Title: Night of Knights (4/?)
Author: Lord Maedhros
Rating: R (just to be safe)
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control . . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first
Genre: Action/Adventure
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.
i/ = thoughts
Chapter 4: Batman
Goliath awoke, as always, with the setting of the sun, sending small chips of stone across the rooftop. The mighty Gargoyle threw back his head, bellowing into the night sky. He looked down to the rooftop at his feet, and his eyes flared, blazing white at close to blinding intensity. Without hesitation, he plunged the claws of his left hand into the roof, ripping away a chunk of the material. His right followed, and soon he was tearing mercilessly at the offending surface, gouging a hole large enough for his massive frame to fit through.
Elsewhere in the city, Elisa awoke, as well. She was, to say the least, in a sorry state.
Elisa was soaked to the skin, apparently from the soapy aftermath of a car wash being thrown on her. Her legs were covered in newly dumped garbage, and she hurt everywhere at once.
But I'm alive, she thought. I'm alive, and I escaped.
Painfully, Elisa pushed herself up until she was standing upright in the dumpster. Several large rats were startled in the process, and they scampered away over the piles of trash. Holding on tightly to the edge of the metal, she swung one leg over the edge, then the other, and finally slid down, acquiring yet another cut and opening a large rent in her shirt as she did so. Shivering, Elisa started towards the street. She was very nearly in the middle of the gang when she realized they were present. The small group of men instinctively pursued Elisa back into the alleyway, eventually surrounding her.
"What's this?" one of the gang members asked, looking at Elisa.
"Damn, woman, what happened to you?" said another. He wrinkled his nose at the dumpster smell she carried with her. "She's on our turf, but man, look at her!"
A soft fluttering noise came from overhead, but Elisa thought she must have imagined it. No one else seemed to notice.
"Not my call to make," their apparent leader of the moment remarked. "Sorry, lady, but rules is rules. You trespass here, you pay." He walked slowly towards Elisa, menacing her with a crowbar. Elisa, in no condition to run or fight, could only back away, stumbling. He raised the crowbar, and Elisa covered her head, preparing for the blow.
He never got the chance to strike. Elisa heard a distinct whizzing noise, and she looked up to see the man, still holding the crowbar and staring at his hand, eyes wide with fear. His weapon had been attached to his hand by a thin rope of some sort, weighted and secured by a small but weighty metal disc, formed in the distinctive shape of a bat. The waning light that served the alleyway broke with a soft tinkling noise, plunging the passage into darkness.
As if on cue, the seven occupants of the alleyway looked skyward. A second later, Elisa saw a dark, indeterminate shape appear over the lip of the building. Its wings were scalloped, and it descended slowly, with the artistic grace of a born and bred creature of the night.
"Goliath?" she thought at first. Somehow, though, Elisa knew that wasn't right. A moment later, it didn't matter anymore, because the dark figure touched down, crumpling the man that had been standing over her. She could hear the distinctive crack of bone and cartilage giving way under the assault.
What followed then was a blur of sound and motion, pain and confusion. Elisa crouched against the brick wall of the near building, watching shadows striking at yet darker shadows, listening to the grunts of the combatants; the crack of bones and teeth and the hollow thump of fists on flesh. And there was one shadow, darker than darkness, moving amongst them, felling all of the others in a whirling flurry of motion caught in a moment of brutal violence.
As quickly as the incident started, it was over. Elisa found herself lifted bodily off the ground into a fireman's carry, and then she was airborne, rising quickly straight up the side of the building. The shadow reached the top of the roof, and set her down. The moonlight was much brighter up here, and it afforded Elisa a view of the mysterious shadow she could not have gotten in the dark confines of the alley. It was, Elisa saw, a man, not a gargoyle. He wore a form-fitting suit of dark gray, with black boots, gloves, and a mask that concealed most of his face and head, complete with pointed horns sticking straight up out of his head. A long, flowing black cape, which Elisa had first taken for a pair of leathery wings, completed the ensemble. He spoke to her, his voice deep and resonant.
"Are you all right?" Batman asked simply.
"I-I think so," Elisa answered, her adrenaline rush beginning to pass.
