Chapter 12: Events Predicted I
In the pitch-blackness of Wayne Manor, Commissioner James W. Gordon could feel powerful hands shove him into a chair. Landing hard he hears the crack of splintering wood, and realizes his trusted pipe has snapped. He grunts in pain as his mangled right arm fires thunderbolts to his brain. His eyes finally begin to adjust to the moonlight when he hears a switch turn, sparking a dull illumination, a circle of light, around him. It's the den, that much he is certain of, but he cannot pierce the blackness beyond the light. Gordon's first instinct is to try to reach his revolver.
"Don't bother..." the gruff, whispery voice of the Batman tells him. The Batman steps out of the dark and into the light, in full black and gray. Gordon turns to face him. "...you know what I'm capable of."
"Damn it, what are you capable of?" Gordon screams back. "You lied to me! You said you couldn't wear that suit again! What else did you lie about, Bruce? What else are you capable of?"
Batman raises an eyebrow at Gordon's accusation, unable to completely comprehend it. "You still don't understand?" Batman begins, "Shooting the Harlequin was a brilliant move. Anyone who keeps in touch with Arkham, like you, me, or any of the inmates for that matter, would know. Hurt Ivy and you'd have to answer to Harley. Hurt Harley and you'd have hell to pay from Ivy. What better way to draw her out and point her in the right direction?"
"Bruce, I asked you before if you were the vigilante killer. The media thinks Batman is the killer, the inmates think Batman is the killer, the whole damned city thinks Batman is the killer. I asked you, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and what do you do? Dear Lord, what have you done?"
"She's after you, Jim," Batman whispers, ignoring his captive's questions. "It's only logical, she wants you so she can get to me. That's why I led you and Bullock on...so you'd be here."
"You? You're MacMurtney?" Gordon's demeanor changes to one of dread and concern, "And that note...you really...?"
The Batman pauses and frowns. He then swoops down at the Commissioner and shoves his chair up against the wall. Gordon looks up and sees Batman's eyes firmly fixed upon the nearby French windows. The glass suddenly shatters into thousands of jaggedly sharp fragments, with each piece glistening like a star while propelling through the air and into the light filled circle. Batman raises his cape with lightning like speed to protect both Gordon and himself. Once the barrage subsides he lowers the cape, and what seem like giant green fingers stare back at him. Each digit then reaches out and grabs the dark knight before he can react, pushing him out of the light and into the darkness. He smashes into the far wall and grunts in pain. His arms crushed to his sides, the Batman desperately tries to wriggle himself free, but his efforts only make the leafy fingers grip even tighter. Finally he stops and wryly smiles as a beautiful red headed woman, wearing a green complexion and very leafy one-piece swimsuit, enters the room with a plant aided leap from the grounds below. She is like a temptress beckoned forth from the pits of hell. "Company's here," he says sarcastically.
Though dumbfounded at the latest turn of events, the Commissioner immediately recognizes her and calls out, "Poison Ivy!" She turns her head towards him while continuing her very slow and alluring walk towards the Batman. The look on her face is one of pure hatred.
"Don't do this! Dr. Arkham said you were making excellent progress. He thought you could leave the asylum. He thought you were cured! Don't..." She doesn't hear a word. Instead she gestures with a raised eyebrow and Gordon finds himself instantaneously wrapped in vines and bound to his seat, his mouth gagging on bitter leaves.
"Well, well," Poison Ivy begins as she turns her full attention to the ensnarled Batman once more, her voice is as seductively sweet as a summer's breeze, "I came looking for the Commissioner. You always had a thing for saving cops, and the top cop in particular. I had no idea you would be here too, but fortune can sometimes be kind, instead of cruel."
Batman merely stares at her, frowning.
"I'm going to make you pay for what you did to Harley. I have such exquisite tortures in mind for you, Batman. It will be a pleasure to see if you can take it as well as dish it out..." and the leafy fingers begin to squeeze a little harder "...you'll beg, and plead, and pray, and then you'll die, less of a man than when you were born." and the leafy fingers squeeze even harder. "First, a little something," she smirks as her fingernail strokes his exposed cheek, biting into the flesh. He could feel the scratch burn as the toxins flow into his body, and the cool night air seemed to ignite into a blazing inferno about him. "Nothing deadly," she continues, "just bad enough to give you a taste of hell...before I send you there."
