I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Rated PG-13 : violence, language, sexuality, some mature concepts.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Ungrateful brat... Batman's hands gripped the wheel with knuckle-whitening tightness as he sped into the suburbs. I was trying to protect him. Trying to give him a normal life, a safe life, a life that could include Barbara. Did it for his own good. And he threw it back in my face...
But all his anger couldn't wipe out the image of Dick on the floor, staring up at him, the shock and fear in his face. Afraid of me... Hadn't meant to let it go too far like that. There had seemed to be no choice, when the kid wouldn't listen to reason. Had to say those things, had to take advantage of Dick's insecurities to make him give it up.
It hadn't gone the way he wanted, and if he knew how to push Dick's buttons, Dick knew where his own were located just as accurately. He had lost control, and no matter what the provocation, there was no excuse for hitting a friend, someone who looked up to him, someone who had been recently injured. He had gotten so angry, so fast, it had been almost frightening - he had felt like killing, just for a moment - what if he had really hurt the kid?
The old theatre appeared out of the night, spottily lit by street lamps. This was it. Batman pulled over and found a place to park, out of sight from the building. Deliberately, he relaxed his body, toes first, then feet, lower and upper legs, stomach, torso, shoulders, arms, hands and fingers. Last, neck and face. And most important, focus the mind, rid himself of troubling thoughts, anger, and self-doubt. All that mattered for now was the fight ahead. And he was ready.
It was a beautiful old place, Batman noted with some corner of his consciousness. Or had been before time, dirt, and neglect had taken their course. Originally a luxurious playhouse, with a balcony and opera boxes looking down to the stage, it had fallen on hard times when the neighborhood it was in went downhill and movies became popular. Now it was a decaying shell, its stage forever empty, home to insects and rats - both the four-legged and two-legged varieties.
The main theatre seemed empty through the infrared goggles he used briefly, and by the muted illumination of the glow lights he quickly stuck on the walls as he passed. Only dust, and the memories of better days. Rows of empty seats. Silence. He reached the stage, now hidden by heavy velvet curtains, and stopped to think.
There would be back rooms, a maze of them. Offices, storerooms, dressing rooms unused for many years. Plenty of places for the Joker to hide. Starting with the stage itself. It would be typical of the Joker to be up there, behind the curtains, at the focal point of the room. That would appeal to his vanity and sense of theatricality.
Batman stared up, trying to decide the best way to get through the drapes. Maybe a back entrance... The thought died as he realized the lights were coming on. He ducked behind a column, looked for better cover, and headed through the shadows for a doorway in the back without waiting to see what was happening.
"I know you're out there..."
It floated through the still air, that hated voice. Batman could imagine the white face of his enemy, red lips in that grotesque, perpetual grin, laughing at him. He fought back the anger; emotion had no place here, on the battlefield. Inside the doorway he found a staircase, leading up into darkness. He turned, and looked back.
The lights were still coming up, and the curtains were slowly opening. A line of forms took shape out of the dimness, there was movement, but none of them left the spots they were standing in. There was something artificial about them... Batman stayed where he was just long enough to identify them before soundlessly starting up the stairs. The stolen mechanical figures: the antique clown, the animated Santa Claus, a collection of elves and reindeer. All going through their programmed movements.
"I'm so glad you could attend my little Christmas party, Batman. The other guests have arrived. Come on in and join the fun!"
At the balcony level he stopped again. The Joker knew he was here, that much was obvious. How good was his surveillance? Cameras? They could have spotted him from outside, but would be next to useless in the darkness. Infrared motion sensors? He reached into his belt for one of the more specialized pieces of equipment he had brought for the occasion, a tiny mechanical car with an attached heat source. Hopefully it would serve to confuse them. He set it on the floor and watched it slowly move off.
He could go out into a box above the stage, then leap down - but he hadn't seen the Joker himself. He could be anywhere. Or not - his voice was being amplified somehow. Where would the microphone for a sound system logically be?
"Oh, come now, Batman, stop skulking in the shadows and come out. You're being a party poop."
Plays had been shown here before the days of microphones, when the actors were expected to fill the house with their unassisted voices. Later, it would have had a speaker system for musicals. Maybe a microphone for announcements. But where? One of the offices... But no, he realized almost immediately. The Joker wouldn't put on his little show if he didn't have a good view of the stage.
"I think you should come show me your appreciation of the nice present I gave you. Life is so much better without those two hangers-on, isn't it? Sorry I didn't quite manage to rid you of both of them."
Stay in control... He fought back the anger. The Joker was baiting him, trying to get him to reveal himself prematurely.
