Chapter 3: Into the Depths
The Story Thus Far: Bullock suspects Det. Allen is holding back in their investigation of the firebombing of Commissioner Gordon's home; Gordon has a call from Cassandra Cain/Batgirl; Two-Face and Penguin escape from Arkham with some help from Ivy's garden; Ivy continues to monitor Two-Face and Penguin for Bruce Wayne while expressing concern at Bruce's detached behaviour; Harley mentions her feelings for Bruce as she coldly states how "someday soon, I'm going to show him just HOW MUCH he means to me…"
…
It's a fitful night's rest for the red and green duo of Harley and Ivy onboard the Wayne yacht Somnambulist. Neither can quite pin the cause for the unrest. Perhaps it is the continued sound of lapping waves being cut across by the ship's hull, or the continued bobbing motion, or the thought that this ship is completely under robotic control and that a single short circuit could cause them to vanish from the face of the earth. Or maybe it's that feeling, that creepy sensation that haunts most insomniacs, of a presence nearby, no, not just nearby, but all around. A million eyes staring in silence…
Ivy awakens with a start and turns towards the porthole. Greeting her is one of those eyes and she gasps.
"It's just a fish," a deep, calm voice calls. She turns towards it and is startled by the presence of her host, Bruce Wayne, captain of industry, complete with handsome features save for a scar on either cheek that creates a permanent grin effect.
Shaking her head briefly to regain her composure she grows angry, "And how long have you been standing there?"
Bruce puts a finger to his lips to ask for silence as he points towards a slumbering Harley Quinn on the bed. He then offers his hand to Ivy and they are soon walking towards the ship's nerve center, a glass covered room allowing complete exterior visibility. Ivy is stunned at the sight. Last night this ship was above land and the sky was the limit. Now she is greeted by an underwater wonderland of the exotic and magnificent. A school of fish swims across the bow as she gazes.
"I submerged the ship last night," Bruce begins, "We're almost to our destination and we can't afford to be spotted. Not yet anyway."
"Spotted? Who…?" Ivy asks, still amazed by the sights before her. Bruce remains silent, and of course Ivy is unable to read his thoughts on the matter, her emotion blinding her.
"You and Harley have been good companions, Ivy," and she turns, surprised he'd even admit that much, "But from here on the situation will change, it will become…dangerous. You can stay onboard if you want and I'll have another ship rendezvous to take you back…"
Ivy smiles, slightly confused, "What about Harley?"
"Harley's a part of this, whether she realizes it or not."
Bruce's curt reply does nothing to clear the air and Ivy shakes her head, "I don't understand."
Bruce Wayne's eyes become cold and distant as his voice changes into a gravel like monotony that was all too familiar to Gotham's night life, "You're familiar of the night Joker shot Harley. The police, ambulance and hospital staff kept her heart beating, forcing her to live, but just barely. She was touch and go, and shortly after she was placed into the intensive care ward her heart gave out and she…she was dead."
"Impossible! She…"
"I've seen the report," Bruce interjects, "The doctors ordered her body picked up and prepped for burial. Only, when the orderly came by a half hour later with a gurney he found her sitting up in bed, alive and well, her wound apparently completely healed. I don't believe in miracles, Ivy."
"You think I…?"
Bruce shakes his head, "No. You've gained some power since last we've tangled, but I don't believe resurrection is in your repertoire. No, I'm pretty sure I know who orchestrated this, and on how, but what I don't know is why. It's almost like a calling card, you understand, a factor traceable in the bloodstream, like the spores that keep you immune from poisons. It's as if they were calling me out, and I don't like it. Harley's staying with me until I find out what this is all about."
"Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer," Ivy whispers, "Is that what all this is about?"
Bruce's stare becomes near unbearable, "I don't trust anyone, Ivy, least of all myself."
"If you tell me who's responsible…"
But her plea is cut short as they collectively hear Harley's scream from the bedroom. She's just discovered her new finny friends.
…
"In some places you go, you just get the feeling that you don't belong. That good and decent people are unwanted as the huddled masses move about in aimless wandering, and outsiders are shunned for no other reason than they represent an unwelcome alternative, leading away from the continuous doldrums into the schism of night and day, of what might be and can be. This is such a place."