Then there's a clap of thunder and Ivy gives a faint yelp before falling to the ground. Batman, in his delirious state of mind, barely notices her blood splash onto his face. However, he does notice the familiarly garbed figure stepping into the circle of light. There's no mistaking him, with his black and gray suit, cowl covered face and pointed ears. Within his black-gloved hands is a smoking Tommy gun, the source of the thunderclap. Bruce gurgles in pain, barely able to focus his vision thanks to Ivy's gift. He scarcely manages to get the word out, "Batman."
The latest entrant bows graciously to his still plant bound host. He then turns towards Commissioner Gordon, who's desperately trying to free himself from his bonds. "Don't bother, Gordon. I've seen her plants thrive even after she's sound asleep. I suspect your bonds work on a similar principle. Besides, it'll be over before you know it. And you, dear lady," he opens his hands towards Ivy's prone form, "You've played you're part masterfully! You set them up, and I knock them down. Never mind that I set you up in the first place, we'll just keep that to ourselves." He frowns, "Poor girl, you miss your friend, don't you? How about if I send you to her, first class, no charge?" He cocks the gun and levels it down.
"Stop...stop the thunder!" a raspy voice calls out.
The Batman turns towards his plant bound doppelganger and smiles, "What was that, Brucie?"
"Joker." he whispers.
"Figured it out, eh?" the gun wielding Batman smiles, his ruby lips and white face now unmistakably clear, "Not that it ever was that hard. I told you I'd pay you a visit. By the way, nice place you've got here. Love the floral touch. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to shoot these two people before your very eyes, and then we'll talk, I promise."
Bruce grunts as his right hand clasps down into a hard fist, depressing a tiny button in his glove's palm. The solitary lamp lighting the room then begins to crackle and pop as its wiring is overloaded with current. The light then goes out, giving the disguised Joker reason to pause and stare up. Soon sparks rain down onto the ground, igniting the fuel-covered floor into a raging bonfire. The Joker laughs as the bonfire becomes an inferno. He turns towards his nemesis, "Took a page out of my book, eh? And without express written permission! You naughty boy!" He raises the machine gun to eye level and aims at the Batman's skull.
Bruce struggles with his bonds at a fevered pitch. Already the flames have touched the plants about him, and only now are they weakening. With a final strain of muscle he wrenches himself free, the hail of gunfire erupting above his head scant seconds later. In his delirium there's only one response he can muster, "Stop...the...thunder!"
He deftly dodges another barrage from the mad clown, rolling to one side. Bounding to his feet with a maddened strength he then leaps at his laughing look-alike. Grabbing the gun's barrel he then hurls it about, with the Joker in tow. The Joker is unable to hold on and releases his grip on the gun, launching him up against a now fire soaked wall. Flames lick at his costume and skin, taking their pound of flesh before he can extricate himself. He doesn't cry out, nor does he whimper. The Joker actually manages a grin as he steps away, smoldering.
Bruce Wayne doesn't notice, or if he did, he doesn't care. All he can think about is the manmade thunder that had taken his parents from him. All he can think about is his need to end this. Lifting the gun over his head like a club he then brings it down on top of the Joker's head, smashing the gun to bits. The Joker continues to grin as he shrugs off the assault and shoves Bruce back. Bruce grimaces; his fever-racked mind won't let him plan an attack. He can feel the pain of Ivy's gift start to decline, but it won't be in time. He won't be able to win this one and he smiles at the possibility. He glances at the ceiling and his smile becomes a sneer. Soon it will be over, for both of them. 'Good.'
He then feels a gentle hand across his shoulder and turns with a start. It's the Commissioner. "Bruce, get her out of here, please," he implores as he gestures over to Ivy, who continues to lie motionless in the midst of the chaos. "She's still alive. I can't do it with my mangled arm. You're the only one who can save her, Bruce. Don't let her die. Promise me you won't let her die. She just misses her friend."
