Who's Laughing Now?
Chapter 11
**
The type of jester kept by nobility often reflected the temperament of the lord of the manor. Many fools were rude and licentious while others were well spoken, learned, and capable of acute observations. Still others were hideously deformed or gluttonous beasts. –The Fool Throughout the Ages
Robin was sitting on the floor in the hall again, his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd renewed his residence there after returning from the down stairs portion of the manor. He hadn't slept well in a week, and the events of the last evening had caught up with the young man. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes opened and focused on the bedroom.
Alfred was in the process of getting Barbara situated in the cave. She'd ranted and raved until he'd given her permission to assist the current situation from the 'sub-basement,' as Alfred called it in front of others.
It had been decided through little talk and much more action that the cave was more secure than their current surroundings, as the Joker had already been in the house once, but there'd been no evidence found of him as of yet in the 'sub-basement.'
Dick, who'd somehow managed to remain asleep during Barbara's last tirade, was still laying on his back, a broken mess. The bullet had made a clean brake through the bone in his upper arm. His ribs had seen better days. Leslie had previously contemplated keeping the young man awake and suffering, but he'd fidgeted too much as she tried to put his broken body back together, and had medicated him into unconsciousness before leaving with Bruce to tend to Cassandra.
Tim didn't know how he felt about that. Batman had to do what he had to do—but he didn't cherish the thought of being this… unprotected. The last time he'd faced the Joker alone, it had taken nearly a week to figure out how to take him down—and even then he'd needed to be devious and use the element of surprise in his own favor. Now? Surprise was NOT on his side.
Hence his continued and failing efforts to stay awake. He really only needed to manage it until Dick was in the cave too, then he could relax a little. Just a little.
He realized he'd fallen asleep when James Gordon suddenly appeared in front of him. "Where's Barbara?"
How did one answer that, really? "Alfred can--" Oh bloody hell. "He should be back here in a few minutes." He'd gone to help Barbara get herself set up in the cave, and HE could talk to Gordon about it. Robin decided he'd really rather not know anything about anything.
Bruce had left fifteen minutes ago. He should get to Cassandra's hidey-hole in about five. Hopefully he'd get an update then. Hopefully he'd get a little piece of mind, too.
* * *
The green glow of the Cave's computer system was cold and harsh, perfectly suiting the user's mood. "I'll draw and quarter them both," Barbara muttered to herself, getting past the Cray's security system. "I mean, who the hell do they think they are? Then Dick's going to bat his eyelashes and go on and on about how it was for my own good, to save me from the emotional torment--" She stopped muttering as soon as the appropriate files were opened, and she began reading. There certainly was enough paperwork. And at first glance—none of it made much sense.
"I share your sentiments, Miss Barbara," Alfred said as he began his second trip to the evidence table. "I would have also liked to have been informed." That was all Alfred said on the matter, but she supposed he was critical mass angry as well.
She leaned closer to the keyboard, getting the best cursory glance at all the information as she could. Barbara Gordon was not a woman who enjoyed being left behind, no matter what reason was given. Like it or not, she was part of their world. She had inserted herself once as Batgirl, and she'd done so again as Oracle, and neither of those self-righteous bastards was going to shut her out.
Then they got Timmy to do their dirty work for them, hacking into her system, messing with her Arkham feeds—she's figured out what they were doing. The kid was loyal to a fault, and as much as she'd like to lump him into a group with his mentors, it wasn't his fault that Bruce was a bastard, and the man she loved was far too capable of following in his father's footsteps.
What was with the list of contractors? Half of them had been subcontracted to do small portions of the manor during the reconstruction after the quake. . If they had told her what the hell was going on—she wouldn't be playing catch-up now. But that wasn't her knights in dull, mottled armor.
* * *
His parents and Jason were buried in the center of a long, paved path. It was tree-lined, and a comfortable, relaxing place to sit and visit on sunny days. At night, it was hidden by twisting, angular shadows that spiked around the gray stone markers like fierce protectors.
Bruce seldom visited during the day.
The Car came to a quiet, yet hastily made stop at the larger road that connected with said path. The door opened, and a solitary figure quickly surveyed the area, finding no sign of trap or intrusion. Cautiously, the black Bat withdrew fully from the vehicle and melded with the twisting, leering shadows of the full oak trees.
Catching sight of a flicker of yellow from the granite gravestone, he quickly approach, a certain amount of doom catching in his heart.
Stepping past the undisturbed tomb belonging to his parents, he glared at the ominous image before him. Just below Jason's name was a solid, blocky R spray painted upon the stone, similar to the one adorning the restitched costume in the cave—with an ugly X going through it. Below it were the words 'One down, two to go.'
Batman's gut—Bruce's gut twisted. This wasn't a trap. This was a diversion.
