Chapter Two
Every day was another challenge. That's what she always thought. And today it was the Jokerz.
No matter how many they put away, more kept popping up. It was enough to drive the police force wild. This wasn't any ordinary gang. They were dangerous in more ways than one. And one way would be their namesake.
Barbara Gordon rubbed the back of her neck, tiredly, catching her reflection in the window separating her office from the main police department. Her hair was short and white, glasses donning the older face. She never approved of the way she looked. Once long ago she was able to look in at her reflection and beam at the flaming red hair and trim body. She was still fit, but age changed everything.
Wild yelling burst out through her door and she looked up to see two more Jokerz being dragged in through the front doors. They were two young men, dressed in loud plaid suits and white make-up smeared across their faces. Their hair was a wild rainbow of color red lipstick had been used to draw circles on their cheeks and around their mouths.
She sighed, listening to their loud protests. It was the same thing every time. 'I was made to do it!' 'It wasn't me!' and her personal favorite; 'you guys can't take a joke, can you?'
It just wasn't funny anymore.
She just couldn't understand why a group of teens would ever idolize the Joker. He was long gone and still his influence was fresh throughout the city. It made her sick.
Just as long as the Joker himself isn't around.
"Commissioner," a voice spoke up, and one of the officers appeared in the doorway. "Time to do the usual interrogation."
She sighed again, getting up from the desk. "Thank you, Jerry," she told him, "be right there."
He nodded and left, leaving her to get ready. She tossed the papers she had been sorting through earlier aside.
Today was another day.
Terry didn't like going home most of the time. If he had the choice to choose where he'd rather stay, it would be out of the house or with his friends. Since he really didn't have much of a choice and no job at the moment, neither option was realistic.
Taking the steps that led up to his family's apartment two at time he reached the top and headed down to his door. For a moment he wandered where his key was, then remembered and got it out. Sliding it through the lock the door beeped and he pushed it open.
No one greeted him at first, but he didn't care. His mother was in the kitchen all dressed up and rummaging through the fridge.
He set his backpack down on the counter, watching her.
"I'll be leaving in a couple of minutes for the business meeting," she said to him, "and your father is in his office. He might be leaving in a couple of hours for work so I have some TV dinners for you to nuke."
"Okay," he said tonelessly as she set out two dinners on the counter.
"Two minutes, rotate, then another two. Don't let Matt eat when it's too hot and remember that he doesn't like peas. Even so don't let him dump it, it's good for him."
"Sure," he said, "artificial peas. Can't get much healthier than that."
"You never know," she said cheerily, rounding the counter to hug him. She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll be back around ten. Trust you won't get into too much trouble."
"Okay Mom."
He turned and watched as she left through the front door. He heard it click as she locked it behind her, then turned to head for his room.
In order to get to his room he had to pass his father's office down the hallway. Normally it was closed, but today it was ajar and he could see his Dad seated behind his mahogany desk, head bent over whatever he was doing. The computer was on beside him.
He considered saying at least 'hey' to him, but Terry passed on that opportunity and continued on to his room.
The apartment got smaller as he went deeper down the hall, getting quieter as he left the main rooms toward his own. Stepping into his bedroom he closed the door behind him and plopped down on the bed.
His hair was still damp from the shower earlier. When he left the locker room Coach had been standing in the gym, watching the other teammates. He saw Terry crossing and stared, almost as if waiting for him to come and apologize.
Oh no. No way. Terry was not about to apologize for anything.
Nelson hadn't made it any better. He made a show of watching Terry leave, nudging the other players and saying something to make them snicker. It was all he could do not to run across the gym that moment and pelt Nelson across the face. But he couldn't do that. Dana was still there and he didn't want to give a bad impression of himself.
"You're not staying?" she had asked, running up to him. Her long black locks bounced as she approached and she flashed one of her heartwarming smiles.
"Wish I could," he had told her, "but I have to go home anyway, watch Matt."
"Did Jared talk to you?"
"Yup. If anything goes well I'll give you a call and set up a club where we can meet."
"Great." She grinned and kissed him. "See you then."
"Count on it."
Now here he was, lying on his bed and wondering if he would ever be able to meet up with her later that night.
Getting up she crossed over to his desk where he usually stashed all his schoolwork. Opening the bottom drawer he looked down at the pile of F and D papers and winced. Not only had he been kicked off the wrestling team, but also if he had stayed any longer he would've been forced out anyway from his grades.