"I admit Batwoman - or rather sweet little Kathy - was really quite decorative. A shame she's worm food now. On the other hand, Nightwing is rather decorative himself, if you're inclined that way."
If the Joker had been in sight, Batman knew he would have attacked him mindlessly. He forced himself back to calmness. It was only words. Don't react. Don't give him what he wants. He reached the farthest box opening off the balcony corridor and slid in though a velvet curtain, staying in the shadows, peering out to the stage below.
Had that been movement at the far end of the stage, towards the back? Quickly he slipped on the infrared goggles. The line of animated figures showed up as dim red, but there were brighter spots where he had seen someone move. Two of them, disappearing into the stairway up to the balcony. They knew he was up here, and were coming to find him. There were probably another two on their way up the stairs on his end of the stage.
He sent another mobile heat source on its way before his eyes rose to the wall above the stage. There would be open space back there, hidden from the audience, walkways, ladders, beams, ropes by which props and even actors could be raised and lowered, up where the lights wouldn't reach. More of the Joker's men might be up there... but it was his own natural environment; he could move faster and more silently than they could, and motion detectors would have trouble in that large area full of obstacles.
"Come to think of it, Batboy hasn't been in evidence lately. Did I succeed in ridding you of him after all?"
There had been a door at the end of the corridor, leading in the direction of the stage. Quickly, he left the box and tried it. Locked. But it took only a few seconds for him to pick the lock and duck through, even as he heard footsteps behind him.
It was like entering another world, one of dark space above, crisscrossed by narrow walkways, and the stage below. The front was almost bright now, lit mostly by small spotlights on the mechanical figures. They probably hadn't been able to find many lights that still worked.
Carefully, Batman scanned with his infrared goggles. There was one spot of warmth. Someone was above him, on a high catwalk. He'd be facing out towards the stage. Silently Batman began to work his way nearer, careful to stay low and behind as many obstacles as he could manage. The bright spot in the red view through his goggles didn't move. Probably not using infrared. Not expecting him, when the others thought he was still on the balcony.
And now he could see him. He was sitting on the catwalk, legs dangling, the barrel of a compact machine gun projecting over the railing. Easy enough to throw a rope around the weapon and disarm him, but that would mean noise, and the others would know where he was. Luckily the walkway had a solid floor, which meant he had a quieter way. A reach into his belt, a flip of the wrist, and a tiny gas pellet landed two feet away from his target. There was only a tiny thump and then a barely audible hiss. The man was unconscious before he could figure out where it was coming from.
It took a few moments to swing himself up and leave the Joker's henchman handcuffed and gagged, then down again, to descend towards the stage. Staying in the shadows, he glided over beams and walkways, found a prop rope and slid down it. Crouched next to a spotlight, he surveyed the situation again.
"Where are you, Batman?" The Joker's voice was petulant now. "I want my party, and I'm getting tired of waiting. These were the only people who would come, besides you, of course. I admit they're animated, but they're not much for conversation."
Ah... A flash of green in the unlit orchestra pit. It was him, the white of his face showing clearly as he looked up, for an unsettling moment seeming to stare directly at Batman. Then the Joker was looking into the wings, where four men had appeared from the stairwell, and gestured at them impatiently. They must have given up the search on the balcony, and hadn't yet figured out where he was. Batman peered more closely at them as they looked around the theatre uncertainly, recognizing a face. Joe Malek. Still working for the Joker after all, just as he had suspected.
It was time to stop playing around.
He swung a line over his head and tossed it forward, to wrap around a support beam a few yards above and farther over the stage. The hook at the end caught. After testing it with a tug, Batman reached into his belt again. A quick movement, and two pellets arced through the air to land in the midst of the four henchmen. The gas sent them reeling away, scattering across the end of the stage. Three collapsed limply, and Malek staggered out of sight. They should stay unconscious long enough. No gas for the Joker. No, Batman had other plans for him.
And of course he was already fleeing, jerking open a door in the front of the orchestra pit and dashing through, even as Batman slid down his line, swinging far enough out towards the seats to drop into the pit, hit the floor and come up running. He forced himself to slow down enough for caution as he found himself in a dimly lit corridor with several doors opening off it. Then he turned a corner and caught sight of his quarry.
The chase went on around another turn, up a flight of stairs, into a stretch of discarded backstage props and scenery and into the empty back of the stage, the inert bodies of the men Batman had knocked out still where he had left them. There was just enough light to see by as the Joker whirled and faced him, red lips twisted in a savage snarl. They stared at each other.
"I don't suppose you'd care to give up?" Batman asked.
"I don't suppose you'd let me." The mirthless grin was back as the Joker answered. "No, you're out for blood this time."
"Can you blame me?" Batman took a step closer.
