Chapter 2: Predicted Events II
Detective Harvey Bullock is on a long shift that just doesn't want to end. He spent the entire night coordinating the shut down of every dive in Gotham, and followed it up by patrolling the streets for 4 hours to try and disperse anti-Batman mobs scattered throughout the city. Now he's taking over for the Commissioner, who should be at home and asleep by now. 'He's a good man,' thinks the detective, 'but completely wrong about the Batman. Batman's just another nut (sure a brilliant nut, but a nut nonetheless) whose one target happens to be other nuts. It's the cops who keep Gotham from going to hell, and it's the Batman who keeps attracting new nuts out of the woodwork.' Pleased with himself Bullock, unshaved, unbathed, and with a XXXL shirt covered in coffee stains, donut crumbs and sweat, eases back on his desk chair and puts his feet up in an attempt to relax.
A loud voice suddenly rouses him from his stupor, "Detective Bullock, sir!" A young officer comes running up to the now completely alert, and peeved, Bullock.
"What-do-you-want?" replies Bullock through clenched teeth.
"Officer Jensen just reported from his car. He was supposed to take over from Officer Clancy at 0500 hours at the Commissioner's home. But when he got there Officer Clancy was missing and upon further investigation so was the Commissioner!"
"Cripes," was Bullock's only response.
"Sir?"
"Alright, get an APB out on the Commish and Clancy."
"Are you sure, sir? Any reporter listening..."
"Any vulture that's listening to the police channel probably will turn the case into a farce, I know, but it's also the quickest way of getting the word out to the force, and maybe if we find the Commish soon enough he'll still be breathing. While you're at it tell Montoya and Crispus to get a detail together over to the Commish's place. This is their baby and I want results, fast!"
"What about you, sir?"
"Me? I'm headed to the roof." 'It's still dark for another hour,' thinks Bullock, 'maybe he's still out there. Maybe there's still time.' "Damn it," he curses as he runs up the stairs. 'It has to be the Joker. No one else out of Arkham is crazy enough to do this. No one…'
…
Underneath the once majestic but now dilapidated and unkempt Wayne Manor is a cave of fantastic proportions. Within the pitch black cave stir thousands upon thousands of bats, constantly flapping wings and emitting high pitched noises until the sun rises. Below the bats in the heart of the cave sits a weary Batman, head arched back listening to the police broadcasts through his cowl radio. At these moments, when the blackness seems all consuming, his mind drifts into daydream and he remembers how it all began and how the darkness felt that very first time…
"Look Thomas," his mother said as they exited the Monarch theatre after watching the Mark of Zorro, "look at Bruce!"
Bruce was darting around his two parents, excited by the heroics just witnessed, by the daring acrobatics and wonderful swordplay. He was that hero, and he wished that night would never end. His father laughed, "Well Bruce, Zorro himself wouldn't be a match for you right now!"
Suddenly, so suddenly, would Bruce's parents stop his running. Looking up he could see a menacing figure outlined by the street lamp above. The night was too dark to see anything of detail except for the shiny gun reflecting dim light. That moment seemed to last for an eternity.
The man grasped his mother's pearl necklace and pulled. "Let go of her you..." his father yelled as he grabbed the man's arm. Bruce then remembers a spark of light with a loud bang, thunder and lightning, as his father fell.
His mother screamed only to receive the second blast of fire.
Bruce just stood there, his eyes big and sad.
The man then turned the gun towards Bruce's forehead. Bruce could see right into the barrel. "Sorry kid," the man said, and then another flash was followed by darkness…
He awakens in a cold sweat, no longer the scared child. His breathing is hard and laborious as he remembers the nightmare, his gloved hand instinctively feeling his forehead for a scar, and finds none. The dream was always the same, only now it ends so differently, with his own blood spilled and mingling with that of his parents'.
Bruce has analyzed this each night and always arrives to the same conclusion. 'A miracle? Divine intervention? No. There was nothing divine about watching my father fall to the ground, nor anything miraculous to my mother spewing blood from her wound as she fell to join him. No, if you truly believe in miracles then my parents wouldn't be dead right now. And if you believed in mercy, I would be dead with them.'
The cowl radio suddenly crackles, "all units, be on the lookout for Commissioner James Gordon, missing since early this morning. He is described as..."
The Batman violently removes his cowl and the radio within it and sinks back into his chair in a cold sweat. 'Damn it, not Jim too.'