"That's downright eloquent Joe," the gruff voice of Det. Harvey Bullock interjects. They flash their badges and are allowed entry into the room of one of the patients, once occupied it now sits tossed and bare. They set on their task of searching for a clue to shed some light on any future schemes by one of Gotham's most dangerous psychopaths.
"The police were here earlier," a voice calls from behind, its tone smooth as silk, "I doubt you'll find anything."
"Dr. Arkham," Harvey pauses. He turns to speak to the doctor as Det. Allen continues his search, "This is your nuthouse so maybe you could answer a few of our questions."
"I've already spoken to several detectives," Dr. Jeremiah Arkham replies coyly, "And I would thank you to not call the asylum a 'nuthouse.' We cure mental illness, and YOU of all people should respect that."
Bullock bites his tongue and tries to ask a question instead, "Did Two-Face…"
"As I've said, I do not know where Harvey Dent is, or what he may have planned. Nor do I know where Oswald Cobblepot is, or what he has planned. Can you leave now?" Dr. Arkham finishes, his tone growing in frustration.
"That's not what I wanted to know," Bullock tersely replies through clenched teeth, "What I was going to ask, before you butted in, was if Mr. Half and Half spoke of the Commissioner at all?"
Dr. Arkham's eyes light up briefly, "What? Gordon? Sometimes he did…why?"
"How did he feel about the Commissioner?"
"Not that well, I'm afraid. It's true he did hold the Commissioner in high regard, but since their last encounter Harvey's attitude has changed dramatically. I'd almost say he hates the Commissioner. I don't know what passed between the two of them, but whatever it was, it must have been fierce," Dr. Arkham answers as he rubs his scalp.
"Thanks doc," Bullock replies with more relief than anything, "That's all I need. We'll be out of your hair now, so why don't you go scare up some work or something, we'll show ourselves out."
Dr. Arkham leaves in a huff and once he's out of sight Bullock turns towards Det. Allen who continues to search, "Find anything?"
"Seems not," Allen mutters, stopping his search. As he rises up Bullock could make out just the tip of a piece of paper jutting from one of Allen's trench coat pockets. He pretends to ignore it, "Let's get going."
"Aren't we going to search the Penguin's room?" Allen counters. Bullock shrugs his shoulders in reply, "The birdman was only in for a couple of days, so what's he going to do? Write his master plan out for us? Besides, the others have already ransacked it by now and all I really wanted was a chat with Jeremiah."
As they walk out they pass several other cells, each door etched with the name of its occupant. Bullock abruptly stops at one that rings a familiar bell. He opens the observation window in the door and peers inside, "Hey whacko! Hey! Are you in there?"
A grinning fool jumps forth, trapped in a strait jacket with only his black hair and round, mad eyes visible, "If it isn't the fat arm of the law! Have you come for the Tuesday night special?" the rogue winks with a grin. "This week is meatloaf, but you must answer the riddle if you want me to share!"
"Where's Two-Face gone?" Bullock yells, in no mood for games.
"Tut-tut! I am the quizmaster here!" the Riddler rebuffs Bullock, "Now where was I? Oh yes! When is a man dead on, but not what he appears to be? Answer that and you'll know all!"
"Is it about Two-Face?"
The Riddler only laughs, forcing Bullock to slam the window shut in disgust, "Whack job."
As they reach the steps leading to the main gate Bullock pauses to light a cigar. As the fine roll begins to burn he inhales deeply and exhales a short puff of smoke, "Tell me Allen, you ever run into Two-Face?"
"Nah," is his only response.
"Be glad for small mercies," he concludes with another puff of smoke. Looking towards the lush mid-December garden, the source of escape, Bullock takes his still smouldering match and tosses it at the green. The recent rain has made the plants too moist to ignite and Bullock sighs as they move towards the car.