The Batman grits his teeth in frustration. His plan neglected Gordon's handicap. He was so close!
"Promise me!" Gordon screams.
"I promise," Bruce growls under his breath. Something in Gordon's words had swayed the dark knight and he gently picks up Ivy's limp form and runs towards the shattered window, and freedom. Gordon turns towards the Joker and clenches his left fist. The Joker laughs, "Aren't you going to follow him out? Then I follow you out. Isn't that how we play this game?"
"I'm not leaving," Gordon growls, "and neither are you. You've got one of the Hatter's devices under that cowl, don't you? The same type the Walrus had at the school? That's how you could take the slam into the fire and the club shot to the head?"
"Guilty as charged, Commissioner," Joker smirks, staring at his own reflection in Gordon's thick glasses, "How else do you think I could frame Bats so soon after being shot in the stomach? I needed an edge. Shall we continue this lovely chat outdoors?"
"I don't think so," Gordon casually answers back, the sweat pouring down his face, "I know what Batman had in mind tonight."
"So did I!" Joker interrupts, unwilling to be outdone.
"But I won't let him go through with it! Super strength or not, you can still die," Gordon produces his gun from his pocket and levels it at the Joker. "You killed some of the finest men and women I've ever known...some of the closest people in my life! Dear lord, I can still see her face at night!"
"Such pleasant memories," the Joker smiles back, "You know, it took 56 bullets to stop the Walrus. You don't have nearly enough."
"You're right," Gordon sighs, "But they can slow you down." He pulls the trigger and a single shot rips through Joker's right shoulder, "Arm for an arm."
"I didn't feel a thing," the Joker giggles, "Do it again!"
Gordon aims the gun at Joker's skull and pulls the trigger. The bullet smashes into the Kevlar cowl the Joker continues to wear. The mad clown doesn't feel a thing and his giggle becomes a guffaw, "This isn't a discount store knock-off, Gordon! I spent a great deal to make it as authentic as possible, right down to the lovely little booties! Go ahead, do it again!"
Gordon could feel the heat begin to build, and could hear wooden supports start to crack, 'So this was the plan?' He turns to Joker and fires another shot, this time at his right shin. The bullet ricochets off the boot's armor and the Joker laughs out loud, "Again! Again!"
"The boots," Gordon gasps, the smoke beginning to choke his throat and sting his eyes, "How did you copy them so exactly?"
"Oh, that was the most brilliant part!" Joker thumps a fist on his chest, "Batsy had me stuck in the Batmobile's trunk after the bridge dropped. Did you know he kept a spare suit in there? I just popped open the package and made some mental notes once I came to. The boots were the master stroke!" The Joker reaches for the utility belt and Gordon fires another shot, right into his stomach. The Joker grins as his old wound is reopened, "That tickles." He removes a cigarette and lighter from his belt. Amidst the raging inferno and billowing smoke he lights the cigarette and takes a long, deep breath, "I used this lighter," Joker flicks the tiny cartridge on and off, "to warm up the leather on his boot's sole, till it burned to the touch." Joker demonstrates by dipping his hand into the tiny lighter's flame. Immediately his hand begins to burn, "Cool, huh? You don't get these at just any smoke shop, I tell you." He takes another long drag, "Once hot enough, I just stuck the boot on my chest and it left a very painful and very indelible impression. Voila, instant copy! Care to try again?"
Gordon tries to stem his cough and falls to his knees in a desperate bid to get away from the smoke. "You can burn," he growls, "You won't feel a thing while you fry, but you will fry!" The Commissioner then raises his gun above his head as he hears the ceiling begin to crack above them. He flashes a large, malicious grin at the Joker, like the mad clown is famous for, "Finish what I started. I'll see you in hell!"
"Suit yourself," the Joker smiles back as Gordon fires his fifth shot into the weakened ceiling, sending a crushing rain of flaming plaster and wood upon them.