Batman looked at Elisa, his expression unreadable behind the lenses of his cowl. A wave of pity swept over him for her injuries and experience with the dumpster, a feeling which was quickly replaced by respect for her resilience. He could not help but notice that she was strikingly beautiful, excepting, of course, her present condition. No, he chastised himself. That's Bruce Wayne talking, and he has no place here. The Batman took over again, absorbing Elisa's image with a cool objectivity, seeing the need to tend to the beleaguered officer's wounds. Elisa hadn't noticed the change in him, the subtle alteration of posture and manner, which had taken place in under four seconds. He allowed himself a brief moment of relief for that fact, and then he became all business once again.
"Sit down," he instructed. Elisa did so, and Batman knelt at her side, opening a first-aid kit he had apparently left on the roof before entering the alley. He produced a flashlight, looked her over, and began to clean and dress each of Elisa's many cuts and scrapes. In minutes, he was finished. Elisa shivered, and found that she could not stop doing so. Batman reached back, removed his cape, and draped it over Elisa's shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, but it felt very warm. Batman cached the first-aid kit under a stone at the corner of the roof, which he slid back into place. In an instant, the opening was invisible.
"How . . . how did you . . ." she began.
"There are supply caches hidden all over the city. This is one," he replied simply. "Come with me. I will take you someplace safe."
He scooped her up again, and lowered them down to street level. Before her stood a monstrous car, jet-black all over, with a truly enormous hood, a pair of scalloped fins on the rear, and huge, bulging front fenders. It looked like . . . Elisa searched for the words to describe it.
It's like a Corvette on steroids. The sealed windshield and roof slid forward of their own volition, revealing the driver's compartment, with one passenger seat. It seemed more like the cockpit of a fighter aircraft that the passenger cabin of a car. Batman helped her to climb over and into the passenger seat. He, of course, took his place in the driver's seat, and started the engine, which whined like a turbine. Elisa fastened her seat belt, and the Batman did likewise. The hatch slid closed, and the car took off, roaring along the streets of Gotham City.
* * * * *
Back in the alleyway, the small gang was just beginning to pick themselves up after their encounter with the Batman.
"Oh, man," one man groaned, clutching his midsection. "I like, hurt everywhere."
"Was that . . .Him?" another asked. He was nervous even to say what he thought, but the others knew.
"Yeah," one of the more experienced members replied. "Congrats, boys. We just got our asses handed to us by the Bat." He spat blood, and wiggled his newly loosened teeth with his tongue.
"Congratulations indeed, boys! Quite a performance!" The distinctive voice preceded the speaker into the gang's midst. Joker appeared out of the shadows, applauding appreciatively. He set a small lamp down on an old cardboard box to light the narrow space. "I must say, I am glad I went to all this trouble, even if she did escape in the end. Challenging quarry is so much more fun."
"Wh-what's up, Mister J?" the nervous leader of the gang began. Being up against Batman in a fight was scary as hell, but being around Joker was worse than scary. It was terrifying. Feeling a sudden need to defend himself, he tried to explain. "Look, man, we had her! Just like you said, we had her for you! Everything was going fine until that Bat- freak came along!" He stopped suddenly, as a haunting look passed across the Joker's features.
"Batman? Batman, you say? An interesting development, this is. I was really just having a little honest fun this time; I didn't anticipate the Dork Knight getting involved. Oh, well," he paused. "Oh, well, on to bigger and better things, then." He smiled at the gang.
"What? What does that mean?" a younger member of the unfortunate group asked.
"Pull my finger," Joker giggled, beaming. He extended his left hand, index finger pointing. Hesitant, but knowing failure to play along could conceivably be worse; the gang's leader reached out and pulled the Joker's outstretched finger.
"AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!" he screamed, as a thin stream of concentrated acid hit him full in the face. He dropped to his knees, screaming and trying to get the powerful solution off his burning face. The others watched, stunned, as Joker pulled out a large example of an Uzi machine pistol, seemingly from thin air. Without a word, the Joker opened fire on his incidental accomplices, killing them all in one sweeping gesture of his right arm. Bored with the incessant screaming of the acid- faced man, Joker kicked him in the ribs, and then shot him, too. He left the alley as he had come, picking up the small lamp and heading back towards home.
* * * * *
"What the hell was that!?" one of the men asked in alarm, at the loud crashing sounds emanating from the upstairs of the building.