'You're a liar, Allen,' he muses silently to himself, 'That puts you on a very slippery slope, and I'm going to shove you off the edge…'
TO BE CONTINUED…
The Story Thus Far: Bullock suspects Det. Allen is holding back in their investigation of the firebombing of Commissioner Gordon's home; Gordon has a call from Cassandra Cain/Batgirl; Two-Face and Penguin escape from Arkham with some help from Ivy's garden; Ivy continues to monitor Two-Face and Penguin for Bruce Wayne while expressing concern at Bruce's detached behaviour; Harley mentions her feelings for Bruce as she coldly states how "someday soon, I'm going to show him just HOW MUCH he means to me…"
…
It's a fitful night's rest for the red and green duo of Harley and Ivy onboard the Wayne yacht Somnambulist. Neither can quite pin the cause for the unrest. Perhaps it is the continued sound of lapping waves being cut across by the ship's hull, or the continued bobbing motion, or the thought that this ship is completely under robotic control and that a single short circuit could cause them to vanish from the face of the earth. Or maybe it's that feeling, that creepy sensation that haunts most insomniacs, of a presence nearby, no, not just nearby, but all around. A million eyes staring in silence…
Ivy awakens with a start and turns towards the porthole. Greeting her is one of those eyes and she gasps.
"It's just a fish," a deep, calm voice calls. She turns towards it and is startled by the presence of her host, Bruce Wayne, captain of industry, complete with handsome features save for a scar on either cheek that creates a permanent grin effect.
Shaking her head briefly to regain her composure she grows angry, "And how long have you been standing there?"
Bruce puts a finger to his lips to ask for silence as he points towards a slumbering Harley Quinn on the bed. He then offers his hand to Ivy and they are soon walking towards the ship's nerve center, a glass covered room allowing complete exterior visibility. Ivy is stunned at the sight. Last night this ship was above land and the sky was the limit. Now she is greeted by an underwater wonderland of the exotic and magnificent. A school of fish swims across the bow as she gazes.
"I submerged the ship last night," Bruce begins, "We're almost to our destination and we can't afford to be spotted. Not yet anyway."
"Spotted? Who…?" Ivy asks, still amazed by the sights before her. Bruce remains silent, and of course Ivy is unable to read his thoughts on the matter, her emotion blinding her.
"You and Harley have been good companions, Ivy," and she turns, surprised he'd even admit that much, "But from here on the situation will change, it will become…dangerous. You can stay onboard if you want and I'll have another ship rendezvous to take you back…"
Ivy smiles, slightly confused, "What about Harley?"
"Harley's a part of this, whether she realizes it or not."
Bruce's curt reply does nothing to clear the air and Ivy shakes her head, "I don't understand."
Bruce Wayne's eyes become cold and distant as his voice changes into a gravel like monotony that was all too familiar to Gotham's night life, "You're familiar of the night Joker shot Harley. The police, ambulance and hospital staff kept her heart beating, forcing her to live, but just barely. She was touch and go, and shortly after she was placed into the intensive care ward her heart gave out and she…she was dead."
"Impossible! She…"
"I've seen the report," Bruce interjects, "The doctors ordered her body picked up and prepped for burial. Only, when the orderly came by a half hour later with a gurney he found her sitting up in bed, alive and well, her wound apparently completely healed. I don't believe in miracles, Ivy."
"You think I…?"
Bruce shakes his head, "No. You've gained some power since last we've tangled, but I don't believe resurrection is in your repertoire. No, I'm pretty sure I know who orchestrated this, and on how, but what I don't know is why. It's almost like a calling card, you understand, a factor traceable in the bloodstream, like the spores that keep you immune from poisons. It's as if they were calling me out, and I don't like it. Harley's staying with me until I find out what this is all about."
"Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer," Ivy whispers, "Is that what all this is about?"
Bruce's stare becomes near unbearable, "I don't trust anyone, Ivy, least of all myself."
"If you tell me who's responsible…"
But her plea is cut short as they collectively hear Harley's scream from the bedroom. She's just discovered her new finny friends.
…
"In some places you go, you just get the feeling that you don't belong. That good and decent people are unwanted as the huddled masses move about in aimless wandering, and outsiders are shunned for no other reason than they represent an unwelcome alternative, leading away from the continuous doldrums into the schism of night and day, of what might be and can be. This is such a place."
