. He stopped at the base of the stairs. "Is everything alright, sir?"
"It will be now." Bruce said returning to the files he had left on the computer screen. "Alfred, I'll take care of the cave, don't worry."
"This is going to take some time to straighten up and in case you have forgotten, you're hosting a gala for the Love for Children fund tomorrow night."
"The fundraiser—." He had totally forgotten about the damn charity gala. Bruce slammed the computer console. "I'm too busy with this case Alfred, is there a way to-?"
"Pospone? Impossible, sir. This has been planned for over a month and you have a speech to prepare."
"There is no way I'm going to be able to have that speech in time."
The Butler looked around and sighed. "You will if you start on it right away and let me take care of this, sir. This might be what you so much need. A chance to leave Batman in here for one night and just be…Bruce Wayne.
"Alfred, this case is important…"
"And so are the children depending of the success of this gala. Masters Tim, Richard or Miss Cain can take over for a night. You're not alone sir."
Maybe not, but sometimes I feel like the only man on the face of the world, he thought. Good Alfred, always there for him, as the rest of the family. "Reverse psychology, old friend?"
"Not yet until I mention that Ms. Vale confirmed her attendance to the gala. She's been so worried about you lately. Maybe her company would bring back the spark of dedication that seems to be dwindling in your heart."
"Alfred," Bruce swiveled on his chair to face his friend that had started picking up the mess of papers on the floor. The butler turned attentively, the expression in his eyes serene and fatherly. Bruce smiled. "Thanks."
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Joker stood in the small office he used as a hideout at the abandoned Gaggy's Novelty store in the heart of Gotham's East end. There is where he kept the best of the best of his very recognizable trademark attire. Most of the garments had been handmade to order by tailors that had literally given their last breath to create these masterful set of clothes. Just because he was a murderous psychopath didn't mean he had to dress like a pauper, right? He stared intensely at the four tuxedos Punch and Lou had precariously being holding high above their heads for the last twenty minutes. One of them had his name on it, but he had to figure out which one. Sometimes making up his mind was just impossible…
"Lou, please hold the black one higher. I need to see me in it," Joker yelled at his thug that had started to drag the tuxedo on the floor. "What you think? Black is a classic, but it's soooo boring, even with the checkered board vest and the red bowtie. The purple one on the other hand is so me, but at the same time too….I don't know…old. And the tails are so out…even Joan Rivers would agree." The Jester made a disgusted face, "And everybody has seen me in purple, yellow and green before."
"The black will go well with your…" Lou made a pause thinking his next words, "complexion."
"But I will look like Penguin, and believe me…I I'm not ready to fall that low," Joker turned to look at Punch and the other two tuxedos. "Then there is the red one, and though matching the shoes with the black shirt will be easy, it makes me feel like I'm celebrating Christmas in July. I don't want to look like a tree ornament."
"What about the green one?" Punch asked waving the tuxedo in his right hand. "Goes well with you hair."
"Too leafy. Remind me of Poison Ivy…YUCK!." Joker said kneeling on the large sofa with his chin resting on the soft backrest. "This is too hard…Ok, one last try. Let's switch the vests around and see what we get, 'cause I still have to get it drycleaned."
The thugs started to exchange garments when Joker rose from the sofa and started to pace nervously behind them. Both Lou and Punch exchanged looks and went on their business with the tuxedoes when the Jester tapped on Punch's shoulder and signaled him silently to follow him. In the isolated corner of the room, Joker pulled a very old rusty bronze key attached to a very ornate and delicate key ring with dragons.
"Punch, I need a copy of this key…pronto."
"That's one weird-looking-."
"I know, I know. Pretty, isn't it? But you know people who're good at this and don't ask questions," the Jester saying handing the key to the thug, "and I need it for yesterday. Capice?"
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Oracle checked his contacts on the cryogenics industry and nobody have been seen buying any large amount of equipment for weeks. That was really strange. The suit that Fries had taken for him from the Asylum was equipped with a limited supply of energy and would require him to wear it inside an already cold enclosure. That would restrict his motility and one thing Victor hated was to feel like a caged bird. What was the scientist doing now?