"Couldn't tell ya fer sure, but I'd say we've got some unwanted company, boys," Bones replied confidently. "C'mon, let's take a look." They pulled out their handguns, and headed upstairs.
The stairs creaked underfoot as the small group made their way upstairs. The building was an old one, having long since fallen into disrepair and decay. The light was out, and had been for three weeks, but no one had bothered to fix it in that time. Their flashlight beams preceded them up the stairs, piercing the darkness ahead of the men.
"Over here," one said, signaling from the end of the hall with his light. He entered the room ahead of the others. A moment later, his flashlight clattered to the floor. The beam circled the room, slowing steadily until it settled on the far wall. It didn't move again, and there was no further sound from the room. The light cast a shadow on the wall, showing a scalloped structure at the base of a large section of darkness above. A second later, the shadow disappeared. Bones, in the lead, turned to his companions and mouthed a single word.
Bat.
His companions nodded their acknowledgement, and hefted their weapons. They stayed together in a tight cluster, entering the room with their guns ready. The room was covered in stone dust, along with chunks of concrete, wood, and roofing tar from the large hole that had been torn out of the ceiling. Another hole led straight through the wall, out of the now- empty room. It was clear, too, that no tools had been used to perform this task. Someone had ripped the roof and wall out with their bare hands.
As they stared at the destruction in the room, the wall to the side and behind the small group erupted in a shower of plaster chips and splintering wood. The gang never so much as got a shot off, as Goliath tore through them, teeth bared and eyes blazing white. He waded into the tightly packed men, striking at the terrified gangsters left and right. The mighty Gargoyle's left fist caught the first man low in the gut, pushing him up and straight through the wall to Goliath's right. His tail lashed out at the feet of the second, dropping it's victim to the floor. Goliath whipped his tail back, sending his hapless assailant to join his first fallen companion. His left wing snapped up, breaking a third man's arm at the elbow with a sickening crack of bone. The others followed in short order, none of them a match for the winged warrior's strength at close quarters.
Goliath stopped, and surveyed his surroundings. The air held a musty, stale scent of decay, and the building was obviously deep in disrepair. The massive Gargoyle inhaled deeply, filling his huge lungs with air and passing as many of the local scents through his nostrils as possible. He searched the area through the scents it held; rat droppings, microwave dinners, stale beer and potato chips all came to him. Over everything was a persistent chemical tang that burned slightly at his nostrils, finally seeming to settle at the back of his throat. He searched the third floor thoroughly, going through each room as quickly as he could. Cautiously, Goliath made his way down the stairway, to the second floor of the building. That, too, was deserted, and the huge Gargoyle was just beginning to descend the next set of stairs when the sound of a door slamming shut stopped him in his tracks. Eyes aglow, he reluctantly backed up the stairs to wait and see what the situation was.
"Honey, I'm home!" a thin, whiny voice sang out. "I looked for those cute little cinnamon swirls you like so much, but the man at the store said they were all out again," he continued. "I thought these would look lovely on the . . .hey, now wait a minute, something's not entirely kosher here." He said with a suspicious air. He pulled out a pipe, and busied himself with blowing bubbles from it as he stroked his pointed chin, humming softly to himself.
Goliath had heard enough. He bounded down the final stairway, landing at the base of the stairs with eyes glowing and a growl in his throat. He stepped forward into the light, baring his teeth and assuming a fighting stance, squaring off to the Joker.
"Woo! Careful there, big guy! Something might fall out of that loincloth if you're not careful," Joker addressed Goliath, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of an angry Gargoyle in the room with him. He just stood there, grinning at the behemoth.
"Where is she? What have you done with Elisa Maza?" Goliath roared at him. His eyes seemed to brighten as he spoke.
"Believe it or else, my large grotesque friend, she left our little party of her own meager wit and considerable daring more than twelve hours ago." He smiled at Goliath again. "But don't worry, Batman can't protect her forever! And no one cuts out on my game before it's finished."
"You will never have that chance, murderer!" Goliath roared, and
lunged at the Joker. His quarry, however, disappeared into the floor, dropping through a cleverly concealed trap door. The opening shut solidly, with the sound of metal on thick metal.
Goliath snarled, and plunged his hands into the floor, ripping the metal out of its mounts in the floor supports in one massive surge upwards. He wasted no time, but dove straight through, landing easily on his feet in the basement below. There was no immediate sign of the Joker. It was dark, but Goliath's night- accustomed eyes adjusted quickly. The enraged warrior scanned the room, searching the darkness for his quarry.