Nearby is a table, and although it is completely invisible in the darkness he can recall each item placed upon it clearly within his mind. He feels the scar on his forehead where the bullet once was. 'This is how it began,' he thinks. Turning to the table he recalls each item:
'Crossbow used by the Huntress, Helena Bertenelli. An orphan. If he only knew earlier...'
'Collapsible bo staff used by Robin, Tim Drake. An excellent soldier, apprentice, and friend with his whole life ahead of him. If only he wasn't...'
'Batarang with rope attached used by Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. Daughter of an evil man who had made herself into something better, a wonderful, caring human being who...'
'Escrima fighting sticks used by Nightwing, Dick Grayson, the first Robin, my son...'
'.33 calibre army issue handgun, used by Alfred Pennyworth, butler, friend, confidant, mentor. I hate guns, Alfred. You knew this, yet you kept one. Your only material possession, a reminder of the cruelty you were forced to inflict upon others in order for the common good, in order to save the Crown, your country, and your family. I understand why you kept it Alfred, even though I still don't like guns.'
Bruce rises, walks to the table and picks up Alfred's handgun. He opens the gun chamber. Opening a pouch on his utility belt he removes six bullets and inserts them into the chamber. With a flick of the wrist it closes.
'This,' he thinks, 'is how it will end.'
…
Commissioner Gordon slowly awakens and wonders why he can't move his arms and legs. "Oh." His head is still drooped down into his chest allowing him to make out the silver of duct tape covering his entire body tying him to the chair he's sitting on. Raising his head up he sees the Joker languishing on a long purple sofa reading the newspaper. The headline reads "Commish Kyboshed". He's wearing the Commissioner's glasses, smoking his pipe and sporting a purple smoking jacket and fedora with matching pants. Nearby is a table with a remote control.
'Well,' thinks the Commissioner, 'he's probably going to kill me anyway, so I might as try.' "Help!" he yells.
The Joker turns towards the Commissioner and flashes a playful smile, "Help!!" he yells even louder than the Commissioner.
"Help!!!" yells Gordon, even louder.
"Help!!!!" yells Joker.
"Help!!!!!"
"Help!!!!!!"
The Commissioner stops yelling
"Help!!!!!!! Oh, you've ceased? Finally figured it out, old bean?" the Joker says with the pipe firmly clenched between his teeth. "I would have thought you would be used to this manhandling by now. After all, you have been abducted before by me, Two-Face who did it twice, the Riddler..."
"It was worth a shot," Gordon replies, smiling, "since you're going to kill me anyway."
"Gracious, old soul, I don't wish to harm a hair on your head!"
"Why are you talking like that?" Gordon responds.
"It's this bloody pipe of yours! Makes me feels so damned British!" With that the Joker removes the pipe and smashes it into the ground. "Oh well, smoking's bad for your health anyway. Here, these are yours," the Joker says as he rises up. As he places the glasses over Gordon's eyes he whispers, "You must know that if I wanted you dead, you would be."
"What about the officer assigned to me?" Gordon asks.
"He's a playful little scamp. Sort of reminds me of me. He's somewhere around here." With that the Joker gestures and for the first time Gordon realizes he's in a warehouse. There are wooden cartons throughout the building, stacked one upon the other. He can't see an entrance from his vantage point. Their area was the only lit spot in the entire building.
"If you're not going to kill me then what do you want?" Gordon asks.
"Batman's head of course! Duh! How long have you been a cop? No wonder you're so easy to catch..."
"Alright, damn it, what do you want from me?" Gordon says, annoyed.
"Pushy, aren't we? Well, all I really want from you is some company, really. It gets pretty lonely sitting here, waiting, so let's have a gabfest. But what to talk about? What to talk about? Oh, I know! We'll talk about our common interests. Bodies? Thefts? Explosions? Police brutality? All of these are interesting but I think we should talk about Batman. You can start."
The Commissioner stays silent. 'That's it,' he thinks, 'I'm not indulging this homicidal maniac a minute longer.'
"You know," the Joker says through clenched teeth, "it's not healthy for a man who is tied up and helpless to annoy one of his captors. You must know something about old pointy ears."
"He wears a black cape," Gordon responds.
"Black cape?! Heh. Good one," the Joker says sarcastically. Suddenly his mood changes to seething rage once more, and through clenched teeth, "Tell me Gordon, got any relatives you want to keep breathing? You KNOW what I'm capable of."