The phone rang then and he looked around the room. The cordless wasn't there and he sighed inwardly, opening the door and peeking out into the hallway. If someone weren't going to get that he'd have to walk all the way to the kitchen where-
The ringing stopped and he heard the faint 'hello?' from his Dad's office. Shrugging he closed the door and turned back toward his desk. If he didn't get those make-up papers in soon, he'd flunk out completely.
He was just about to get started when he got the funny feeling that he wasn't alone in the room. He stopped, straining his hears to listen. He thought he had heard shuffling.
Maybe he was wrong.
He started working again when he heard it again. Not heard. Felt. He could feel another presence.
Slowly he got to his feet, arms out, muscles tense. He held his breath, listening. Through the thick silence he could hear his Dad's voice from down the hall, speaking through the phone. He thought he heard 'Terry' being said, but before he could hear anymore something attacked him.
He yelled out in surprise, pitching forward as a small voice cried out, grabbing him around the waist. Terry prepared to swing him off, but stopped abruptly. Giggling had broken the silence.
He looked down to see Matt's smaller arms wrapped around his waist, attempting to pull him off balance. Terry smiled in spite of himself and pulled him off. "What are you trying to do, make me fail?"
"No," his younger brother said, stepping out from behind him, "more or less trying to kill you." His eyes moved down to the papers strewn over the floor. "Wow Terry. You're stupid."
"Thanks. Now get lost, I have work to do."
Matt frowned, crossing his arms. He looked just like Terry, only half his size. He was ten years old and had the same bushy hair his older brother had. They always used to wrestle, but lately Terry had been too preoccupied to engage in the game. "You're supposed to be watching me."
"Aren't you a little too old to have a baby-sitter?"
"Yeah. But you're my brother."
"Unfortunately." Terry gathered the papers and put them back on the desk. He crossed the room to open the door. "Now get lost. Watch TV or something- "
"Terry?"
His father's voice had called his name from the office. Terry hesitated. "Yeah?" he called back.
"Can you come here please?"
He sighed. Behind him Matt was grinning.
"Oooooh, you're in trouble!"
Terry ignored him and walked down the hallway toward his father's office. Pushing the door open he saw Warren McGinnis waiting for him. He had taken his glasses off and was rubbing the back of his neck.
Uh oh.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"I just got off the phone with your Coach," Warren said. "Care to tell me what happened?"
Terry shrugged from the doorway. "Got in a fight."
"That's what Coach said too. Only it wasn't just a fight. It was the result of several fights throughout the semester. What's going on?"
"Nothing."
Warren nodded, sitting up. "Nothing. Sure. Then Coach told me that even if you hadn't been kicked out now, you probably would have later because of your grades. According to him you're failing nearly all of them."
Terry started. "Not wrestling. I wasn't failing that-"
"I don't care about wrestling." Warren voice was sterner now. "We need to talk Terry. You've been getting a little out of hand lately with your temper and your grades or falling."
Terry clenched his teeth together. He didn't need this right now. He had had enough with talking. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Oh really? Seems to me that if you don't bring up your grades you're going to flunk right out of High School."
Terry sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you expect me to do all these things, Dad? I'm not this school whiz like you!"
"You watch what you say!" Warren said, getting to his feet. Terry stood his ground.
"Why can't you just leave me alone about this? It's my life, I'll do what I want with it!"
"No you won't!" His father yelled back, "you're not eighteen yet, and if I let you do what you want to do you'll end up with a dead end job!"
"Stop telling me what to do."
"You're capable of so many things Terry, you just have to set your mind to it! Lately you've been letting this temper get ahead of you and if you don't stop-"
"I won't become some scientist like you?" Terry punched angrily at the doorframe.
"Stop it!" Warren yelled, "you're starting to get impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah, impossible," Terry said sarcastically. "Forget this, I'm out of here."
"Don't you walk out on me while we're talking Terry."
"Too late. I'm gone."
He left the room, leaving his father standing there. He listened as his son stormed angrily around the house, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet, before leaving the apartment, slamming the door shut.
He closed his eyes briefly, sinking back into his chair. All the weight he had forgone that day came back to him as he put his hands to his forehead.
He sat there for a few minutes like that, thinking. A small voice interrupted it, causing him to look up.
Matt was standing in the doorway timidly. He looked a little taken aback by the fight as he said quietly, "Jason called and wanted to know if I could go over to his house."
Warren sighed, looking at him. "Are his parents coming to pick you up?"
"Yeah."
"Okay then. Don't be gone too late."
"I won't."
Warren watched him leave, silently hoping Mat would never grow up to behave like his older brother. It was too much.
Rubbing his eyes he put his glasses back on and tried to pay attention to the computer screen in front of him.