Come out and fight, you coward. A tiny pinprick, near the base of Goliath's tail, caused him to turn. Annoyed, he pulled a small hollow dart out of his skin and examined it. It was a tranquilizer dart, the type sometimes used on wild animals. The dart still contained some liquid of a strange green color, visible through the clear plastic tube. What is that imbecile doing? He thought. Drugs? He has no idea what he's dealing with. Goliath continued to search the area. His eyes glowed in intervals, flaring at each unconfirmed noise. Goliath snarled in frustration, and his steel-hard toe claws took chunks out of the cement floor as he tensed his muscles. Another dart hit him in the side of the neck, and a third in the wing spar, eliciting a short grunt of irritation from the Gargoyle. A faked cough, vocalized with the air of a reproachful teacher towards a naïve young student, got his attention. The titanic warrior spun around, eyes glowing and teeth bared in a savage snarl of menace. Joker was there, a CO2 powered dart gun held loosely in his right hand. "I must say, what you lack in brains, you almost make up for in brawn! Don't worry, though," he grinned wickedly. "You won't have much brain left to worry about soon. That was my extra-special-super-duper-high-octane formula! Stays with most folks for weeks! Well, when they're put under intensive life support, that is. Hee hee hee!" "I feel nothing, clown," Goliath retorted menacingly. "You will not escape me this time, murderer." "You say that like it's a bad thing," Joker said, sounding hurt. "Sorry, but not tonight. Adios, Gargantuan!" He ran away from the Gargoyle, racing up the stairs. Joker was definitely faster than he looked. Goliath bounded after him, pursuing the master criminal up the stairs of the building. They emerged on the roof, and Goliath cornered him at its edge, baring his teeth and snarling low in his throat. "Oh, all right. Fine then, you've got me. By the by, did I ever actually tell you what I injected you with? Granted, I'm not even sure it'll work on you, but . . ." "What is it, clown?" "Well, normally we end up with people strangling each other, making obscene gestures, eating rats, you know, fun stuff. They always look so happy, too. I don't know why the police make such a big deal about it. Anyway, it begs the question of what could be missing with you. I just can't seem to put my finger on it, let me see . . ." "Enough!" Goliath bellowed. "I've had enough of you inane babbling! I'm going to-" "Euphrates! Or is it eureka? It needs a catalyst! I knew I'd remember, I really did, yep yep. Let's see now, ah yes! Here we go." With that, the Joker pulled out a small handgun, and casually shot Goliath. The bullet hit him in the left side, passing through his belly and out his lower back. It missed his major organs, but it was intensely painful. The huge Gargoyle roared with the infliction of the wound. "That's my cue, folks! See you around, big guy!" Joker dashed to the fire escape like a man seeking cover from a bomb, and disappeared. Goliath tried to follow, but an unseen force kept him rooted to the ground. What sorcery is this? Kill the bastard. What? No, never in cold blood. Do it no He's dangerous. Go find him, and kill him I won't yes you will RRRAAARRRGGGGHHHH!!! "RRRAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!" Goliath bellowed into the night, all thoughts of the Joker forgotten for the moment. His eyes erupted in a flash of white light, and his sharp teeth made themselves visible in the process. Goliath's massive muscles bunched up with unnatural energy, growing tighter and tighter until he could no longer bear the strain of it. Without thinking, he let loose with his claws, ripping apart a large section of the roof with one titanic blow. The pain subsided as he did so, and then began to grow back. In seconds, it was nearly unbearable once more. Without much of his conscious mind to govern his actions, Goliath roared again. Maddened by the pain, he took off, trying desperately to escape it through flight. His gliding was erratic, and he descended almost immediately, landing on the roof of a car. Razor-sharp talons came into play of their own volition, tearing through the sheet metal as if it were paper. The terrified occupants screamed, awakening the Gargoyle's natural urge to protect at the last crucial instant. Goliath stopped himself from delivering a killing blow, and instead took off again, instinctively using the momentum of the car to catch the air in his enormous wings. He glided up to another rooftop, where he alighted for a moment before spreading his wings and taking off again. The unearthly roar of Manhattan's mightiest warrior resounded through the concrete canyons of Gotham city.
