"How long's this going to take? I'm freez'n out here."
"It'll take as long as it takes. Now quit 'ya bellyachen'."
Batman could hear them as clear as if he were right next to them.
On the top of an abandoned warehouse, across from where the men on the wharf stood, the Dark Knight lowered the ominoculars from his eyes. Activity around the yard was brisk, but unusually so for this time of night. He'd guessed right, and it looked like Gambono was trying to get his goods out of Gotham fast.
He could see a semi turning the corner and coming to a stop before the 'Magellan Bound'. But it wasn't alone. Following it were four dark sedans, out of which poured large amounts of equally large men in bad suits. Hired muscle. All told, there weren't more than twenty men about, not counting the ship's crew.
Putting a hand to his earpiece, he listened in on the goons' conversation once more.
"—then POW! He went down like a sack of potatoes in the eighth. Lost me a bundle on that fight."
"Hey, what's that?" The second man silenced his partner, holding up a hand to listen. After a minute of straining to hear nothing, the first man started again.
"Ah, it's nuthen. Probably some mangy alley cat or sumpin'."
The second man had turned back around. "Yeah, you're probably rig—" He stopped mid sentence, issued a gurgle, and fell forward.
Gunfire sprang up from everywhere, the people left standing jumped for cover.
"Jumping Jephosaphat! What's happenin'?!" Tommy "The Tuba" Carloni bellowed out above the 'ratatat' of gunfire. He was one of Gambono's top lieutenants and was in charge of tonight's little foray. Which, incidentally, had not promised anything of this nature.
"We're being shot at boss!"
"I know that, ya moron! Who's doin' it?"
Batman had been as surprised as the hoods below when an armored truck came crashing onto the dock, rattling off automatic machine gun fire as it barreled down on the 'Magellan Bound' and the people around it.
The truck had screeched to a halt, its back doors flying open to reveal:
"Hi'yaz peoples!" Harley Quinn burst out, followed by a dozen men strafing the area. "Mista' J sends 'is regards."
Garbed in the checkered outfit of her namesake, the Harlequin, she cut quite a figure. Harley Quinn, formerly Dr. Harleen Quinzel, was the Joker's right hand girl. At first assigned to cure him, she slowly descended into the very madness she sought to free him of. Brainwashed, she fell in love with the Joker, and would do anything for him. The side effects of which not even he had foreseen. While often whimsical, if not childlike, a keen analytical mind lurked beneath the white face paint and goofy demeanor.
"Oh, pretty!" She stopped to take a Rolex from one of the dead mobsters. "It'll make a great welcome back gift."
Batman had seen enough.
***
"It's zat clown girl boss," A thick-set subordinate informed Carloni. "You know, 'dat crazy broad that's always hangn' around 'da Joker."
"I don't care who it is meatball! Kill 'em!"
"Give 'em blood an' vinegar boys!" Harley railed to her 'troops'. "The 'ole college try! The—oomph!" Quinn suddenly found herself sitting down upon the ground—hard. Then, without any notice, pulled backwards until coming to a rest behind crate some distance away.
Surprised, she looked down at the steel cable that encircled her body. And with equal surprise she looked up—into the face of Batman.
"Ah, you again?" she asked with disdain.
"What's your game Quinn?" With all the action going on, no one had noticed the girl's disappearance.
"Ah, blow it out 'yer ear Bat-Boy." She crossed her arms (or would have, had she been able to), clamped her mouth shut, and looked for all the world naught but a stubborn child.
"Don't go away." And with that he made for the action, leaving Quinn tied up.
He came upon two of the Joker's men keeping some of Carloni's forces pinned down.
They never saw it coming.
Stepping past the unconscious heap, Batman continued onward.
***
"Come on, come on!" Carloni extolled his men to move faster. Feeling his own life of more value than the cargo, 'The Tuba' had gathered together what men he could to make a dash for one of the cars they'd arrived in. Their progress was hampered by the running gunfight they were engaged in with the Joker's men. He dived behind a barrel as a bullet whizzed by his ear.
"Hurry up!" he could see the cars clearly now. Not more than a hundred yards away. A hundred yards of open ground…
***
In all the bustle, neither side noticed as he began to pick off their numbers one by one.
"Phil, gimme a hand her—", The thug slumped over, the Batarang having had the desired effect.
"Huh? What do ya—", The second man dropped as well.
Batman continued onward.
***
"Yous' heard what 'da boss wanted, so get 'da lead out!"
Fighting was still going on, but the Joker's men had found what they came for. Grunting, three of them working together managed to pry one of the crates open.