The Commissioner stays silent.
"Oh wait!" the Joker jumps up excitedly, "I forgot the best part! I hope you're not above bribery! Here!" The Joker removes his fedora and places it on Gordon's head, tight.
"What's this for?" the Commissioner responds.
"Look up," the Joker says gleefully.
Directly above them Gordon sees a massive skylight. "I wouldn't want any pointy glass to harm you when Batsy drops by to visit," the Joker chortles, "Believe me, it hurts!"
The Joker sits back down and uses the remote to turn on the television at the foot of his couch. It's on the 24 hour news station. "Ambiance," the Joker says. He jumps back up and looks deeply at the Commissioner, "Now let's try this again. You've known Batsy for many years, and even if you don't know who he really is you must have a good idea. So you're going to tell me who you suspect, and you better pray you're right otherwise nothing on earth will save you!"
…
A police officer bursts into Harvey Bullock's office.
"Detective Bullock, Detective Bullock!"
"What now?" Harvey says, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. Bullock hasn't slept in ages and the wear is beginning to show as bags are forming beneath his eyes. 'It's 3 pm, still 4 hours until sunset and not a trace of the Commish. Montoya and Crispus couldn't find anything at the Commish's house that could lead to the Joker's hideout, and the APB has brought up jack squat. We need a break.'
"We got this letter addressed to the Batman marked 'Where oh where could Gordon be?' It was left anonymously in our 'Drop Off Your Needles' box. Normally they pitch these as pranks, but with the Joker out there and the Commissioner missing…"
"And let me guess, you didn't have the bomb squad check it out?"
"Sure I did. They X-rayed it and everything, couldn't find a thing. The lab opened it and found a note. They said it was safe enough so here you go, sir."
Harvey takes the note and scans it quickly, "Jeezus! How long until sunset?"
"Three hours and forty-six minutes, sir!" the officer snaps back.
"Damn you're keen, aren't you?"
…
The sun sets on Gotham at exactly 6:46 pm. 'Three hours and forty-six minutes,' thinks Bullock, 'a freakin' eternity. Damn it, why is it that you need nuts to find other nuts?' He then flips a switch on a panel beside him and instantly a giant spotlight projects the image of a bat above the Gotham skyline. 'He better not take his sweet time,' Harvey thinks, 'otherwise the Commish is a dead man.'
At 7 pm Harvey feels the air pressure change about him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Detective Bullock," a voice calls behind him.
"Jeezus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Bullock yells upon turning around.
"What do you know about Commissioner Gordon's disappearance?" a very grim dark knight whispers commandingly.
"You make me sick, you know that? Sick! This man's supposed to be your friend and we don't see hide or hair of you for the whole damn day! You're truly a piece of work all right, and if it was up to me you'd be with the rest of the loonies in Arkham. How old was that Robin kid when he met up with Joker's goon on the bridge? Or the others? Damn! You're a freak and you draw out other screwier, deadlier freaks towards not only you, but all of US too! Here, this came for you, from one nut to another!" Bullock shoves the Joker's note onto Batman's chest over his emblem. Harvey then turns around and switches the Bat-signal off. "Get off my roof."
Bullock feels the air lighten around him. "If he dies, freak, you'll have to live with it! If he dies, I'll make sure you never forget as you ROT IN HELL!!"
…
Along the ledge of one of Gotham's more ancient skyscrapers sit a collage of sculpted gargoyles. A sullen and brooding collection of images of yesteryear, except for one particularly human gargoyle. Holding his penlight in his mouth the Batman is precariously balanced on the ledge as he reads the Joker's note 40 storeys in the atmosphere.
'Where Batman began or Gordon ends at 8 pm.'
'Crime alley,' thinks Batman, 'but how could he know? Gordon?'
It's 7:15.
…
At 7:30 pm the Batman peers down at Crime Alley from the roof of a nearby building through a pair of high power binoculars. The night vision feature allows him to make out everything below. 'Nothing,' he thinks, 'a dead end. Wait.' Something catches his eye.
The Batman immediately jumps down the 5 stories, rolls with the fall to save his knees upon landing and rushes to several small fragments in a neat pile to one corner. Small wooden fragments of a pipe. 'The kind Gordon uses.' And beneath the pile, another note:
'Too late! Just kidding. To the warehouse at the corner of 5th and McCaul. Come ALONE or ELSE! Now I'm being serious.'
'He does know!'