Author: Lord Maedhros
Rating: R (just to be safe)
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control . . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first
Genre: Action/Adventure
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.
i/ = thoughts
Chapter 4: Batman
Goliath awoke, as always, with the setting of the sun, sending small chips of stone across the rooftop. The mighty Gargoyle threw back his head, bellowing into the night sky. He looked down to the rooftop at his feet, and his eyes flared, blazing white at close to blinding intensity. Without hesitation, he plunged the claws of his left hand into the roof, ripping away a chunk of the material. His right followed, and soon he was tearing mercilessly at the offending surface, gouging a hole large enough for his massive frame to fit through.
Elsewhere in the city, Elisa awoke, as well. She was, to say the least, in a sorry state.
Elisa was soaked to the skin, apparently from the soapy aftermath of a car wash being thrown on her. Her legs were covered in newly dumped garbage, and she hurt everywhere at once.
But I'm alive, she thought. I'm alive, and I escaped.
Painfully, Elisa pushed herself up until she was standing upright in the dumpster. Several large rats were startled in the process, and they scampered away over the piles of trash. Holding on tightly to the edge of the metal, she swung one leg over the edge, then the other, and finally slid down, acquiring yet another cut and opening a large rent in her shirt as she did so. Shivering, Elisa started towards the street. She was very nearly in the middle of the gang when she realized they were present. The small group of men instinctively pursued Elisa back into the alleyway, eventually surrounding her.
"What's this?" one of the gang members asked, looking at Elisa.
"Damn, woman, what happened to you?" said another. He wrinkled his nose at the dumpster smell she carried with her. "She's on our turf, but man, look at her!"
A soft fluttering noise came from overhead, but Elisa thought she must have imagined it. No one else seemed to notice.
"Not my call to make," their apparent leader of the moment remarked. "Sorry, lady, but rules is rules. You trespass here, you pay." He walked slowly towards Elisa, menacing her with a crowbar. Elisa, in no condition to run or fight, could only back away, stumbling. He raised the crowbar, and Elisa covered her head, preparing for the blow.
He never got the chance to strike. Elisa heard a distinct whizzing noise, and she looked up to see the man, still holding the crowbar and staring at his hand, eyes wide with fear. His weapon had been attached to his hand by a thin rope of some sort, weighted and secured by a small but weighty metal disc, formed in the distinctive shape of a bat. The waning light that served the alleyway broke with a soft tinkling noise, plunging the passage into darkness.
As if on cue, the seven occupants of the alleyway looked skyward. A second later, Elisa saw a dark, indeterminate shape appear over the lip of the building. Its wings were scalloped, and it descended slowly, with the artistic grace of a born and bred creature of the night.
"Goliath?" she thought at first. Somehow, though, Elisa knew that wasn't right. A moment later, it didn't matter anymore, because the dark figure touched down, crumpling the man that had been standing over her. She could hear the distinctive crack of bone and cartilage giving way under the assault.
What followed then was a blur of sound and motion, pain and confusion. Elisa crouched against the brick wall of the near building, watching shadows striking at yet darker shadows, listening to the grunts of the combatants; the crack of bones and teeth and the hollow thump of fists on flesh. And there was one shadow, darker than darkness, moving amongst them, felling all of the others in a whirling flurry of motion caught in a moment of brutal violence.
As quickly as the incident started, it was over. Elisa found herself lifted bodily off the ground into a fireman's carry, and then she was airborne, rising quickly straight up the side of the building. The shadow reached the top of the roof, and set her down. The moonlight was much brighter up here, and it afforded Elisa a view of the mysterious shadow she could not have gotten in the dark confines of the alley. It was, Elisa saw, a man, not a gargoyle. He wore a form-fitting suit of dark gray, with black boots, gloves, and a mask that concealed most of his face and head, complete with pointed horns sticking straight up out of his head. A long, flowing black cape, which Elisa had first taken for a pair of leathery wings, completed the ensemble. He spoke to her, his voice deep and resonant.
"Are you all right?" Batman asked simply.
"I-I think so," Elisa answered, her adrenaline rush beginning to pass.