And let's not forget Jonathan Crane. He left with no supply of his fear gas and he needed to get some very specialized chemicals to synthesize it. Why hasn't the psychiatrist gone shopping yet? And the sudden disappearance of Penguin from the public eye made all these moves all the more suspicious. There had to be a connection and someone out there must know something, somewhere about this mystery. She opened her contacts online and started asking questions, then one small light sparked in this darkness.
FRIZZLE01: "Oracle, I hacked into a few specialized suppliers last night and saw that someone has requested a larger shipment tempered glass able to sustain subzero temperatures. Thought it might interest you. I'm uploading the site's web address."
ORACLE: "Thanks, F, I owe you one."
FRIZZLE01: You're welcome, girl. This has something to do with that frozen psycho, Fries, isn't it?"
She hesitated for a moment. Not that people knew Oracle was a guardian of justice and her investigation always resulted in some type of conviction. These after all, were close friends.
ORACLE: "Yes, Fries."
FRIZZLE01: "Good, just kick his frigid ass back to the Asylum. We need the streets safe." That made Barbara smile.
ORACLE: "I will."
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Batman looked at the recordings of Nigma's escape from the Asylum the night before. Picture of Nigma and his escort in the elevator was crisp and clear and then the image went blank, not even static. Security in that wing must have been the first place where Joker attacked…but how?
Bruce walked down to the forensic station and looked at the evidence gathered from the Asylum. One and a half decks of cards, five Joker cards with the unforgetable Jester face printed on the front, Halloween themed confetti and a small round gas bomb. Why did Joker have to leave so many clues of his presence when just the Joker cards would have been enough to sign the deed?
He turned the cards and looked at the design on their backs. The one from security was a full deck with a design in their backs of vines that folded in abstract patterns, while the ones from Nigma's cell were only half a deck with a red and black pattern mirroring each half of the back. The same mirror image style followed on the face of the cards.
Then there was that lonely card with that cryptic message. A message that had so little relation to the scene of the crime, it looked almost like the intermission in a play. To say what?
"I know you're playing with me, Joker." Bruce said to the computer screen, "but you have not told me the name of the game. It's not your usual MO, Clown, especially since the corpses are not piling up. What are you trying to tell me? Your next hit...your next victim?" He finally turned off the forensic station and walking around smalls piles of broken equipment and papers, that Alfred had so diligently grouped together, he left the cave towards the mansion. For the moment, the investigation will have to wait…all because he needed to pretend to be a superficial, self-centered millionaire playboy for the world to believe.
He stopped momentarily at the base of the stairs and looked at the damaged Joker card on the wall. That card was now scarred, like the man it was supposed to resemble. So scarred that he had lost all sign of humanity for a twisted sense of humor were murder was the ultimate punch line. And that same monster, whose effigy now hung as a trophy in his cave, had for once in his life time seen beyond his cape and cowl, deep into his heart and soul. What a twisted turn of fate, for the Jester in his games of lies had touched the reality of the Knight's lonely heart. Looking away, Bruce started his ascend to the mansion level to fulfill his social duties.
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Black sat on his luxurious desk comparing pictures of the inscription on an ancient mask to those of a half disintegrated parchment written in a language that time had forgotten when he was distracted by a knock on the door. He hurriedly gathered all the pictures and hid them from view under the desk.
"Yes?"
"Can we come in, Master?"
Black took a sigh as he set the pictures aside and went to open the door. Gabriel, wearing a ponytail on his snow white hair bowed slightly and entered the office, followed by an associate who repeated the reverence as he walked through the door.
"You look concerned." Black said locking the door behind his associates.
"I am, my Lord. When we went through the list of candidates, we agreed that the Joker didn't fit any of the criteria and his instability made him more of a hassle than an asset."
"You don't have to remind me what we talked about, Gabriel." Black snarled angrily as he walked back to his desk.
"I do understand that, sir, but with all respect…if you remembered, why is he working for us now?"
