Gotham morgue was sterile and minimalist, even by morgue standards. Deaths were frequent with a population so large and the even higher crime rate. Even though such tragedies had been lessened as of late, the efficient and well-funded institution still remained.
Gordon found the assistant medical examiner at her desk outside the largest and most used autopsy room. She had the manner of one who was purposefully ignoring absolutely everything around her except her work, and while this was no different from her usual behavior, the lack of her polite greeting was telling. Gordon smirked to himself as he passed her and entered the next room.
The room seemed still, silent, and seemingly empty, which was surprising given that it's only living occupants was standing in plain sight.
"We've seen this before," Gordon said, coming to stand beside the table, snapping medical glove in place as was his habit.
"The skull fracture is new," said Batman. "The grin looks similar, but the cause is new also."
Gordon looked down at the body in question. The mid-thirties male looked fairly typical, except for the ghastly grin the stretched his face and the bloodied indentation in his forehead.
"How is the cause different?" asked Gordon as he looked down at the file left open beside the autopsy instruments.
"The systems here aren't adequate to locate the differences," said Batman. "The laser spectrometer is a high enough resolution, but the system's analysis isn't fine enough to be distinctive."
"Meaning?" asked Gordon.
"The Joker is using some kind of agent," said Batman. "It is small enough to make it throw the blood-brain barrier, but functions as an enzyme. The first time we came in contact with this agent, it was inducing some sort of humor response, so intense that the individual wouldn't ever stop laughing. At least, not until the agent worked itself out of the victim's system and the receptor proteins could be replaced."
"How long would that take?" Gordon asked.
"Weeks," Batman said, "and the victim might never fully recover. An agent that complex would have countless side effects."
"You said that this agent," Gordon gestured to the John Doe, "was different. In what way?"
Batman turned a page in the folder.
"This agent isn't simply inducing a permanent humor response," he said. "It's redirecting brain chemistry somehow, overriding the brain's ability to feel pain and turning it into euphoria, into that same kinda of humor response."
"So," Gordon stared at the body. "The damage was self-inflicted like the report said?"
Batman grimaced, "He literally beat his head against a wall until he died, thinking it was hilarious. This has Joker written all over it, even if we didn't know about the first agent."
"But how is he making it?" asked Gordon. "Wouldn't you need a chem lab for something like this? Supplies?"
"More than that," Batman said, closing the file. "You would need equipment, one of the most advanced bio laboratories in the area, degrees in biology and chemistry, research. This isn't a little side gig the Joker has going on. This is a long-term project with a very specific goal. And I'm going to figure out what."
Gordon nodded looking down at the body, "I wish we knew his name, could notify his family."
"Marcus Hudson," echoed the Batman's voice. Gordon looked up and he was gone.
Bruce hopped onto the Batcycle, wishing that it went faster. The new prototype vehicle Lucius had put together, a majority of which was composed of components created by Earl Cooper, was currently being built in modules at a dozen different off-site locations, some of which were off the grid, underground, even nefarious. It would be completed in a matter of days, if not hours, and Bruce would be glad when it would be. Aside from being capable of driving itself, the large vehicle could function more effectively at allowing him to interface with his central computer. He would have a mobile satellite terminal, which he could use on the move, faster and safer than the one vehicle he used now.
As he was thinking this, he received an alert from the central computer. He recognized the alert tone; one of his search protocols had reached a standstill. It needed more information or was ready for him to view its findings.
"Audio output," whispered Bruce over the rush of wind and the engine's rumble.
"Audio output engaged," said the digitized voice. "Search complete."
"Relay results," said Bruce.
"Unable to comply," said computer. "Pandora Protocols are currently activated."
Bruce took a long breath. The Pandora Protocols were something he and Lucius had gone over in detail, meticulously creating the system to the best of their combined abilities. Bruce had no qualms about local officials. He was politically beneficial to most officials in Gotham and not doing enough to merit stopping or otherwise tracking him down, even if they had the civil might to try. However, if he began to affect the status quo on a federal level, moved onto a national playing field, he would start getting the attention of those who could potentially interfere with his work. And while that would be inconvenient, Bruce didn't yet have a plan in place to deal with dodging federal inquiries or investigations. Pandora Protocols prevented him from stepping into the more dangerous arena until he was ready or needed to.
"State search tag," said Bruce.
"LexCorp," stated the computer.
Bruce leaned on the accelerator.
Bruce had already done an information sweep of LexCrop systems. The hack was complicated and problematic, but in the end, he didn't think he had gotten anything Luthor didn't want him to find. He had learned that LexCorp had a variety of satellite facilities all over the world, at least two per continent, including Antarctica, that were doing testing with or on metahumans, trying to create them, reproduce their innate talents or abilities, or to negate their powers. It was the foundation for the LX program, a robot capable of combating metahumans and protecting human life. But Bruce knew better. The fact that these machines could not be subdued by conventional means and had massive potential as weapons were not lost on him. And, unless he was mistaken, he was about to discover the military's interest in these robots.