TO BE CONTINUED...
In the pitch-blackness of Wayne Manor, Commissioner James W. Gordon could feel powerful hands shove him into a chair. Landing hard he hears the crack of splintering wood, and realizes his trusted pipe has snapped. He grunts in pain as his mangled right arm fires thunderbolts to his brain. His eyes finally begin to adjust to the moonlight when he hears a switch turn, sparking a dull illumination, a circle of light, around him. It's the den, that much he is certain of, but he cannot pierce the blackness beyond the light. Gordon's first instinct is to try to reach his revolver.
"Don't bother..." the gruff, whispery voice of the Batman tells him. The Batman steps out of the dark and into the light, in full black and gray. Gordon turns to face him. "...you know what I'm capable of."
"Damn it, what are you capable of?" Gordon screams back. "You lied to me! You said you couldn't wear that suit again! What else did you lie about, Bruce? What else are you capable of?"
Batman raises an eyebrow at Gordon's accusation, unable to completely comprehend it. "You still don't understand?" Batman begins, "Shooting the Harlequin was a brilliant move. Anyone who keeps in touch with Arkham, like you, me, or any of the inmates for that matter, would know. Hurt Ivy and you'd have to answer to Harley. Hurt Harley and you'd have hell to pay from Ivy. What better way to draw her out and point her in the right direction?"
"Bruce, I asked you before if you were the vigilante killer. The media thinks Batman is the killer, the inmates think Batman is the killer, the whole damned city thinks Batman is the killer. I asked you, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and what do you do? Dear Lord, what have you done?"
"She's after you, Jim," Batman whispers, ignoring his captive's questions. "It's only logical, she wants you so she can get to me. That's why I led you and Bullock on...so you'd be here."
"You? You're MacMurtney?" Gordon's demeanor changes to one of dread and concern, "And that note...you really...?"
The Batman pauses and frowns. He then swoops down at the Commissioner and shoves his chair up against the wall. Gordon looks up and sees Batman's eyes firmly fixed upon the nearby French windows. The glass suddenly shatters into thousands of jaggedly sharp fragments, with each piece glistening like a star while propelling through the air and into the light filled circle. Batman raises his cape with lightning like speed to protect both Gordon and himself. Once the barrage subsides he lowers the cape, and what seem like giant green fingers stare back at him. Each digit then reaches out and grabs the dark knight before he can react, pushing him out of the light and into the darkness. He smashes into the far wall and grunts in pain. His arms crushed to his sides, the Batman desperately tries to wriggle himself free, but his efforts only make the leafy fingers grip even tighter. Finally he stops and wryly smiles as a beautiful red headed woman, wearing a green complexion and very leafy one-piece swimsuit, enters the room with a plant aided leap from the grounds below. She is like a temptress beckoned forth from the pits of hell. "Company's here," he says sarcastically.
Though dumbfounded at the latest turn of events, the Commissioner immediately recognizes her and calls out, "Poison Ivy!" She turns her head towards him while continuing her very slow and alluring walk towards the Batman. The look on her face is one of pure hatred.
"Don't do this! Dr. Arkham said you were making excellent progress. He thought you could leave the asylum. He thought you were cured! Don't..." She doesn't hear a word. Instead she gestures with a raised eyebrow and Gordon finds himself instantaneously wrapped in vines and bound to his seat, his mouth gagging on bitter leaves.
"Well, well," Poison Ivy begins as she turns her full attention to the ensnarled Batman once more, her voice is as seductively sweet as a summer's breeze, "I came looking for the Commissioner. You always had a thing for saving cops, and the top cop in particular. I had no idea you would be here too, but fortune can sometimes be kind, instead of cruel."
Batman merely stares at her, frowning.
"I'm going to make you pay for what you did to Harley. I have such exquisite tortures in mind for you, Batman. It will be a pleasure to see if you can take it as well as dish it out..." and the leafy fingers begin to squeeze a little harder "...you'll beg, and plead, and pray, and then you'll die, less of a man than when you were born." and the leafy fingers squeeze even harder. "First, a little something," she smirks as her fingernail strokes his exposed cheek, biting into the flesh. He could feel the scratch burn as the toxins flow into his body, and the cool night air seemed to ignite into a blazing inferno about him. "Nothing deadly," she continues, "just bad enough to give you a taste of hell...before I send you there."