Batman looked at Elisa, his expression unreadable behind the lenses of his cowl. A wave of pity swept over him for her injuries and experience with the dumpster, a feeling which was quickly replaced by respect for her resilience. He could not help but notice that she was strikingly beautiful, excepting, of course, her present condition. No, he chastised himself. That's Bruce Wayne talking, and he has no place here. The Batman took over again, absorbing Elisa's image with a cool objectivity, seeing the need to tend to the beleaguered officer's wounds. Elisa hadn't noticed the change in him, the subtle alteration of posture and manner, which had taken place in under four seconds. He allowed himself a brief moment of relief for that fact, and then he became all business once again.
"Sit down," he instructed. Elisa did so, and Batman knelt at her side, opening a first-aid kit he had apparently left on the roof before entering the alley. He produced a flashlight, looked her over, and began to clean and dress each of Elisa's many cuts and scrapes. In minutes, he was finished. Elisa shivered, and found that she could not stop doing so. Batman reached back, removed his cape, and draped it over Elisa's shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, but it felt very warm. Batman cached the first-aid kit under a stone at the corner of the roof, which he slid back into place. In an instant, the opening was invisible.
"How . . . how did you . . ." she began.
"There are supply caches hidden all over the city. This is one," he replied simply. "Come with me. I will take you someplace safe."
He scooped her up again, and lowered them down to street level. Before her stood a monstrous car, jet-black all over, with a truly enormous hood, a pair of scalloped fins on the rear, and huge, bulging front fenders. It looked like . . . Elisa searched for the words to describe it.
It's like a Corvette on steroids. The sealed windshield and roof slid forward of their own volition, revealing the driver's compartment, with one passenger seat. It seemed more like the cockpit of a fighter aircraft that the passenger cabin of a car. Batman helped her to climb over and into the passenger seat. He, of course, took his place in the driver's seat, and started the engine, which whined like a turbine. Elisa fastened her seat belt, and the Batman did likewise. The hatch slid closed, and the car took off, roaring along the streets of Gotham City.
* * * * *
Back in the alleyway, the small gang was just beginning to pick themselves up after their encounter with the Batman.
"Oh, man," one man groaned, clutching his midsection. "I like, hurt everywhere."
"Was that . . .Him?" another asked. He was nervous even to say what he thought, but the others knew.
"Yeah," one of the more experienced members replied. "Congrats, boys. We just got our asses handed to us by the Bat." He spat blood, and wiggled his newly loosened teeth with his tongue.
"Congratulations indeed, boys! Quite a performance!" The distinctive voice preceded the speaker into the gang's midst. Joker appeared out of the shadows, applauding appreciatively. He set a small lamp down on an old cardboard box to light the narrow space. "I must say, I am glad I went to all this trouble, even if she did escape in the end. Challenging quarry is so much more fun."
"Wh-what's up, Mister J?" the nervous leader of the gang began. Being up against Batman in a fight was scary as hell, but being around Joker was worse than scary. It was terrifying. Feeling a sudden need to defend himself, he tried to explain. "Look, man, we had her! Just like you said, we had her for you! Everything was going fine until that Bat- freak came along!" He stopped suddenly, as a haunting look passed across the Joker's features.
"Batman? Batman, you say? An interesting development, this is. I was really just having a little honest fun this time; I didn't anticipate the Dork Knight getting involved. Oh, well," he paused. "Oh, well, on to bigger and better things, then." He smiled at the gang.
"What? What does that mean?" a younger member of the unfortunate group asked.
"Pull my finger," Joker giggled, beaming. He extended his left hand, index finger pointing. Hesitant, but knowing failure to play along could conceivably be worse; the gang's leader reached out and pulled the Joker's outstretched finger.
"AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!" he screamed, as a thin stream of concentrated acid hit him full in the face. He dropped to his knees, screaming and trying to get the powerful solution off his burning face. The others watched, stunned, as Joker pulled out a large example of an Uzi machine pistol, seemingly from thin air. Without a word, the Joker opened fire on his incidental accomplices, killing them all in one sweeping gesture of his right arm. Bored with the incessant screaming of the acid- faced man, Joker kicked him in the ribs, and then shot him, too. He left the alley as he had come, picking up the small lamp and heading back towards home.
* * * * *
"What the hell was that!?" one of the men asked in alarm, at the loud crashing sounds emanating from the upstairs of the building.
"Couldn't tell ya fer sure, but I'd say we've got some unwanted company, boys," Bones replied confidently. "C'mon, let's take a look." They pulled out their handguns, and headed upstairs.