He entered the cave around dawn, one of the latest nights he had had in some time. He had less than three hours sleep in the last forty-eight, and he was starting to feel every waking moment of it. Clearing his head, he secured the cycle before racing to the computer. He pulled off his gloves and cowl, deftly rubbing the contacts out of his eyes. Standing in front of the computer, he said aloud, "Cancel Pandora Protocols."
Even without a plan to escape federal retribution, Bruce knew that this situation had too much potential dangerous not to take the risk. Two deep tissue palm scans, two retina scans, a face scan, and a verbal passphrase later, the Protocol was deactivated and the information was available.
"No!" Bruce said aloud, sometime later. It was clear what was happening. According to the restricted military file, an LX5 robot had battled with Superman, something Bruce recalled hearing about and was unable to give much thought at the time. But what had not been revealed to the public was that the fight had allowed Luthor to analyze, not only Superman's combat abilities and tactics, but Superman himself as well. His body proved to be impervious to most known methods of scanning, but the material his uniform was made from and how he fought was largely beneficial in designing and creating the LX6. The new design had proved themselves capable of restraining Superman, as showcased by a brief video clip of seven of them holding him at bay. Bruce didn't even need to read the rest of the information to know what was coming next.
"Master Wayne?" asked Pennyworth as he came into the room. "Have you been up all night again, sir?"
"Alfred," said Bruce, "get me Lucius. The military is going to make a move on Superman."
Pennyworth did as he was told, dialing as he said, "A move, sir?"
"They think that they have a method to stop him by force," said Bruce. "They are confident enough to play their next hand, but Lex Luthor has a better hand and enough chips to take them all in."
"Hello," came Lucius voice from the speaker.
"Are we on the secured line?" asked Bruce.
"Yes, sir," said Pennyworth.
"Lucius," Bruce went on. "I need you to get to either here or the Wayne Tower subbasement, whichever is closer. I need to search through a lot of classified information and do it without being noticed. The nation's power structure relies upon it."
"I'm on my way," said Lucius. "What are we looking for?"
"When the military is going to arrest Superman," said Bruce.
There was a long pause, "You won't need to do the search."
Before Lucius could go on, Bruce pushed over to a free screen and brought up the news feed. It was happening now; Luthor and General Lane were announcing publicly that they were calling for Superman's arrest, and there was nothing Bruce could do to stop it.
"Shall we begin arranging to get you there, sir?" asked Pennyworth, and Bruce shook his head.
"I have nothing in motion, Alfred," said Bruce. "The best I could do is stall. There isn't time to do more. I just have to hope that what Luthor has in mind isn't permanent while I think of some-"
The newsfeed changed. It went from Luthor and Lane to a video, airing online, of The Joker.
"Not now!" Bruce nearly snarled.
"Greetings, you fun-loving folk of Gotham!" cackled the Joker. "Joker here! And I would love to invite you to my little party! We will dance! We will party like there's no tomorrow! Because, for many of you, there won't be! Now, you have got to be wondering, how do I get to such a wondrous local? Well, the good news is, you're already there! Don't bother looking, because the party is coming to you! It's odorless! It's tasteless! You'll know it's there when this happens!"
The shot switches over to a man, laughing, repeatedly smashing his head into a concrete wall in front of him. Every time he does, the gore and laughter increased.
"So," said Joker, "just keep your eyes open and the party is coming to you! It's only a matter of time!"
The video cut out.
"Tracking videos origin," said Bruce, typing away since the video started. "I've got it. It's coming from a building in Midtown."
He brought up police dispatch, "G.C.P.D. is already in route. They should be there momentarily."
He hacked the SWAT head cams as they burst into the room, finding nothing but a laptop hardwired to a server.
Bruce sat back, thinking.
"The video wasn't live," he finally said. "The victim in the video was in the morgue last night. Lucius?"
"I'm here," he said, the call cutting out and his voice now being relayed through the terminal.
"I want you to start working on an antigen for this biological agent," said Bruce. "We have the compound, so your best bet will be creating a vaccine to create antibodies to bind to the enzyme involved. The computer should help you with the binding configurations. It will just need help in deciphering protein folding methods."
"Already on it," said Lucius. "By the way, I have a present for you. It should be arriving any moment."
Before Bruce can do more than retrieve his cowl and gloves and grab another container of contacts, there is a deep hum and he turned to see a large vehicle drive itself into the cave. With a throaty growl, it pulled to a halt perfectly in the designated area for the Batmobile.
"Apparently your computer restructured the construction processes for expedience," said Lucius. The hatch opened.
"Sounds like a perfect chance for a test run to me," said Bruce.
With a leap, he landed, waved the vehicle into action, dawned he accouterments, and took the wheel, speeding towards Gotham, hoping that Clark wouldn't do anything stupid.