Then there's a clap of thunder and Ivy gives a faint yelp before falling to the ground. Batman, in his delirious state of mind, barely notices her blood splash onto his face. However, he does notice the familiarly garbed figure stepping into the circle of light. There's no mistaking him, with his black and gray suit, cowl covered face and pointed ears. Within his black-gloved hands is a smoking Tommy gun, the source of the thunderclap. Bruce gurgles in pain, barely able to focus his vision thanks to Ivy's gift. He scarcely manages to get the word out, "Batman."
The latest entrant bows graciously to his still plant bound host. He then turns towards Commissioner Gordon, who's desperately trying to free himself from his bonds. "Don't bother, Gordon. I've seen her plants thrive even after she's sound asleep. I suspect your bonds work on a similar principle. Besides, it'll be over before you know it. And you, dear lady," he opens his hands towards Ivy's prone form, "You've played you're part masterfully! You set them up, and I knock them down. Never mind that I set you up in the first place, we'll just keep that to ourselves." He frowns, "Poor girl, you miss your friend, don't you? How about if I send you to her, first class, no charge?" He cocks the gun and levels it down.
"Stop...stop the thunder!" a raspy voice calls out.
The Batman turns towards his plant bound doppelganger and smiles, "What was that, Brucie?"
"Joker." he whispers.
"Figured it out, eh?" the gun wielding Batman smiles, his ruby lips and white face now unmistakably clear, "Not that it ever was that hard. I told you I'd pay you a visit. By the way, nice place you've got here. Love the floral touch. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to shoot these two people before your very eyes, and then we'll talk, I promise."
Bruce grunts as his right hand clasps down into a hard fist, depressing a tiny button in his glove's palm. The solitary lamp lighting the room then begins to crackle and pop as its wiring is overloaded with current. The light then goes out, giving the disguised Joker reason to pause and stare up. Soon sparks rain down onto the ground, igniting the fuel-covered floor into a raging bonfire. The Joker laughs as the bonfire becomes an inferno. He turns towards his nemesis, "Took a page out of my book, eh? And without express written permission! You naughty boy!" He raises the machine gun to eye level and aims at the Batman's skull.
Bruce struggles with his bonds at a fevered pitch. Already the flames have touched the plants about him, and only now are they weakening. With a final strain of muscle he wrenches himself free, the hail of gunfire erupting above his head scant seconds later. In his delirium there's only one response he can muster, "Stop...the...thunder!"
He deftly dodges another barrage from the mad clown, rolling to one side. Bounding to his feet with a maddened strength he then leaps at his laughing look-alike. Grabbing the gun's barrel he then hurls it about, with the Joker in tow. The Joker is unable to hold on and releases his grip on the gun, launching him up against a now fire soaked wall. Flames lick at his costume and skin, taking their pound of flesh before he can extricate himself. He doesn't cry out, nor does he whimper. The Joker actually manages a grin as he steps away, smoldering.
Bruce Wayne doesn't notice, or if he did, he doesn't care. All he can think about is the manmade thunder that had taken his parents from him. All he can think about is his need to end this. Lifting the gun over his head like a club he then brings it down on top of the Joker's head, smashing the gun to bits. The Joker continues to grin as he shrugs off the assault and shoves Bruce back. Bruce grimaces; his fever-racked mind won't let him plan an attack. He can feel the pain of Ivy's gift start to decline, but it won't be in time. He won't be able to win this one and he smiles at the possibility. He glances at the ceiling and his smile becomes a sneer. Soon it will be over, for both of them. 'Good.'
He then feels a gentle hand across his shoulder and turns with a start. It's the Commissioner. "Bruce, get her out of here, please," he implores as he gestures over to Ivy, who continues to lie motionless in the midst of the chaos. "She's still alive. I can't do it with my mangled arm. You're the only one who can save her, Bruce. Don't let her die. Promise me you won't let her die. She just misses her friend."