The stairs creaked underfoot as the small group made their way upstairs. The building was an old one, having long since fallen into disrepair and decay. The light was out, and had been for three weeks, but no one had bothered to fix it in that time. Their flashlight beams preceded them up the stairs, piercing the darkness ahead of the men.
"Over here," one said, signaling from the end of the hall with his light. He entered the room ahead of the others. A moment later, his flashlight clattered to the floor. The beam circled the room, slowing steadily until it settled on the far wall. It didn't move again, and there was no further sound from the room. The light cast a shadow on the wall, showing a scalloped structure at the base of a large section of darkness above. A second later, the shadow disappeared. Bones, in the lead, turned to his companions and mouthed a single word.
Bat.
His companions nodded their acknowledgement, and hefted their weapons. They stayed together in a tight cluster, entering the room with their guns ready. The room was covered in stone dust, along with chunks of concrete, wood, and roofing tar from the large hole that had been torn out of the ceiling. Another hole led straight through the wall, out of the now- empty room. It was clear, too, that no tools had been used to perform this task. Someone had ripped the roof and wall out with their bare hands.
As they stared at the destruction in the room, the wall to the side and behind the small group erupted in a shower of plaster chips and splintering wood. The gang never so much as got a shot off, as Goliath tore through them, teeth bared and eyes blazing white. He waded into the tightly packed men, striking at the terrified gangsters left and right. The mighty Gargoyle's left fist caught the first man low in the gut, pushing him up and straight through the wall to Goliath's right. His tail lashed out at the feet of the second, dropping it's victim to the floor. Goliath whipped his tail back, sending his hapless assailant to join his first fallen companion. His left wing snapped up, breaking a third man's arm at the elbow with a sickening crack of bone. The others followed in short order, none of them a match for the winged warrior's strength at close quarters.
Goliath stopped, and surveyed his surroundings. The air held a musty, stale scent of decay, and the building was obviously deep in disrepair. The massive Gargoyle inhaled deeply, filling his huge lungs with air and passing as many of the local scents through his nostrils as possible. He searched the area through the scents it held; rat droppings, microwave dinners, stale beer and potato chips all came to him. Over everything was a persistent chemical tang that burned slightly at his nostrils, finally seeming to settle at the back of his throat. He searched the third floor thoroughly, going through each room as quickly as he could. Cautiously, Goliath made his way down the stairway, to the second floor of the building. That, too, was deserted, and the huge Gargoyle was just beginning to descend the next set of stairs when the sound of a door slamming shut stopped him in his tracks. Eyes aglow, he reluctantly backed up the stairs to wait and see what the situation was.
"Honey, I'm home!" a thin, whiny voice sang out. "I looked for those cute little cinnamon swirls you like so much, but the man at the store said they were all out again," he continued. "I thought these would look lovely on the . . .hey, now wait a minute, something's not entirely kosher here." He said with a suspicious air. He pulled out a pipe, and busied himself with blowing bubbles from it as he stroked his pointed chin, humming softly to himself.
Goliath had heard enough. He bounded down the final stairway, landing at the base of the stairs with eyes glowing and a growl in his throat. He stepped forward into the light, baring his teeth and assuming a fighting stance, squaring off to the Joker.
"Woo! Careful there, big guy! Something might fall out of that loincloth if you're not careful," Joker addressed Goliath, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of an angry Gargoyle in the room with him. He just stood there, grinning at the behemoth.
"Where is she? What have you done with Elisa Maza?" Goliath roared at him. His eyes seemed to brighten as he spoke.
"Believe it or else, my large grotesque friend, she left our little party of her own meager wit and considerable daring more than twelve hours ago." He smiled at Goliath again. "But don't worry, Batman can't protect her forever! And no one cuts out on my game before it's finished."
"You will never have that chance, murderer!" Goliath roared, and
lunged at the Joker. His quarry, however, disappeared into the floor, dropping through a cleverly concealed trap door. The opening shut solidly, with the sound of metal on thick metal.
Goliath snarled, and plunged his hands into the floor, ripping the metal out of its mounts in the floor supports in one massive surge upwards. He wasted no time, but dove straight through, landing easily on his feet in the basement below. There was no immediate sign of the Joker. It was dark, but Goliath's night- accustomed eyes adjusted quickly. The enraged warrior scanned the room, searching the darkness for his quarry.