TO BE CONTINUED…
Detective Harvey Bullock is on a long shift that just doesn't want to end. He spent the entire night coordinating the shut down of every dive in Gotham, and followed it up by patrolling the streets for 4 hours to try and disperse anti-Batman mobs scattered throughout the city. Now he's taking over for the Commissioner, who should be at home and asleep by now. 'He's a good man,' thinks the detective, 'but completely wrong about the Batman. Batman's just another nut (sure a brilliant nut, but a nut nonetheless) whose one target happens to be other nuts. It's the cops who keep Gotham from going to hell, and it's the Batman who keeps attracting new nuts out of the woodwork.' Pleased with himself Bullock, unshaved, unbathed, and with a XXXL shirt covered in coffee stains, donut crumbs and sweat, eases back on his desk chair and puts his feet up in an attempt to relax.
A loud voice suddenly rouses him from his stupor, "Detective Bullock, sir!" A young officer comes running up to the now completely alert, and peeved, Bullock.
"What-do-you-want?" replies Bullock through clenched teeth.
"Officer Jensen just reported from his car. He was supposed to take over from Officer Clancy at 0500 hours at the Commissioner's home. But when he got there Officer Clancy was missing and upon further investigation so was the Commissioner!"
"Cripes," was Bullock's only response.
"Sir?"
"Alright, get an APB out on the Commish and Clancy."
"Are you sure, sir? Any reporter listening..."
"Any vulture that's listening to the police channel probably will turn the case into a farce, I know, but it's also the quickest way of getting the word out to the force, and maybe if we find the Commish soon enough he'll still be breathing. While you're at it tell Montoya and Crispus to get a detail together over to the Commish's place. This is their baby and I want results, fast!"
"What about you, sir?"
"Me? I'm headed to the roof." 'It's still dark for another hour,' thinks Bullock, 'maybe he's still out there. Maybe there's still time.' "Damn it," he curses as he runs up the stairs. 'It has to be the Joker. No one else out of Arkham is crazy enough to do this. No one…'
…
Underneath the once majestic but now dilapidated and unkempt Wayne Manor is a cave of fantastic proportions. Within the pitch black cave stir thousands upon thousands of bats, constantly flapping wings and emitting high pitched noises until the sun rises. Below the bats in the heart of the cave sits a weary Batman, head arched back listening to the police broadcasts through his cowl radio. At these moments, when the blackness seems all consuming, his mind drifts into daydream and he remembers how it all began and how the darkness felt that very first time…
"Look Thomas," his mother said as they exited the Monarch theatre after watching the Mark of Zorro, "look at Bruce!"
Bruce was darting around his two parents, excited by the heroics just witnessed, by the daring acrobatics and wonderful swordplay. He was that hero, and he wished that night would never end. His father laughed, "Well Bruce, Zorro himself wouldn't be a match for you right now!"
Suddenly, so suddenly, would Bruce's parents stop his running. Looking up he could see a menacing figure outlined by the street lamp above. The night was too dark to see anything of detail except for the shiny gun reflecting dim light. That moment seemed to last for an eternity.
The man grasped his mother's pearl necklace and pulled. "Let go of her you..." his father yelled as he grabbed the man's arm. Bruce then remembers a spark of light with a loud bang, thunder and lightning, as his father fell.
His mother screamed only to receive the second blast of fire.
Bruce just stood there, his eyes big and sad.
The man then turned the gun towards Bruce's forehead. Bruce could see right into the barrel. "Sorry kid," the man said, and then another flash was followed by darkness…
He awakens in a cold sweat, no longer the scared child. His breathing is hard and laborious as he remembers the nightmare, his gloved hand instinctively feeling his forehead for a scar, and finds none. The dream was always the same, only now it ends so differently, with his own blood spilled and mingling with that of his parents'.
Bruce has analyzed this each night and always arrives to the same conclusion. 'A miracle? Divine intervention? No. There was nothing divine about watching my father fall to the ground, nor anything miraculous to my mother spewing blood from her wound as she fell to join him. No, if you truly believe in miracles then my parents wouldn't be dead right now. And if you believed in mercy, I would be dead with them.'
The cowl radio suddenly crackles, "all units, be on the lookout for Commissioner James Gordon, missing since early this morning. He is described as..."
The Batman violently removes his cowl and the radio within it and sinks back into his chair in a cold sweat. 'Damn it, not Jim too.'
