CHAPTER 12
As the hours grew into days, the Joker integrated himself more and more into Callisto's band, until his utter ruthlessness impressed her enough to appoint him second-in-command. It was a meteoric rise, unprecedented. And the fact was not lost on the Clown Prince of Crime.
This was his kind of woman! Never had he met such a complete match for his own depravity. In fact, so close were they to each other that it was almost scary, even to him.
Ho, ho, Harley would be jealous, he thought with mirth. And with good reason - he had begun to feel the stirrings of things he long thought dead.
In some sick, twisted way, the two were drawn to one another. Something about their mutual perversity sparked a grotesque parody of developing feelings between the two.
Not trusting each other for a moment, yet revealing innermost 'hurts'. Incapable of love, yet 'feeling' for one another. Solitary by nature, but always together. Two peas in a twisted, blackened pod. Perhaps even monsters may know 'love' of a sort?
Lovers/enemies/together/autonomous, they rode at the head of the band of cutthroats. Whatever their relationship, it was one of some sort.
The similarities between the two were astounding. The people they blamed their current lot in life on also happened to be their bitterest enemies.
Xena, Callisto maintained, was the one who had slaughtered her village, killing her family and making her the woman she was today.
While the Joker couldn't go back that far, it was the combination of losing his loved ones with being caused to fall into a vat of chemicals by Batman that made the Joker the man he was today. Both mentally and physically.
Both reveled in bloodshed, and took delight in others' suffering.
And most of all, both were considered by the rest of society to be totally, utterly, irrevocably, insane. A title they wore like a badge. Hard knocks in life had broken them; they had allowed their anger and sorrow to overwhelm their better nature, banishing it to the very furthest corners of their minds. They had let madness in, and embraced it. So similar not only to each other, but to the people they branded as the cause of it all. But whereas they had pushed back the darkness, Callisto and the Joker had not.
So it was with the most unholy of matrimonies that the two rained down on hapless villages with fire and steel. Unchecked, and unchallenged. But Callisto assured the Joker that that would change soon. That 'Xena' would find them: all they had to do was wait.
That was fine with the Joker, because he had all the time in the world…
***
He'd been following the girl for an hour before they came upon a town or village of some sort. Slipping from shadow to shadow, Robin took stock of the situation.
From the writing on the signs denoting the merchants' stalls, he was now reasonably sure that he was in Greece. Ancient Greece obviously, but just how ancient he couldn't tell yet.
Now that he'd assessed that he truly wasn't in his era anymore, the implications began to hit him.
What was he going to do? He was stuck in the past with no way to get home. He didn't know how to build a time machine, and even if he did, he doubted the materials he needed existed in this time.
"Whoa, whoa," he told himself, taking deep breaths. Can't let the fear take over, he had to keep a clear head about this, had to say focused. What would Batman do in a situation like this?
Batman. And what about him? For the first time, the Boy Wonder wondered what had become of his mentor.
If he, Robin, had survived the blast, it was fair to assume that Batman might have as well. But had he been thrown through time as well, or was he still back in Gotham? Either scenario left him with options.
If Batman were back in Gotham, he'd be working on a way to rescue Robin right now, so all he had to do was sit tight.
If Batman had instead been thrust into the past, then Robin could try contacting him, though there was no guarantee that they'd ended up in the same age.
And even if Batman were in the past as well, there'd still be people working to bring them home. Once they realized the Dynamic Duo hadn't died in the explosion, they'd put two and two together and come get them somehow.
So with all these options, there was no reason to panic. Robin calmed down, once more the no-nonsense partner of the Bat.
It was while mulling over what to do next that Fate chose for him.
"—And one of those." Gabrielle said, indicating a jar on the upper shelf. Handing over the dinars, she completed the transaction.
She'd wanted some scented oil for a while now. If she was going to pamper herself, she might as well go the whole way. Putting the jar carefully in her carry case, she headed across the village square in search of the 'Great White Bargain'.
Just then, a large group of men emerged from the tavern across the way. Loud and roughhousing with one another, they reeked of cheap ale and nuts. Rowdy and in high spirits, they were just as obviously drunk.
Singing snatches from half forgotten songs, and leaning on each other for support, Gabrielle watched as they made their way across the square.
Drunken men plus provocation equals bad news. Gabrielle knew this as well as anyone, and keeping it in mind, hurried her steps so as not to get in their way. But the elderly couple shuffling along was not so quick. While trying to not make eye contact, they were too slow to miss detection by the men.
