Chapter 15:
Joker froze when he noticed movement near the front of the State Pen. There was nowhere for him to hide – no buildings or trees or anything! The only chance he had of not being seen was in the form of prickly, yellow weeds lining both sides of the road.
Immediately dropping to his stomach, Joker rolled quickly to his left and flattened himself against the ground. The movement he had seen turned into a tall, dark and very familiar silhouette. Joker grinned when he saw a limp head draped over the left arm of the Caped Crusader. A pair of legs, dangling over Batman's right arm, were lazily bouncing rhythmically to the hero's long strides.
The kid was dead. Joker could tell by the way Batman's shoulders were slumped and his head hanging down. The villain was hard-pressed to keep in the maniacal cackle of glee. But the hero would be able to hear it – Joker was only fifteen yards away – so he contained it. There would be time for that later.
Anticipation filled the man's body. Batman probably wouldn't try to hide his emotions in this situation, especially since he thought he was alone. Joker was going to be the first villain – maybe even the first person – to see the emotionless façade crumbled in grief.
The Batmobile roared to life, something hard slammed into the back of Joker's head, and the villain's world went dark.
Conall O'Reilly watched from the safety of his spot – crouched around the corner of the barbed wire fence that surrounded the State Pen. He was completely engulfed in shadow and had no fear of being seen. Joker had crept right past him, holding a small vial and mumbling something about cheating death.
When he saw the Caped Crusader holding what looked like a limp body, Conall's eyes widened. The only person Batman would be carrying out of the State Pen was Robin. And the sidekick appeared to be dead.
"No," he growled softly. "That was my job."
'Cheating death'.
The words echoed in Conall's brain. Perhaps whatever was in that vial could bring someone back to life…or keep someone alive after faking his own death. How else could Joker have escaped so easily? Security in the morgue was lax – dead bodies didn't really need guarding – so that would be the perfect place to begin an escape attempt.
Batman was situating Robin in the Batmobile, so Conall swiftly raced across the road. He was several yards behind Joker, whose eyes were riveted to the scene in front of him. Silently, Conall pulled a knife from his back pocket, crept up behind the villain and slammed the handle into the back of the man's head.
The Batmobile was turning around. Conall grabbed Joker's vial off the ground and raced back to his shadowy spot by the fence. Picking up another, better, version of the bomb that had failed him before, the man drew his arm back and patiently waited. His timing had to be perfect for this plan to succeed.
Batman glanced at Robin, who was so pale and…dead. His gaze shifted back to the road just in time to see a large, circular object fly from the fence on his left. It hit the road five yards ahead and exploded just as the front end of the Batmobile passed over it.
The vehicle's front bumper shot up, its weight threatening to flip it over the back end. Batman pushed the Automatic Weight Balancing button and the front end dropped heavily onto the asphalt. But the driver's side back wheel hit the remains of the bomb, sending the Batmobile into a spin.
Batman couldn't straighten out the wheel in time to avoid the collision with the fence. The pole creaked ominously as the Batmobile smashed into it, the strong front bumper of the vehicle nearly bending the metal in half. Throwing his torso over Robin's body, and covering his own head with his arms, Batman tensed in anticipation of the collapse. But the creaking stopped, the pole steadied and the Caped Crusader lifted his head.
With a sigh of relief, the hero sat up and put the vehicle in reverse. Slowly, he backed it away from the pole then put it in park. He got out and walked toward the front end, intending to inspect the damage. Before he could get there, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. As Batman dropped to the ground, an unfamiliar voice with a thick accent whispered:
"Don't worry. I'll bring him back to life before I kill him."
Batman tried to reply with a threat of his own, but every thought faded as his world went black.
Conall grinned as he unbuckled Robin and picked him up. Striding past his darkened hiding spot, the man headed toward his generic car in the visitors parking lot of the State Pen.
Conall's apartment – 30 minutes later:
Nobody had seen him carrying a dead body from his car all the way up to his seventh-floor apartment. The fact that not a single person was out worried Conall, but he was also grateful. Perhaps the sprinkling drops of rain that were about to turn into a heavy shower were keeping everyone inside.
He was standing in his living room, trying to decide what to do with the body. Finally he just knelt where he was and gently placed the lifeless crime-fighter on the floor. Conall didn't want to be gentle but he did want the boy to be alive before killing him. One didn't need to be a doctor to see that Robin was severely injured all over his small body.
Kill.
The word danced in Conall's mind as he stared at the motionless form in front of him. Could he really kill someone, especially a kid? Faolan would be very disappointed in him for all of this. Everything Conall had done to the boy went against the O'Reilly brothers' values. But Faolan was dead, and Robin had killed him. The thought of disappointing his brother fled, replaced with an image of the crushed body of Faolan.