Stewart ran wildly through the dark alleys, his chest heaving and his legs aching with pain. He couldn't stop running. He glanced back, eyes wide with fright as he continued around the corner, nearly slipping on the soiled ground as he took the turn.
Behind him he could hear footsteps, heavy footsteps following. They were getting closer and closer, no matter how fast Stewart was running. He couldn't seem to run fast enough.
Sweat poured down the sides of his face as he took another turn, this time loosing his footing and sliding on the ground. He cried out in pain as he hit the ground hard, wrenching his right shoulder. He climbed back to his feet and continued on, gasping for air.
He had no idea where he was now. Everything looked foreign to him. He could hear noise in the far distance and got the idea he was near the downtown area. Other than that he was lost.
The alleyways were getting darker and he had a hard time telling where he was stepping. He could hear scurrying as the rats darted away from him, exited at his presence.
Then he came to a dead end.
He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible.
"No," he murmured, looking around wildly. "No, no, no!" He checked the doors leading into different rooms, but they were all locked. He could feel the fear lifting to its new high, consuming him. He could barely breath anymore. His whole body shook as he turned around.
Another figure stepped away from the shadows, almost as if it had been waiting for him to get there. He was a big man with short spiky hair and a scar running down his face. It was the same man who had been watching him and Warren earlier that day.
"No, no, please, I beg you!" Stewart pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything, I don't know anything, please don't-"
"Don't what?" The man asked, raising a gun. "Kill you?"
He fired and Stewart let out a strangled, wet cry, spinning around and hitting the ground. The man stepped forward, raising the gun skyward.
"That's an excellent idea."
He checked the man over. Stewart was lying on his stomach, arms and legs spread out, eyes wide. He was dead.
Straightening up the scarred man took a cell phone out from his pocket and raised it to his ear. It rang a couple of times before someone answered. A man.
"Powers."
The man stared down at Stewart, tucking the gun away. "I got him."
There was a long pause. The man bent down, searching the scientist for identification. Finally the man on the other line answered.
"Excellent Mr. Fixx. Who else knows?"
Mr. Fixx straightened up, Stewart's wallet and keys in his hands. "Just one other." He tucked them in his pocket.
"Good. Get rid of him."
"Gladly, Mr. Powers."
Mr. Fixx ended the connection and put the cell phone away, looking at the body. Then he turned around and left the alley, leaving the body behind.
Every day was another challenge. That's what she always thought. And today it was the Jokerz.
No matter how many they put away, more kept popping up. It was enough to drive the police force wild. This wasn't any ordinary gang. They were dangerous in more ways than one. And one way would be their namesake.
Barbara Gordon rubbed the back of her neck, tiredly, catching her reflection in the window separating her office from the main police department. Her hair was short and white, glasses donning the older face. She never approved of the way she looked. Once long ago she was able to look in at her reflection and beam at the flaming red hair and trim body. She was still fit, but age changed everything.
Wild yelling burst out through her door and she looked up to see two more Jokerz being dragged in through the front doors. They were two young men, dressed in loud plaid suits and white make-up smeared across their faces. Their hair was a wild rainbow of color red lipstick had been used to draw circles on their cheeks and around their mouths.
She sighed, listening to their loud protests. It was the same thing every time. 'I was made to do it!' 'It wasn't me!' and her personal favorite; 'you guys can't take a joke, can you?'
It just wasn't funny anymore.
She just couldn't understand why a group of teens would ever idolize the Joker. He was long gone and still his influence was fresh throughout the city. It made her sick.
Just as long as the Joker himself isn't around.
"Commissioner," a voice spoke up, and one of the officers appeared in the doorway. "Time to do the usual interrogation."
She sighed again, getting up from the desk. "Thank you, Jerry," she told him, "be right there."
He nodded and left, leaving her to get ready. She tossed the papers she had been sorting through earlier aside.
Today was another day.
Terry didn't like going home most of the time. If he had the choice to choose where he'd rather stay, it would be out of the house or with his friends. Since he really didn't have much of a choice and no job at the moment, neither option was realistic.
Taking the steps that led up to his family's apartment two at time he reached the top and headed down to his door. For a moment he wandered where his key was, then remembered and got it out. Sliding it through the lock the door beeped and he pushed it open.
No one greeted him at first, but he didn't care. His mother was in the kitchen all dressed up and rummaging through the fridge.
He set his backpack down on the counter, watching her.
"I'll be leaving in a couple of minutes for the business meeting," she said to him, "and your father is in his office. He might be leaving in a couple of hours for work so I have some TV dinners for you to nuke."
"Okay," he said tonelessly as she set out two dinners on the counter.