"How'er we know what we're look'n for?" Asked one of them.
"It'll be the only thing in da box," replied the lead thug, while rummaging through the packing material.
"Aha!" he cried, pulling his hand free to reveal a small, palmed size box.
"All'a this just for that?" one of them let out incredulously. But before he could say anything more, he was roughly thrown into one of his cohorts, sending them both sprawling to the pier.
"It's Batman!" one of them yelled, before joining the duo before him. It was at that point when chaos erupted into pandemonium.
***
"What the--?" Carloni scratched his head as he saw the Joker's men, who had seconds before been shooting at him and his boys, suddenly leave off and head back towards the ship.
"Some sorta fracas boss—", The gomba was cut off by a shrill cry: "It's Batman!"
"Come on!" the goon tugged at Carloni's suit, "Now's our chance!"
"Get yous' stink'n hands offa me!" 'The Tuba' pulled away, straightening himself up. Running was now the furthest thing from his mind.
"Yous' heard 'em, the Batman's over dere! It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel, two birds wid one stone!"
It was perfect. While the Joker's hit squad were busy with 'The Bat', his guys could wax the lot of them. He could see it now: Not only would he have seen the goods off, but he'd have iced some of the competition and killed the legendary Batman himself! Gambono'd make him his right hand man. Ma Carloni hadn't raised a fool.
Greed and the lust for power overrode his sense of self-preservation. Where just a minute ago it seemed he'd be lucky to just get away alive, he now stood on the brink of his greatest victory.
Grabbing a gun from one of his bodyguards and giving it a wave, he lead them back into the fray.
***
The Joker's forces had regrouped and were attempting to play a game of 'kill The Bat'. As it was, they were more of a danger to themselves than to him.
He dodged as the man behind him took the bullet instead, felled by his own compatriot. The gunman was taken out with a fist to the jaw. Batman hit the ground and rolled as a trail of automatic gunfire chewed up the dock behind him.
Coming up with a bound, he released a handful of shuriken, silencing several of the gunners, now far too busy nursing their hands to be able to pull a trigger.
Running like a broken field tackler, Batman ducked and weaved, bobbed and crouched, all the while whittling down the Joker's men. Now he heard Carloni's men reentering the fight.
A piling exploded near Batman's head, the fragments ricocheting off his cowl. Enough was enough.
He reached for his utility belt and retrieved a cylinder. Taking a deep breath he pulled the pin and tossed it amongst the fighting mob. A purple cloud erupted over the entire area; the results were immediate.
One by one, and in groups, both sides dropped their weapons and collapsed to the dock, the knockout gas doing its job. In a matter of seconds, the pitched fight had ceased, and all that could be heard was the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship's hull.
Waiting for the cloud to disperse, Batman counted the seconds until it was safe to breathe again. He then started to look over the area. The stuff already aboard the ship was secure enough, so he concerned himself with the material that had still been waiting to be loaded.
The Joker's men had to have wanted something; there was more to this than a routine gangland hit. For starters, the Joker was currently residing in Arkham Asylum. And as far as Batman could ascertain, he hadn't had any outside contact in months. So he couldn't have ordered the hit. And even if he had, it wouldn't have done him much good, being on the inside. And while at times wily, Harley Quinn wasn't the 'Master Criminal' type. The organization and upkeep of a criminal empire was beyond her abilities.
So if it wasn't a routine hit, that meant they must have had a purpose here tonight. The question then shifted to 'what'? Batman gazed at the crates piled up on the dock as his train of thought continued.
The cargo obviously, it being the only feature of interest. Not the cargo itself though, he amended, as he distinctly remembered the Joker's men rooting around for something specific. So what particular item had they been after? Again, the question was 'what'?
He searched the area until he found an open crate. Whatever it had contained was gone, that much could be seen. Not knowing what had been in it, he didn't know what to look for. Still, he cast about searching for anything 'out of place'. Not seeing anything, he took down the information on the crate for further review.
Having gleaned all he could for now, he headed back to where he'd stashed Quinn. Now that he knew what questions to ask, it was time for some answers.
But he was in for his second surprise of the night when he got there. All that remained were the charred remnants of his steel Bat-Line. Quinn had vanished. Kneeling down, he rubbed some sort of left over residue between his gloved fingers. Acid. She'd used it to eat through the line, allowing her to escape.
So Quinn was gone, and so was whatever she'd come for. Something was brewing, and he aimed to find out what it was.
Straightening up, he set out into the night in search of answers.