Conall retrieved the vial he had stolen from Joker out of his pocket. Why, he wondered, did the villain have a container of amber liquid with the seal of the State Penitentiary? The stories he had heard about Joker made it clear that the man was capable of getting people on his side. He probably had at least one 'friendly' guard who would have access to whatever was in the vial.
That didn't really matter, though. Conall had it now and Robin was the perfect test subject. The man was unsure, however, because he had no knowledge of the probable drug. How much should he give the boy? What about side effects? Could it bring an actual dead person back to life? Joker had most likely faked his own death but Robin was obviously dead.
He furrowed his brow in uncertainty. Conall hated surprises; he was used to being in control. This, however, was something he couldn't control and the idea of not knowing the end result was making him hesitate.
"Just get it done," he whispered to himself.
With a grimace and a very tentative shrug, Conall opened Robin's mouth and allowed four small drops to slide down the boy's throat. Now, he had to wait.
The tiny yellow dot had all but disappeared. After three and a half hours of hard work, it had finally given up. Just as the light went out, a searing pain raced through Robin's nearly-dead mind. The beam of yellow immediately returned as a fire exploded in his brain. It spread down his head and then dashed throughout his lifeless body. Oxygen flooded his muscles and the ice that was his blood began to crack. Veins and arteries reddened as the blood started streaming through them.
A gasp was torn from his bruised throat as nerves woke up and pain burst into every tiny one. Robin's brain couldn't handle the sudden and overwhelming influx of information. So, it locked itself up, refusing to allow the young crime-fighter to return to consciousness. But his heart was beating, he was breathing and his muscles were twitching of their own volition. Robin was alive.
Conall didn't have to wait long. Only twenty seconds after the drops of liquid had disappeared, Robin's body shuddered and a wheezy gasp flew from his mouth. Blood began trickling from every one of his many wounds, leaving crimson trails on his pale skin.
If Conall hadn't seen it for himself, he would never have believed this. Somehow, someone in the State Pen had created a drug that could bring a person back to life! Robin had been dead – Conall had felt the cold skin and heard the silence that comes from the lack of breathing. He had searched for a pulse after snatching the sidekick away from Batman and had found none. Yet now here the boy was, lying on generic apartment carpet and wheezing!
"Wake up!" the man demanded.
But the young crime-fighter didn't respond – no fluttering eyelids, no sounds of pain, no movement other than the random twitching of awakening muscles.
With a growl of impatience, Conall stood up and strode to his kitchen. He grabbed a dish towel and soaked it under the cold water of the faucet. This would help the kid return to the land of the living. At the very least it would keep the blood from staining the light-tan carpet.
Returning to Robin's side, the man knelt down again and began running the cold cloth all over the boy's body. The white towel was soon pink as it swiped away the tiny rivulets of red still leaking from several of his injuries. Conall took inventory as he washed: broken nose, a couple of broken ribs, lots of bruises, and several lacerations. Most of those were on the sidekick's head; it looked like his head had been slammed onto the corner of something more than once.
Robin was shivering now, the cold water taking its toll on his reawakening body.
"Come on, kid, wake up," Conall muttered.
He felt like he was in a freezer. Robin was cold and in pain. The water was washing away both the blood and his brain's ability to remain sealed. All the locks that were allowing him to remain unconscious were being swept away by what felt like an iceberg swimming lazily around his body.
The towel hit his broken nose and the teenager's eyes flew open. He stared up at an unfamiliar face, both fear and confusion in the light-blue circles.
"Welcome back, sidekick," the face snarled. "Ready to die for your crime?"
Sidekick? What crime had he committed? Questions swirled around his tired brain. None of this made any sense. If he was a criminal, why was he on the floor in what he recognized as an apartment? And if he was supposed to die for whatever crime he had committed, shouldn't he be in a prison?
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't und…"
His sentence was interrupted as a tidal wave of agony crashed down his entire body. Robin tried to scream away the pain but the only sound that came out was a whimper. The face above him grinned then suddenly disappeared. Something warm grabbed his upper arms and then he was yanked off the floor.
The teenager's body wasn't prepared to accept any weight. Conall tried to stand him up but Robin's legs refused to help. With a sigh of irritation, the man shoved the boy onto the couch.
"Do you know who I am, laddie?" Conall asked.
"No," Robin answered hoarsely.
"Do you know who you are?"
"No," the teen admitted.
Conall sighed again. There was no way he could kill someone who knew nothing about what had happened. Robin was supposed to pay for murdering Faolan but if he didn't remember killing him then there was no point. The boy wouldn't understand why he was dying and that was unacceptable. Conall wanted the sidekick to know exactly what was going on.
Of course, being dead for a few hours had probably messed with the kid's brain. Maybe he would remember after some time. If it took longer than two days, however, Conall was going to go back to Ireland. He couldn't avenge his brother if Robin couldn't remember.