Come out and fight, you coward. A tiny pinprick, near the base of Goliath's tail, caused him to turn. Annoyed, he pulled a small hollow dart out of his skin and examined it. It was a tranquilizer dart, the type sometimes used on wild animals. The dart still contained some liquid of a strange green color, visible through the clear plastic tube. What is that imbecile doing? He thought. Drugs? He has no idea what he's dealing with. Goliath continued to search the area. His eyes glowed in intervals, flaring at each unconfirmed noise. Goliath snarled in frustration, and his steel-hard toe claws took chunks out of the cement floor as he tensed his muscles. Another dart hit him in the side of the neck, and a third in the wing spar, eliciting a short grunt of irritation from the Gargoyle. A faked cough, vocalized with the air of a reproachful teacher towards a naïve young student, got his attention. The titanic warrior spun around, eyes glowing and teeth bared in a savage snarl of menace. Joker was there, a CO2 powered dart gun held loosely in his right hand. "I must say, what you lack in brains, you almost make up for in brawn! Don't worry, though," he grinned wickedly. "You won't have much brain left to worry about soon. That was my extra-special-super-duper-high-octane formula! Stays with most folks for weeks! Well, when they're put under intensive life support, that is. Hee hee hee!" "I feel nothing, clown," Goliath retorted menacingly. "You will not escape me this time, murderer." "You say that like it's a bad thing," Joker said, sounding hurt. "Sorry, but not tonight. Adios, Gargantuan!" He ran away from the Gargoyle, racing up the stairs. Joker was definitely faster than he looked. Goliath bounded after him, pursuing the master criminal up the stairs of the building. They emerged on the roof, and Goliath cornered him at its edge, baring his teeth and snarling low in his throat. "Oh, all right. Fine then, you've got me. By the by, did I ever actually tell you what I injected you with? Granted, I'm not even sure it'll work on you, but . . ." "What is it, clown?" "Well, normally we end up with people strangling each other, making obscene gestures, eating rats, you know, fun stuff. They always look so happy, too. I don't know why the police make such a big deal about it. Anyway, it begs the question of what could be missing with you. I just can't seem to put my finger on it, let me see . . ." "Enough!" Goliath bellowed. "I've had enough of you inane babbling! I'm going to-" "Euphrates! Or is it eureka? It needs a catalyst! I knew I'd remember, I really did, yep yep. Let's see now, ah yes! Here we go." With that, the Joker pulled out a small handgun, and casually shot Goliath. The bullet hit him in the left side, passing through his belly and out his lower back. It missed his major organs, but it was intensely painful. The huge Gargoyle roared with the infliction of the wound. "That's my cue, folks! See you around, big guy!" Joker dashed to the fire escape like a man seeking cover from a bomb, and disappeared. Goliath tried to follow, but an unseen force kept him rooted to the ground. What sorcery is this? Kill the bastard. What? No, never in cold blood. Do it no He's dangerous. Go find him, and kill him I won't yes you will RRRAAARRRGGGGHHHH!!! "RRRAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!" Goliath bellowed into the night, all thoughts of the Joker forgotten for the moment. His eyes erupted in a flash of white light, and his sharp teeth made themselves visible in the process. Goliath's massive muscles bunched up with unnatural energy, growing tighter and tighter until he could no longer bear the strain of it. Without thinking, he let loose with his claws, ripping apart a large section of the roof with one titanic blow. The pain subsided as he did so, and then began to grow back. In seconds, it was nearly unbearable once more. Without much of his conscious mind to govern his actions, Goliath roared again. Maddened by the pain, he took off, trying desperately to escape it through flight. His gliding was erratic, and he descended almost immediately, landing on the roof of a car. Razor-sharp talons came into play of their own volition, tearing through the sheet metal as if it were paper. The terrified occupants screamed, awakening the Gargoyle's natural urge to protect at the last crucial instant. Goliath stopped himself from delivering a killing blow, and instead took off again, instinctively using the momentum of the car to catch the air in his enormous wings. He glided up to another rooftop, where he alighted for a moment before spreading his wings and taking off again. The unearthly roar of Manhattan's mightiest warrior resounded through the concrete canyons of Gotham city.