"That demented clown retrieved Nigma from the Asylum in plain daylight and through an army of police officers, MPs, the bat and his sidekicks. I expected him to be arrested and be locked away, but instead he succeeds flawlessly. Maybe, there are some uses for that psychopathic comedian after all."
"Still, sir…" Gabriel said measuring carefully his complaint. "He's crazy and extremely unpredictable."
"You're starting to sound like Crane now." Black returned the prints into the envelope and closed the lid with a tight knot. "May I remind you that with Plummet gone, our little circle is one man down? The Clown is suitable to take his place."
"But it was your idea to have Rancor take care of Plummet, wasn't it?"
"Plummet was going to find out our little secret sooner or later and then what? Go and tell Gordon…or the Bat? The idiot didn't even have an idea of the power residing inside him. All that darkness wasted away in useless humanity."
"And then the Clown is a better choice because...?" Gabriel started to say when the Black Mask pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it at his associate's head. The thug lowered his gaze. "I regret if my concerns have upset you, Lord Black."
"What upsets me is your lack of faith, Gabriel. It's bad karma, especially when I need all your energies projected onto the success of our mission. Hope I'm not disappointing you as your first boss did?"
"No, no Black. I was just concerned of failing when we are so close to our goals… and success."
"And your concerns are noted," Black responded putting the gun away, his skeletal smile spread wide across his face. "But I assure you…everything is going according to plan and the Joker is not only a man of many talents, but also one of the darkest souls I've met. He'll do fine in our schemes. Now Gabriel, is Mr. Two-face ready for his part on this plan?"
"We've been having a problem with Mr. Dent and his…coin. Apparently the coin doesn't agree with our plans, namely Joker in the payroll, and Two-Face now wants out."
"Idiot…should have known his psychosis would be his downfall. I need that artifact retrieved tonight, before the Bat and his pig friends start putting things together."
"If you allow me to modify the original plan, I will need one of your Hunters to help cure Two-face of his distracting coin-tossing habits." Gabriel said dusting his clothes.
"That will bring a suspicion from the others." Black sealed the envelope with the pictures and looked at Gabriel. "But may be for the better. I sent forth Frykt to help you so make sure Dent is completely focused in my goals."
"What about Fries? How's he faring?"
"Anger could hinder his talent, Lord. He wants the Clown dead, but I was able to sooth his soul for now. I have no idea how long I can contain that anger with the memory of his wife. Even I have limitations, more in this form."
"We might need to influence Victor in a more direct approach. His wife is something we can use. I need my daughter Lŭgen. She'll help us with Fries."
"The Mistress of Lies? Is that wise? I don't like having so many Hunters fluttering around, Black."
"Don't concern yourself with them, they are totally loyal to their father, and even those I did not beget, know better than to challenge my brother or me at this historical moment when they can get their freedom. And since Victor speaks to his dead wife, why not have her talk back to him…on our behalf?"
Gabriel smiled. "Clever, Lord Black. She can be summoned tonight to talk to him out of his murderous mood."
"And she will convince him."
Black Mask grabbed the envelope and headed towards a large portrait on the wall behind him of a medieval town, preparing for the harvest. He slid the portrait aside to reveal a combination safe with a small key port in the middle. The gangster searched deep on the jacket of his suit and on the pockets his trousers. The smile in his face disappeared quickly to be replaced by a snarl, and his eyes started to burn with a red spark deep in the darkness of his pupils.
"Is everything alright?" The thug accompanying Gabriel finally spoke. His voice trembled as if he had broken a sacred rule when he spoke. Black set the manila envelope back on the desk and kept fumbling in the pockets of his suit.
"The key…I can't find the Dragon Key."
"Maybe it is in another jacket?"
"I'm not an idiot, Gabriel. I always carry that key with me and keys don't just disappear into thin air. Without it, I will not be able to retrieve the manuscript," Black snapped when all of a sudden he stopped searching and held to the edges of his desk, breathing heavily. The thought was absurd, but there couldn't be any other explanation. "That sneaky, demented…Gabriel, where's Joker?"