Nearby is a table, and although it is completely invisible in the darkness he can recall each item placed upon it clearly within his mind. He feels the scar on his forehead where the bullet once was. 'This is how it began,' he thinks. Turning to the table he recalls each item:
'Crossbow used by the Huntress, Helena Bertenelli. An orphan. If he only knew earlier...'
'Collapsible bo staff used by Robin, Tim Drake. An excellent soldier, apprentice, and friend with his whole life ahead of him. If only he wasn't...'
'Batarang with rope attached used by Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. Daughter of an evil man who had made herself into something better, a wonderful, caring human being who...'
'Escrima fighting sticks used by Nightwing, Dick Grayson, the first Robin, my son...'
'.33 calibre army issue handgun, used by Alfred Pennyworth, butler, friend, confidant, mentor. I hate guns, Alfred. You knew this, yet you kept one. Your only material possession, a reminder of the cruelty you were forced to inflict upon others in order for the common good, in order to save the Crown, your country, and your family. I understand why you kept it Alfred, even though I still don't like guns.'
Bruce rises, walks to the table and picks up Alfred's handgun. He opens the gun chamber. Opening a pouch on his utility belt he removes six bullets and inserts them into the chamber. With a flick of the wrist it closes.
'This,' he thinks, 'is how it will end.'
…
Commissioner Gordon slowly awakens and wonders why he can't move his arms and legs. "Oh." His head is still drooped down into his chest allowing him to make out the silver of duct tape covering his entire body tying him to the chair he's sitting on. Raising his head up he sees the Joker languishing on a long purple sofa reading the newspaper. The headline reads "Commish Kyboshed". He's wearing the Commissioner's glasses, smoking his pipe and sporting a purple smoking jacket and fedora with matching pants. Nearby is a table with a remote control.
'Well,' thinks the Commissioner, 'he's probably going to kill me anyway, so I might as try.' "Help!" he yells.
The Joker turns towards the Commissioner and flashes a playful smile, "Help!!" he yells even louder than the Commissioner.
"Help!!!" yells Gordon, even louder.
"Help!!!!" yells Joker.
"Help!!!!!"
"Help!!!!!!"
The Commissioner stops yelling
"Help!!!!!!! Oh, you've ceased? Finally figured it out, old bean?" the Joker says with the pipe firmly clenched between his teeth. "I would have thought you would be used to this manhandling by now. After all, you have been abducted before by me, Two-Face who did it twice, the Riddler..."
"It was worth a shot," Gordon replies, smiling, "since you're going to kill me anyway."
"Gracious, old soul, I don't wish to harm a hair on your head!"
"Why are you talking like that?" Gordon responds.
"It's this bloody pipe of yours! Makes me feels so damned British!" With that the Joker removes the pipe and smashes it into the ground. "Oh well, smoking's bad for your health anyway. Here, these are yours," the Joker says as he rises up. As he places the glasses over Gordon's eyes he whispers, "You must know that if I wanted you dead, you would be."
"What about the officer assigned to me?" Gordon asks.
"He's a playful little scamp. Sort of reminds me of me. He's somewhere around here." With that the Joker gestures and for the first time Gordon realizes he's in a warehouse. There are wooden cartons throughout the building, stacked one upon the other. He can't see an entrance from his vantage point. Their area was the only lit spot in the entire building.
"If you're not going to kill me then what do you want?" Gordon asks.
"Batman's head of course! Duh! How long have you been a cop? No wonder you're so easy to catch..."
"Alright, damn it, what do you want from me?" Gordon says, annoyed.
"Pushy, aren't we? Well, all I really want from you is some company, really. It gets pretty lonely sitting here, waiting, so let's have a gabfest. But what to talk about? What to talk about? Oh, I know! We'll talk about our common interests. Bodies? Thefts? Explosions? Police brutality? All of these are interesting but I think we should talk about Batman. You can start."
The Commissioner stays silent. 'That's it,' he thinks, 'I'm not indulging this homicidal maniac a minute longer.'
"You know," the Joker says through clenched teeth, "it's not healthy for a man who is tied up and helpless to annoy one of his captors. You must know something about old pointy ears."
"He wears a black cape," Gordon responds.
"Black cape?! Heh. Good one," the Joker says sarcastically. Suddenly his mood changes to seething rage once more, and through clenched teeth, "Tell me Gordon, got any relatives you want to keep breathing? You KNOW what I'm capable of."
The Commissioner stays silent.