Outside the State Pen:
Batman sat up with a grimace of pain. He gently probed the back of his head, wincing when his fingers touched the large bump now residing there. A sound came from behind him, so the Caped Crusader slowly stood up and looked around.
Joker was sitting on the ground a few yards away, holding his head in his hands and groaning softly. Batman remembered Commissioner Gordon's frantic call and that made him remember that Robin was dead. Glancing back at the Batmobile, the hero was shocked to see the passenger seat empty. Robin couldn't get up and walk away by himself but who would have taken him? Obviously not Joker.
"O'Reilly?" Batman murmured.
That was a possibility. He was, after all, the man who had started this whole mess. But Robin was dead. What was O'Reilly going to do with a dead body? He wanted revenge but that was now a moot point.
"Where's your dead bird, Batsy?"
Joker's whiny voice was soft but still as irritating as ever. Batman could actually understand why Robin had decided to just punch the guy in the face. That was something he really wanted to do right now, but he would have to settle for returning him to the State Pen.
Batman walked over to Joker, who was now attempting to stand up. One of the lights from the border of the State Pen was shining on the villain's face. The Caped Crusader grunted in satisfaction when he saw that both eyes were swollen and there were bruises everywhere.
"Did somebody steal him?!" Joker exclaimed then winced and lightly patted his broken nose.
Refusing to answer, Batman whipped out his Bat-cuffs and slapped them around the wrists of the villain. The man whimpered when the hero 'accidentally' roughly pushed an elbow into the ribs of the skinny body.
They began walking toward the entrance to the State Pen, Batman holding the Batcuffs and Joker forcibly following. Actually, Joker was limping but Batman pulled him along, intentionally taking extra-long strides. The Caped Crusader wanted the villain to be in as much pain as possible. Robin would have rolled his eyes at Batman's actions but…Robin wasn't here.
"No funeral for the Boy Blunder," Joker mumbled, his tone smug. "Poor, poor Batsy; couldn't even protect Robbie's lifeless body."
Batman grimaced and internally growled. He was not going to allow this murderer the satisfaction of seeing any sort of reaction from him. Pulling a little harder, the hero hurried them up to the closed gate and pushed the button, notifying the guards of a visitor.
An old guard slowly ambled out of the nearby guardhouse.
"Batman?!" he exclaimed as he reached the gate. "And Jok…I thought Joker was dead!"
"I was!" Joker shouted with glee. "But now I'm alive and well!"
"For now," Batman growled softly.
"Not exactly well," the villain whined. "I'm injured because of this guy."
Joker nodded his head toward Batman, who impatiently waved his hand at the guard. The old man understood and strolled back to his guardhouse. He pushed some buttons and twisted some knobs and then the gate slowly swung open.
Roughly yanking on the Bat-cuffs, the Caped Crusader strode to the front door. It was open, the old guard having notified the inside guards of the hero's imminent arrival.
"Welcome back, Joker."
Lt. Copple was waiting in front of the desk, Lt. Muschamp right beside him. Their expressions were grim and rage was simmering around the edges of their eyes. Joker had killed not only a hero, but a teenage hero!
"Top floor, Batman?" Lt. Muschamp snarled, his anger directed at the villain.
"I have no desire, at the moment, to 'speak' with him," Batman growled. "If he needs to go to solitary, that's up to you."
Batman shoved Joker at the two lieutenants then turned around and strode out the door. Lt. Copple grabbed the Bat-cuffs and Lt. Muschamp circled behind the villain.
"What do you think, Joker? One week or two? And don't forget that inmates in solitary get apple slices and small bags of water for every meal," Lt. Copple stated as he began pulling the villain toward the stairs.
"No they don't!" Joker exclaimed. "Peanut butter sandwiches! Warden Crichton's rule!"
"Didn't you know?" Lt. Muschamp stated calmly from behind the villain. "Warden Crichton isn't here right now. Also, somebody might have mentioned that those are what you told him to give Robin."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Joker protested. "I'm not in charge of what anybody gives to anybody else!"
"Give it up, they all confessed," Copple growled as he yanked a little harder.
Muttering under his breath, the villain stumbled up the stairs toward solitary. Muschamp 'gently' pushed from behind. Seven floors later, Copple opened the door to solitary and pulled Joker into the hallway.
"I think you should put me in cell number 4!" the villain crowed triumphantly.
Without a word, Lt. Copple let go of the Bat-cuffs and strode to the computer. He typed in the normal password and the steel door to cell number 3 creaked open.
"Enjoy your stay," Lt. Muschamp snarled as he shoved Joker into the small room.
"You gotta take off these cuffs!" the villain exclaimed.
"Darn," Muschamp stated coolly. "I don't have the key!"
He slammed the door shut and Lt. Copple created a new password:
"In memory of Robin, the Boy Wonder."