"'Ey, lookee 'ere!" One of the drunkards said, pointing to the old folks. "Eggs!"
Indeed, the couple was carrying between them several baskets full of eggs to be sold at the market. Stumbling over, one of the men grabbed a basket, upsetting its contents.
"Lemmee see that!" he said, trying to wrestle the basket from the old man's hands.
"Leave it alone, yer great gallopn' grub! Get yer mitts offa our eggs!"
"Hey, lighten up mister," another man said, coming up from behind. "We're just hav'n some fun."
"Hey, lookit me!" One of the men had grabbed a handful of eggs and started juggling them. However, in his current condition the coordination just wasn't there, and the end result were several broken eggs littering the ground.
"Now look 'ere you—"
"Can it pops," The old man was shaken roughly.
Forcibly, the couple was divested of their load, and was being increasingly roughhoused.
Gabrielle had seen enough. It was obvious no one else was going to help them, and while there were ten of them and one of her, she just couldn't let them do this. It wasn't right.
So, acting more bravely than she felt, Gabriele resolutely made her way towards the knot of men.
Determinedly gripping her staff, Gabrielle barked out in her best Xena impression, "Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
"Beat it girlie," was the dismissive response.
Now Gabrielle didn't have to imagine Xena to steel herself, she was peeved.
"Hey!" She squeaked out. "I'm talking to you. Drop those eggs."
The man who had spoken before pointedly dropped the basket he was holding, splattering the contents on the ground.
"Oh, that was mature…"
"Get lost," the man said again. "'Afore we decide we likes your eggs better." Laughing, the group increased their shoving.
"I'm warning you, leave them alone!"
Turning back to her, the man advanced, a leer on his face. "Whatcho gonna do?"
Reacting, Gabrielle lashed out with her staff, catching the man in the face. She followed it up by using the other end to sweep his legs out from under him, watching him fall with a satisfying 'thunk'.
"'Ey!" The couple forgotten, the men moved in on Gabrielle en masse.
The first clutched at his stomach, while the man next to him had his head rocked back, courtesy of the bard's staff. Arms, legs, nothing was safe as Gabrielle lit into the group. Their howls of laughter quickly became cries of pain.
But while she was determined and skilled, there was something to be said for raw numbers. It wasn't too long before someone grabbed her staff. And while trying to wrestle it back, someone deftly pinned her arms to her sides. But before they could do anything, the men were set upon by another maelstrom of fury.
Robin had seen enough.
Releasing his collapsible Bo staff, the Boy Wonder had crossed the distance and went at the thugs. A whirlwind of red and green, he laid the men low left and right. No sooner did one see his compatriot kneel over in pain, than he himself was popped upside the head.
Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Gabrielle wrenched free of the grip that held her and managed to grab back her staff. Thus armed, she made to imitate the stranger, and once more thwacked about.
Working from opposite ends, the dynamic duo tore through their foes like a thresher through wheat. Bo and staff lashed out to inflict much needed, and far overdue, justice.
Ducking, Robin avoided a punch, and using the end of his Bo, he struck at the man's gut, being rewarded by the "oomph!" of air rushing from lungs. Then, using him as leverage, Robin hauled the man from his feet and sent him flying through the air to crash into his comrades.
Gabrielle whirled around from dispatching yet another opponent only to find none left. All around them, men were groaning in pain. It was only then that Gabrielle got a good look at her ally.
She had seen many a strange thing in her short association with Xena, but never had Gabrielle beheld anything quite like the figure before her.
She was startled to see that her would be savior was a boy, even younger than she was. But this surprise was shadowed by incredulity at his manner of dress.
Bright red and green stared out at Gabrielle. She'd never seen anything so colorful in her life. He looked like some bizarre refuge from a traveling carnival, what with the red breast, green tights, and mask. And then there was the belt and cape… In fact, the more she looked at him, the more Gabrielle thought he resembled a bird, like a robin.
Not only that, but he carried a staff like her. And judging from things, he was as good, or even better with it than she was. The thought caused a brief flicker of annoyance.
Not quite sure what to say to the stranger, Gabrielle decided on the straight tack. Sticking out her arm she introduced herself.
"I'm Gabrielle, thanks for, uh, helping out." She finished awkwardly.
"Looked like you didn't need any," Robin replied, sensing both Gabrielle's and his own unease.
He then took the proffered hand, not arm, and shook it. Gabrielle was intrigued by the deviation of greeting.
"Yeah, well, it looks like you didn't do so badly yourself," she said, looking around once more at the groaning heaps of people.