Continued in Chapter 12
"Perhaps the Fool represents a part of Lear himself; the part of his mind that knows what he's doing is wrong, and the part that speaks what Lear cannot. It could more or less be called his wisdom, in that case."- Discussions on King Lear
Chapter 11
**
The type of jester kept by nobility often reflected the temperament of the lord of the manor. Many fools were rude and licentious while others were well spoken, learned, and capable of acute observations. Still others were hideously deformed or gluttonous beasts. –The Fool Throughout the Ages
Robin was sitting on the floor in the hall again, his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd renewed his residence there after returning from the down stairs portion of the manor. He hadn't slept well in a week, and the events of the last evening had caught up with the young man. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes opened and focused on the bedroom.
Alfred was in the process of getting Barbara situated in the cave. She'd ranted and raved until he'd given her permission to assist the current situation from the 'sub-basement,' as Alfred called it in front of others.
It had been decided through little talk and much more action that the cave was more secure than their current surroundings, as the Joker had already been in the house once, but there'd been no evidence found of him as of yet in the 'sub-basement.'
Dick, who'd somehow managed to remain asleep during Barbara's last tirade, was still laying on his back, a broken mess. The bullet had made a clean brake through the bone in his upper arm. His ribs had seen better days. Leslie had previously contemplated keeping the young man awake and suffering, but he'd fidgeted too much as she tried to put his broken body back together, and had medicated him into unconsciousness before leaving with Bruce to tend to Cassandra.
Tim didn't know how he felt about that. Batman had to do what he had to do—but he didn't cherish the thought of being this… unprotected. The last time he'd faced the Joker alone, it had taken nearly a week to figure out how to take him down—and even then he'd needed to be devious and use the element of surprise in his own favor. Now? Surprise was NOT on his side.
Hence his continued and failing efforts to stay awake. He really only needed to manage it until Dick was in the cave too, then he could relax a little. Just a little.
He realized he'd fallen asleep when James Gordon suddenly appeared in front of him. "Where's Barbara?"
How did one answer that, really? "Alfred can--" Oh bloody hell. "He should be back here in a few minutes." He'd gone to help Barbara get herself set up in the cave, and HE could talk to Gordon about it. Robin decided he'd really rather not know anything about anything.
Bruce had left fifteen minutes ago. He should get to Cassandra's hidey-hole in about five. Hopefully he'd get an update then. Hopefully he'd get a little piece of mind, too.
* * *
The green glow of the Cave's computer system was cold and harsh, perfectly suiting the user's mood. "I'll draw and quarter them both," Barbara muttered to herself, getting past the Cray's security system. "I mean, who the hell do they think they are? Then Dick's going to bat his eyelashes and go on and on about how it was for my own good, to save me from the emotional torment--" She stopped muttering as soon as the appropriate files were opened, and she began reading. There certainly was enough paperwork. And at first glance—none of it made much sense.
"I share your sentiments, Miss Barbara," Alfred said as he began his second trip to the evidence table. "I would have also liked to have been informed." That was all Alfred said on the matter, but she supposed he was critical mass angry as well.
She leaned closer to the keyboard, getting the best cursory glance at all the information as she could. Barbara Gordon was not a woman who enjoyed being left behind, no matter what reason was given. Like it or not, she was part of their world. She had inserted herself once as Batgirl, and she'd done so again as Oracle, and neither of those self-righteous bastards was going to shut her out.
Then they got Timmy to do their dirty work for them, hacking into her system, messing with her Arkham feeds—she's figured out what they were doing. The kid was loyal to a fault, and as much as she'd like to lump him into a group with his mentors, it wasn't his fault that Bruce was a bastard, and the man she loved was far too capable of following in his father's footsteps.
What was with the list of contractors? Half of them had been subcontracted to do small portions of the manor during the reconstruction after the quake. . If they had told her what the hell was going on—she wouldn't be playing catch-up now. But that wasn't her knights in dull, mottled armor.
* * *
His parents and Jason were buried in the center of a long, paved path. It was tree-lined, and a comfortable, relaxing place to sit and visit on sunny days. At night, it was hidden by twisting, angular shadows that spiked around the gray stone markers like fierce protectors.
Bruce seldom visited during the day.
The Car came to a quiet, yet hastily made stop at the larger road that connected with said path. The door opened, and a solitary figure quickly surveyed the area, finding no sign of trap or intrusion. Cautiously, the black Bat withdrew fully from the vehicle and melded with the twisting, leering shadows of the full oak trees.
Catching sight of a flicker of yellow from the granite gravestone, he quickly approach, a certain amount of doom catching in his heart.
Stepping past the undisturbed tomb belonging to his parents, he glared at the ominous image before him. Just below Jason's name was a solid, blocky R spray painted upon the stone, similar to the one adorning the restitched costume in the cave—with an ugly X going through it. Below it were the words 'One down, two to go.'
Batman's gut—Bruce's gut twisted. This wasn't a trap. This was a diversion.
Continued in Chapter 12
"Perhaps the Fool represents a part of Lear himself; the part of his mind that knows what he's doing is wrong, and the part that speaks what Lear cannot. It could more or less be called his wisdom, in that case."- Discussions on King Lear