"Oh wait!" the Joker jumps up excitedly, "I forgot the best part! I hope you're not above bribery! Here!" The Joker removes his fedora and places it on Gordon's head, tight.
"What's this for?" the Commissioner responds.
"Look up," the Joker says gleefully.
Directly above them Gordon sees a massive skylight. "I wouldn't want any pointy glass to harm you when Batsy drops by to visit," the Joker chortles, "Believe me, it hurts!"
The Joker sits back down and uses the remote to turn on the television at the foot of his couch. It's on the 24 hour news station. "Ambiance," the Joker says. He jumps back up and looks deeply at the Commissioner, "Now let's try this again. You've known Batsy for many years, and even if you don't know who he really is you must have a good idea. So you're going to tell me who you suspect, and you better pray you're right otherwise nothing on earth will save you!"
…
A police officer bursts into Harvey Bullock's office.
"Detective Bullock, Detective Bullock!"
"What now?" Harvey says, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. Bullock hasn't slept in ages and the wear is beginning to show as bags are forming beneath his eyes. 'It's 3 pm, still 4 hours until sunset and not a trace of the Commish. Montoya and Crispus couldn't find anything at the Commish's house that could lead to the Joker's hideout, and the APB has brought up jack squat. We need a break.'
"We got this letter addressed to the Batman marked 'Where oh where could Gordon be?' It was left anonymously in our 'Drop Off Your Needles' box. Normally they pitch these as pranks, but with the Joker out there and the Commissioner missing…"
"And let me guess, you didn't have the bomb squad check it out?"
"Sure I did. They X-rayed it and everything, couldn't find a thing. The lab opened it and found a note. They said it was safe enough so here you go, sir."
Harvey takes the note and scans it quickly, "Jeezus! How long until sunset?"
"Three hours and forty-six minutes, sir!" the officer snaps back.
"Damn you're keen, aren't you?"
…
The sun sets on Gotham at exactly 6:46 pm. 'Three hours and forty-six minutes,' thinks Bullock, 'a freakin' eternity. Damn it, why is it that you need nuts to find other nuts?' He then flips a switch on a panel beside him and instantly a giant spotlight projects the image of a bat above the Gotham skyline. 'He better not take his sweet time,' Harvey thinks, 'otherwise the Commish is a dead man.'
At 7 pm Harvey feels the air pressure change about him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Detective Bullock," a voice calls behind him.
"Jeezus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Bullock yells upon turning around.
"What do you know about Commissioner Gordon's disappearance?" a very grim dark knight whispers commandingly.
"You make me sick, you know that? Sick! This man's supposed to be your friend and we don't see hide or hair of you for the whole damn day! You're truly a piece of work all right, and if it was up to me you'd be with the rest of the loonies in Arkham. How old was that Robin kid when he met up with Joker's goon on the bridge? Or the others? Damn! You're a freak and you draw out other screwier, deadlier freaks towards not only you, but all of US too! Here, this came for you, from one nut to another!" Bullock shoves the Joker's note onto Batman's chest over his emblem. Harvey then turns around and switches the Bat-signal off. "Get off my roof."
Bullock feels the air lighten around him. "If he dies, freak, you'll have to live with it! If he dies, I'll make sure you never forget as you ROT IN HELL!!"
…
Along the ledge of one of Gotham's more ancient skyscrapers sit a collage of sculpted gargoyles. A sullen and brooding collection of images of yesteryear, except for one particularly human gargoyle. Holding his penlight in his mouth the Batman is precariously balanced on the ledge as he reads the Joker's note 40 storeys in the atmosphere.
'Where Batman began or Gordon ends at 8 pm.'
'Crime alley,' thinks Batman, 'but how could he know? Gordon?'
It's 7:15.
…
At 7:30 pm the Batman peers down at Crime Alley from the roof of a nearby building through a pair of high power binoculars. The night vision feature allows him to make out everything below. 'Nothing,' he thinks, 'a dead end. Wait.' Something catches his eye.
The Batman immediately jumps down the 5 stories, rolls with the fall to save his knees upon landing and rushes to several small fragments in a neat pile to one corner. Small wooden fragments of a pipe. 'The kind Gordon uses.' And beneath the pile, another note:
'Too late! Just kidding. To the warehouse at the corner of 5th and McCaul. Come ALONE or ELSE! Now I'm being serious.'
'He does know!'
TO BE CONTINUED…