"Not at all. I think we understand each other perfectly." The grin widened. "You beat my location out of one of my employees, just as I knew you would."
"He gave you up too easily. The whole thing was a setup. You were expecting me tonight."
"Right! I suspected you would figure that out. Yet you didn't tell the police, or anyone else, did you? You wanted me all to yourself this time. So you could do what you've wanted to do ever since I eliminated your charming Bat-female and almost did the same for your little Bat-buddy."
"Don't be so sure."
"Ah, but I know how you think, Batman. You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"
"I..." He wanted to. He wanted desperately to crush the life from the Joker, as the image of Kathy's face came to him, the way she had looked that last time, her empty eyes staring at nothing. Was that really why he hadn't called in the police, to make sure there would be no one to stop him? And why not kill the Joker? Send him back to jail and he might escape again, and kill again. Surely the lives of his future victims were more important than his own miserable existence. It would be so easy... The cops wouldn't even try to find the killer; he could do it, and get away with it, and it wouldn't even be morally wrong...
"That's right, Batman." The Joker's voice was a low murmur now, almost seductive in tone. He came a step closer. "You want to kill me. You'd be protecting the people I might hurt in the future. Not to mention getting that final, sweet revenge. Go on, admit it. Do it. Hit me, beat me, wrap that rope of yours around my neck and pull it tight..."
"Are you so eager to die?"
The Joker's arms swept wide, indicating the theatre around them. "Life's a play, Batman, and all the players only shadows. We strut our fleeting moments upon the stage and then... disappear. All that matters is what we leave behind, our legacy to the world, what we give it to remember us by. What better way for me to go than by your hand? What better fate than to be the great Batman's first murder victim?"
He came even closer, his eyes intent, his voice soft and intimate. "What I'm eager for is to hear you finally admit that I'm the one who understands you best. That we're reflections of each other, mirror images, identical yet reversed. I want you to realize just how much alike we are. How different we both are from the 'normal' masses of humanity. How superior. No normal standards of morality for us; we can't be restricted by the law or by what others think is right and wrong. Yes, you'll kill me... and the moment you do, you'll know, once and for all, that it's all true."
Was it true? He had always dismissed the idea as the Joker's insane fantasy... and yet, if he killed in cold blood, no matter who, no matter what the reason, maybe that would mean they were alike, that he had the same capacity for cold-hearted murder that the man facing him did. The idea was like ice water in his veins, abruptly cooling the fire of revenge.
"You're wrong," he said. "I'm taking you in. No one's going to die today."
Again they stared at each other, the Joker's green eyes lighting with anger. "You disappoint me, Batman," he said softly. "And I get very cranky when I'm disappointed."
The Joker's hand moved, throwing something to the floor between them. He whirled. Batman saw more gas puff as he threw himself forward, with a quick motion pulling a compact respirator from his belt and slapping it into his mouth. Another precaution he had taken; only a hint of the 'laughing gas' got through.
They crashed to the floor as he tackled his opponent around the knees. The Joker twisted onto his back and kicked with all the surprising speed and strength of his lanky form. Batman winced at a blow in the stomach, but kept going, scrambling to his knees, grabbing the Joker by his shirtfront and hauling him up to his feet. He swung a punch into that white face, hard, ignoring the shock of impact in his knuckles, then another. There was a noise behind him, a footstep, as the Joker reeled. Batman turned and saw Malek, the one who had disappeared, gun in hand and aimed at him.
"This is for using me as a punching bag," he snarled, finger tightening on the trigger.
Batman hit the floor - but the shot never came. He saw something small and dark fly out of the air above, hitting Malek's wrist, making him drop the weapon with a curse. In another instant a loop of rope whirled down, falling around Malek, lassoing him and pinning his arms to his sides. It tightened, squeezing a yelp out of him as it dragged him up off his feet.
The Joker was running again... Batman leaped after him, caught him, spun him around. A side-kick to the hip knocked him against the wall of the theatre, to bounce back into a fist. With a moan, he crumpled.
Batman stood and stared down at him for a moment, catching his breath. Then up, to check on the others, all still unconscious, except for Malek who was now helpless and suspended a foot above the floor by the rope around him. And finally, he raised his gaze into the spaces above.
As he had known it would be, a shadowy form stood on a catwalk looking down, black and midnight blue against the dimness. For a moment Batman almost felt as if he was back in a dirty alleyway, looking up at a rooftop and a stranger who had appeared out of nowhere to help him. This was exactly the way they had first seen each other - how long ago? Seemed like a lifetime. Their eyes met for a few seconds. Then Nightwing stepped back and melted into the emptiness.
TBC...