"That's downright eloquent Joe," the gruff voice of Det. Harvey Bullock interjects. They flash their badges and are allowed entry into the room of one of the patients, once occupied it now sits tossed and bare. They set on their task of searching for a clue to shed some light on any future schemes by one of Gotham's most dangerous psychopaths.
"The police were here earlier," a voice calls from behind, its tone smooth as silk, "I doubt you'll find anything."
"Dr. Arkham," Harvey pauses. He turns to speak to the doctor as Det. Allen continues his search, "This is your nuthouse so maybe you could answer a few of our questions."
"I've already spoken to several detectives," Dr. Jeremiah Arkham replies coyly, "And I would thank you to not call the asylum a 'nuthouse.' We cure mental illness, and YOU of all people should respect that."
Bullock bites his tongue and tries to ask a question instead, "Did Two-Face…"
"As I've said, I do not know where Harvey Dent is, or what he may have planned. Nor do I know where Oswald Cobblepot is, or what he has planned. Can you leave now?" Dr. Arkham finishes, his tone growing in frustration.
"That's not what I wanted to know," Bullock tersely replies through clenched teeth, "What I was going to ask, before you butted in, was if Mr. Half and Half spoke of the Commissioner at all?"
Dr. Arkham's eyes light up briefly, "What? Gordon? Sometimes he did…why?"
"How did he feel about the Commissioner?"
"Not that well, I'm afraid. It's true he did hold the Commissioner in high regard, but since their last encounter Harvey's attitude has changed dramatically. I'd almost say he hates the Commissioner. I don't know what passed between the two of them, but whatever it was, it must have been fierce," Dr. Arkham answers as he rubs his scalp.
"Thanks doc," Bullock replies with more relief than anything, "That's all I need. We'll be out of your hair now, so why don't you go scare up some work or something, we'll show ourselves out."
Dr. Arkham leaves in a huff and once he's out of sight Bullock turns towards Det. Allen who continues to search, "Find anything?"
"Seems not," Allen mutters, stopping his search. As he rises up Bullock could make out just the tip of a piece of paper jutting from one of Allen's trench coat pockets. He pretends to ignore it, "Let's get going."
"Aren't we going to search the Penguin's room?" Allen counters. Bullock shrugs his shoulders in reply, "The birdman was only in for a couple of days, so what's he going to do? Write his master plan out for us? Besides, the others have already ransacked it by now and all I really wanted was a chat with Jeremiah."
As they walk out they pass several other cells, each door etched with the name of its occupant. Bullock abruptly stops at one that rings a familiar bell. He opens the observation window in the door and peers inside, "Hey whacko! Hey! Are you in there?"
A grinning fool jumps forth, trapped in a strait jacket with only his black hair and round, mad eyes visible, "If it isn't the fat arm of the law! Have you come for the Tuesday night special?" the rogue winks with a grin. "This week is meatloaf, but you must answer the riddle if you want me to share!"
"Where's Two-Face gone?" Bullock yells, in no mood for games.
"Tut-tut! I am the quizmaster here!" the Riddler rebuffs Bullock, "Now where was I? Oh yes! When is a man dead on, but not what he appears to be? Answer that and you'll know all!"
"Is it about Two-Face?"
The Riddler only laughs, forcing Bullock to slam the window shut in disgust, "Whack job."
As they reach the steps leading to the main gate Bullock pauses to light a cigar. As the fine roll begins to burn he inhales deeply and exhales a short puff of smoke, "Tell me Allen, you ever run into Two-Face?"
"Nah," is his only response.
"Be glad for small mercies," he concludes with another puff of smoke. Looking towards the lush mid-December garden, the source of escape, Bullock takes his still smouldering match and tosses it at the green. The recent rain has made the plants too moist to ignite and Bullock sighs as they move towards the car.
'You're a liar, Allen,' he muses silently to himself, 'That puts you on a very slippery slope, and I'm going to shove you off the edge…'
TO BE CONTINUED…