"Two minutes, rotate, then another two. Don't let Matt eat when it's too hot and remember that he doesn't like peas. Even so don't let him dump it, it's good for him."
"Sure," he said, "artificial peas. Can't get much healthier than that."
"You never know," she said cheerily, rounding the counter to hug him. She grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll be back around ten. Trust you won't get into too much trouble."
"Okay Mom."
He turned and watched as she left through the front door. He heard it click as she locked it behind her, then turned to head for his room.
In order to get to his room he had to pass his father's office down the hallway. Normally it was closed, but today it was ajar and he could see his Dad seated behind his mahogany desk, head bent over whatever he was doing. The computer was on beside him.
He considered saying at least 'hey' to him, but Terry passed on that opportunity and continued on to his room.
The apartment got smaller as he went deeper down the hall, getting quieter as he left the main rooms toward his own. Stepping into his bedroom he closed the door behind him and plopped down on the bed.
His hair was still damp from the shower earlier. When he left the locker room Coach had been standing in the gym, watching the other teammates. He saw Terry crossing and stared, almost as if waiting for him to come and apologize.
Oh no. No way. Terry was not about to apologize for anything.
Nelson hadn't made it any better. He made a show of watching Terry leave, nudging the other players and saying something to make them snicker. It was all he could do not to run across the gym that moment and pelt Nelson across the face. But he couldn't do that. Dana was still there and he didn't want to give a bad impression of himself.
"You're not staying?" she had asked, running up to him. Her long black locks bounced as she approached and she flashed one of her heartwarming smiles.
"Wish I could," he had told her, "but I have to go home anyway, watch Matt."
"Did Jared talk to you?"
"Yup. If anything goes well I'll give you a call and set up a club where we can meet."
"Great." She grinned and kissed him. "See you then."
"Count on it."
Now here he was, lying on his bed and wondering if he would ever be able to meet up with her later that night.
Getting up she crossed over to his desk where he usually stashed all his schoolwork. Opening the bottom drawer he looked down at the pile of F and D papers and winced. Not only had he been kicked off the wrestling team, but also if he had stayed any longer he would've been forced out anyway from his grades.
The phone rang then and he looked around the room. The cordless wasn't there and he sighed inwardly, opening the door and peeking out into the hallway. If someone weren't going to get that he'd have to walk all the way to the kitchen where-
The ringing stopped and he heard the faint 'hello?' from his Dad's office. Shrugging he closed the door and turned back toward his desk. If he didn't get those make-up papers in soon, he'd flunk out completely.
He was just about to get started when he got the funny feeling that he wasn't alone in the room. He stopped, straining his hears to listen. He thought he had heard shuffling.
Maybe he was wrong.
He started working again when he heard it again. Not heard. Felt. He could feel another presence.
Slowly he got to his feet, arms out, muscles tense. He held his breath, listening. Through the thick silence he could hear his Dad's voice from down the hall, speaking through the phone. He thought he heard 'Terry' being said, but before he could hear anymore something attacked him.
He yelled out in surprise, pitching forward as a small voice cried out, grabbing him around the waist. Terry prepared to swing him off, but stopped abruptly. Giggling had broken the silence.
He looked down to see Matt's smaller arms wrapped around his waist, attempting to pull him off balance. Terry smiled in spite of himself and pulled him off. "What are you trying to do, make me fail?"
"No," his younger brother said, stepping out from behind him, "more or less trying to kill you." His eyes moved down to the papers strewn over the floor. "Wow Terry. You're stupid."
"Thanks. Now get lost, I have work to do."
Matt frowned, crossing his arms. He looked just like Terry, only half his size. He was ten years old and had the same bushy hair his older brother had. They always used to wrestle, but lately Terry had been too preoccupied to engage in the game. "You're supposed to be watching me."
"Aren't you a little too old to have a baby-sitter?"
"Yeah. But you're my brother."
"Unfortunately." Terry gathered the papers and put them back on the desk. He crossed the room to open the door. "Now get lost. Watch TV or something- "
"Terry?"
His father's voice had called his name from the office. Terry hesitated. "Yeah?" he called back.
"Can you come here please?"
He sighed. Behind him Matt was grinning.
"Oooooh, you're in trouble!"
Terry ignored him and walked down the hallway toward his father's office. Pushing the door open he saw Warren McGinnis waiting for him. He had taken his glasses off and was rubbing the back of his neck.
Uh oh.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"I just got off the phone with your Coach," Warren said. "Care to tell me what happened?"
Terry shrugged from the doorway. "Got in a fight."
"That's what Coach said too. Only it wasn't just a fight. It was the result of several fights throughout the semester. What's going on?"