A long silence ensued as each tried to think of something to say when finally Gabrielle blurted out, "Who are you?"
***
When she had come to, Xena found herself in the ruins of a half burned hut, being tended to by an old woman without the benefit of teeth. Confused, she couldn't understand how she'd gotten there. But when she looked around, it all came back to her.
The burned out village, the scavenger, the mysterious stranger, the ensuring fight, and finally the moonlit image of the man hovering over her.
She was both chagrinned and puzzled. Embarrassed because she had lost the fight and puzzled because by all rights she should be dead.
The man's skills had equaled her own; he had even used a nerve pinch to put her down. And yet it hadn't been a killing blow. He had spared her life. The million-dinar question now was 'why'?
He had said at the outset that he hadn't wanted to fight - that much Xena remembered through the rage filled haze she had felt. If he truly hadn't wanted to fight, then it would make sense for his not wanting to kill her. But then, why had he spoken up for the scavenger? And what was he doing here to begin with? And most important of all, who was he?
To that last question, Xena already knew the answer, or at least some version of it. He had called himself 'Batman' - that Xena distinctly remembered. And a 'Batman' he had been, she realized.
The pointed 'ears' of his hood, the flowing cape simulating a bat's wings, the primarily dark colors. Even his uncanny skills had been worked with the precision of a bat. Yes, 'Batman' perfectly described the man.
Now the question remained as to what this 'Batman' had been doing so near to one of Callisto's recently destroyed villages.
Asking around, Xena had been astonished to learn that this 'Batman' had carried her into the village. Leaving her with the inhabitants, he proceeded to ask in great detail what had happened here. The fact that his departure led the same way as Callisto's horde did nothing to assuage her suspicions. But the far more important thing was to catch up with Callisto. The mystery of the Batman would just have to wait.
Getting her gear together, and thanking the villagers for taking care of her, Xena rounded up Argo and started back out onto the trail.
***
Batman had been impressed by the woman's remarkable skill, the possession of which puzzled him.
From the speech and dress, he'd been able to deduce that he had been thrust into ancient Greece. And by the position of the stars in the night sky, he'd been able to ascertain that he was in 46/47 BC, give or take a couple of years.
Now how does a Greek woman from 46 BC learn skills and acquire weapons from such diverse regions as China and India?
A rare woman it was indeed to have bucked the sociological trends of the day to gain access to, and receive training from, those people and institutions she would have had to learn certain of her fighting skills from.
For instance, to his day the Asians were insular about teaching their fighting arts to the 'Qui-Lo'. Everything from her era, to her ethnicity, to her gender would have been working against her.
The villagers hadn't recognized her, nor did they know what she was there for. The man he'd saved from a beating turned out to be a scavenger of some sort, looting the dead. Disgusted, Batman had turned him over to the villagers.
As it was, the mysterious woman remained the least of Batman's problems. Now that he knew where and when he was, there remained but three questions.
1. Where had the Joker ended up?
2. Where had Robin ended up?
3. How were they (he) to get back home?
He had an idea about number one, which may or may not have a bearing on number two. As for number three, he'd worry about that when the time came.
When he'd seen the condition of the village the night before, he'd been naturally concerned. It seems a warlord of some sort had been through the day before, raping, killing, and pillaging all in their path.
But it was an odd remark that made his already concerned features sharpen. One of the oldsters had mentioned something about a crazily dressed man laughing through it all. It stood out with the oldster for its perverse impropriety.
When asked to elaborate, Batman got a picture that seemed all too familiar. The people said it was almost as if he were a mockery of life, just as he mocked the death he dealt out.
While his lips were red, they were too red. While his face white, too white. And his hair, not red or brown or black or blond, but green. And his clothes, bright, bright as the violets they grow in fields.
But it was his laugh, that horrible, insidious laugh that haunted them the most. Mocking, reveling in the slaughter. That was a sound they would take with them to their graves.
Batman now had no doubt as to where the Joker had ended up. And if both himself and the Joker were here, that boded well for Robin's whereabouts as well. In that case, all that remained was to capture the Joker, find Robin, and figure out a way to get back to their own time.
Robin could handle himself, and there was time enough to think of a way back. The priority at the moment was in apprehending the Joker before any more innocent lives were lost.
Judging by the eyewitness accounts, he'd hooked himself into a roving gang of murderers, and what was more, if the distraught victims were correct, then he not only rode with them, but had insinuated himself into some sort of leadership position.
Batman would have to be careful. He was in hostile territory, in a time not of his choosing. Slipping through the woods like a shadow, he went forth to face his destiny.