The Batman grits his teeth in frustration. His plan neglected Gordon's handicap. He was so close!
"Promise me!" Gordon screams.
"I promise," Bruce growls under his breath. Something in Gordon's words had swayed the dark knight and he gently picks up Ivy's limp form and runs towards the shattered window, and freedom. Gordon turns towards the Joker and clenches his left fist. The Joker laughs, "Aren't you going to follow him out? Then I follow you out. Isn't that how we play this game?"
"I'm not leaving," Gordon growls, "and neither are you. You've got one of the Hatter's devices under that cowl, don't you? The same type the Walrus had at the school? That's how you could take the slam into the fire and the club shot to the head?"
"Guilty as charged, Commissioner," Joker smirks, staring at his own reflection in Gordon's thick glasses, "How else do you think I could frame Bats so soon after being shot in the stomach? I needed an edge. Shall we continue this lovely chat outdoors?"
"I don't think so," Gordon casually answers back, the sweat pouring down his face, "I know what Batman had in mind tonight."
"So did I!" Joker interrupts, unwilling to be outdone.
"But I won't let him go through with it! Super strength or not, you can still die," Gordon produces his gun from his pocket and levels it at the Joker. "You killed some of the finest men and women I've ever known...some of the closest people in my life! Dear lord, I can still see her face at night!"
"Such pleasant memories," the Joker smiles back, "You know, it took 56 bullets to stop the Walrus. You don't have nearly enough."
"You're right," Gordon sighs, "But they can slow you down." He pulls the trigger and a single shot rips through Joker's right shoulder, "Arm for an arm."
"I didn't feel a thing," the Joker giggles, "Do it again!"
Gordon aims the gun at Joker's skull and pulls the trigger. The bullet smashes into the Kevlar cowl the Joker continues to wear. The mad clown doesn't feel a thing and his giggle becomes a guffaw, "This isn't a discount store knock-off, Gordon! I spent a great deal to make it as authentic as possible, right down to the lovely little booties! Go ahead, do it again!"
Gordon could feel the heat begin to build, and could hear wooden supports start to crack, 'So this was the plan?' He turns to Joker and fires another shot, this time at his right shin. The bullet ricochets off the boot's armor and the Joker laughs out loud, "Again! Again!"
"The boots," Gordon gasps, the smoke beginning to choke his throat and sting his eyes, "How did you copy them so exactly?"
"Oh, that was the most brilliant part!" Joker thumps a fist on his chest, "Batsy had me stuck in the Batmobile's trunk after the bridge dropped. Did you know he kept a spare suit in there? I just popped open the package and made some mental notes once I came to. The boots were the master stroke!" The Joker reaches for the utility belt and Gordon fires another shot, right into his stomach. The Joker grins as his old wound is reopened, "That tickles." He removes a cigarette and lighter from his belt. Amidst the raging inferno and billowing smoke he lights the cigarette and takes a long, deep breath, "I used this lighter," Joker flicks the tiny cartridge on and off, "to warm up the leather on his boot's sole, till it burned to the touch." Joker demonstrates by dipping his hand into the tiny lighter's flame. Immediately his hand begins to burn, "Cool, huh? You don't get these at just any smoke shop, I tell you." He takes another long drag, "Once hot enough, I just stuck the boot on my chest and it left a very painful and very indelible impression. Voila, instant copy! Care to try again?"
Gordon tries to stem his cough and falls to his knees in a desperate bid to get away from the smoke. "You can burn," he growls, "You won't feel a thing while you fry, but you will fry!" The Commissioner then raises his gun above his head as he hears the ceiling begin to crack above them. He flashes a large, malicious grin at the Joker, like the mad clown is famous for, "Finish what I started. I'll see you in hell!"
"Suit yourself," the Joker smiles back as Gordon fires his fifth shot into the weakened ceiling, sending a crushing rain of flaming plaster and wood upon them.
TO BE CONTINUED...