"Nothing."
Warren nodded, sitting up. "Nothing. Sure. Then Coach told me that even if you hadn't been kicked out now, you probably would have later because of your grades. According to him you're failing nearly all of them."
Terry started. "Not wrestling. I wasn't failing that-"
"I don't care about wrestling." Warren voice was sterner now. "We need to talk Terry. You've been getting a little out of hand lately with your temper and your grades or falling."
Terry clenched his teeth together. He didn't need this right now. He had had enough with talking. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Oh really? Seems to me that if you don't bring up your grades you're going to flunk right out of High School."
Terry sighed exasperatedly. "Why do you expect me to do all these things, Dad? I'm not this school whiz like you!"
"You watch what you say!" Warren said, getting to his feet. Terry stood his ground.
"Why can't you just leave me alone about this? It's my life, I'll do what I want with it!"
"No you won't!" His father yelled back, "you're not eighteen yet, and if I let you do what you want to do you'll end up with a dead end job!"
"Stop telling me what to do."
"You're capable of so many things Terry, you just have to set your mind to it! Lately you've been letting this temper get ahead of you and if you don't stop-"
"I won't become some scientist like you?" Terry punched angrily at the doorframe.
"Stop it!" Warren yelled, "you're starting to get impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah, impossible," Terry said sarcastically. "Forget this, I'm out of here."
"Don't you walk out on me while we're talking Terry."
"Too late. I'm gone."
He left the room, leaving his father standing there. He listened as his son stormed angrily around the house, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet, before leaving the apartment, slamming the door shut.
He closed his eyes briefly, sinking back into his chair. All the weight he had forgone that day came back to him as he put his hands to his forehead.
He sat there for a few minutes like that, thinking. A small voice interrupted it, causing him to look up.
Matt was standing in the doorway timidly. He looked a little taken aback by the fight as he said quietly, "Jason called and wanted to know if I could go over to his house."
Warren sighed, looking at him. "Are his parents coming to pick you up?"
"Yeah."
"Okay then. Don't be gone too late."
"I won't."
Warren watched him leave, silently hoping Mat would never grow up to behave like his older brother. It was too much.
Rubbing his eyes he put his glasses back on and tried to pay attention to the computer screen in front of him.
Stewart ran wildly through the dark alleys, his chest heaving and his legs aching with pain. He couldn't stop running. He glanced back, eyes wide with fright as he continued around the corner, nearly slipping on the soiled ground as he took the turn.
Behind him he could hear footsteps, heavy footsteps following. They were getting closer and closer, no matter how fast Stewart was running. He couldn't seem to run fast enough.
Sweat poured down the sides of his face as he took another turn, this time loosing his footing and sliding on the ground. He cried out in pain as he hit the ground hard, wrenching his right shoulder. He climbed back to his feet and continued on, gasping for air.
He had no idea where he was now. Everything looked foreign to him. He could hear noise in the far distance and got the idea he was near the downtown area. Other than that he was lost.
The alleyways were getting darker and he had a hard time telling where he was stepping. He could hear scurrying as the rats darted away from him, exited at his presence.
Then he came to a dead end.
He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible.
"No," he murmured, looking around wildly. "No, no, no!" He checked the doors leading into different rooms, but they were all locked. He could feel the fear lifting to its new high, consuming him. He could barely breath anymore. His whole body shook as he turned around.
Another figure stepped away from the shadows, almost as if it had been waiting for him to get there. He was a big man with short spiky hair and a scar running down his face. It was the same man who had been watching him and Warren earlier that day.
"No, no, please, I beg you!" Stewart pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. "I didn't do anything, I don't know anything, please don't-"
"Don't what?" The man asked, raising a gun. "Kill you?"
He fired and Stewart let out a strangled, wet cry, spinning around and hitting the ground. The man stepped forward, raising the gun skyward.
"That's an excellent idea."
He checked the man over. Stewart was lying on his stomach, arms and legs spread out, eyes wide. He was dead.
Straightening up the scarred man took a cell phone out from his pocket and raised it to his ear. It rang a couple of times before someone answered. A man.
"Powers."
The man stared down at Stewart, tucking the gun away. "I got him."
There was a long pause. The man bent down, searching the scientist for identification. Finally the man on the other line answered.
"Excellent Mr. Fixx. Who else knows?"
Mr. Fixx straightened up, Stewart's wallet and keys in his hands. "Just one other." He tucked them in his pocket.
"Good. Get rid of him."
"Gladly, Mr. Powers."
Mr. Fixx ended the connection and put the cell phone away, looking at the body. Then he turned around and left the alley, leaving the body behind.