It was for a second that Batgirl wasn't sure what to do. She hadn't had much experience with having an interruption during a fight. She settled the fights long before most could be interrupted. In hindsight, it was because she had gone after smaller groups, four to five tops. If there was ever more, she was playing backup to Batman.
This was...strange...to say the least.
The moment one of the Thuggee cultists took a step towards the interrupters, Bluebird held up her electricity-making taser rifle and blasted him with a big dose of electricity. The thug screamed before he collapsed to the floor.
And then the rest were on the move. The ones between Batgirl and the two former Batclan members were heading right for the girls while the ones behind the dark-dressed girl were coming for her back.
She needed to make short work of them.
Shooting both of her arms up, they crossed in front of her, batarangs held tightly between her fingers. Spinning around, she saw a cultist damn near on top of her as he swung a sword at her. Leaping into the air, she swung a leg, landing a kick across the man's face, one she was certain was hard enough to not only send him crashing to the floor, but leave him unconscious before he even landed.
In the split-second after she landed her kick, she spotted four more cultists rushing towards her. Uncrossing her arms as she swung them out, she sent her batarangs flying for the charging men, her aim impeccably true. The shurikens nailed the men on various places on their faces, a couple to the side of their heads, one to the forehead, and one rebounding off his hand—which had held yet another sword—and up underneath his chin. All targets collapsed to the floor, lying in heaps.
Continuing to spin, Batgirl landed on her feet, dropping into a crouched stance. She caught sight of the one called...uhh, Spoiled...doing as she had done and hitting a charging cultist with her own shuriken. It was one she recalled as a birdarang and her aim was just as true, hitting the thug in the face and dropping him to the floor. She then immediately darted to a side as an axe-wielding Thuggee attacked, swinging his axe straight down with its blade cutting into the floor. "Whoa!" she cried out.
That's when Bluebird leveled her taser rifle and blasted the attacker, causing him to scream. Another cultist was charging at her, causing the blue-haired girl to cut off the flow of electricity and hold her weapon up horizontally in front of her. This allowed her to block the kick the cultist sent her way, the rifle taking the brunt of the blow.
Dropping a hand to a holder at her side, Bluebird pulled out a smaller handgun-shaped taser and held it at her hip, pointing its barrel at the thug. Firing it, a smaller blast of electricity struck the man, causing him to yelp as he flinched back. This caused him to stumble as he quickly brought his extended leg down to try and regain his balance.
Bluebird immediately turned her larger rifle and blasted him again with a bigger dose of electricity. That familiar shocked scream rang out and the cultist dropped.
By then, another cultist was attacking Spoiled. The purple-covered girl was backpedaling one step at a time, doing her best to block him and was...actually doing a decent job. The thug wasn't giving her a chance to counter as he pressed the offensive.
Batgirl launched herself towards the two. Leaping into the air at the last moment, she leaned back and extended a leg out, going into a flying kick. Her foot slammed into the side of the cultist's head and, thanks to a wall being closed by, forced him into it, bashing the other side of his head against it.
Batgirl began to twist to body to aside in midair to look towards the other cultist and spotted a rather rare opportunity. There were two cultist standing next to each other, her current angle revealing this. Springing off of the head of her recently unconscious cultist, she launched herself into a flip through the air. By the time she was feet over head, she was above the two men. Thrusting her arms above her head, her hands grabbed onto either side of the men's heads and she cracked them against each other. Both of them dropped to the floor as she completed her flip, landing on her feet.
Alright, who was left? Spotting the remaining Thuggees, she counted four—scratch that, another taser blast from Bluebird cut that down to three—cultists left.
Three cultists, three of them. It was a fitting number.
"Alright...whoever you are," Bluebird spoke. "Either you do this the easy way, or the hard way. Give yourselves up, or get the crap beaten or shocked out of you. It's your choice."
The thugs didn't hesitate. Each one put their attention on each of the girls, moving around the room to make their attentions known. And then they attacked.
It didn't end well for them. Bluebird blasted her thug. Spoiled countered her charging foe by going for a low blow, a kick to the groin to be exact. The blow dropped the man to his knees as he clutched at his groin, face red from the pain. Spoiled ended his misery by grabbing the sides of his head and forcing his face to ram into her knee.
As for Batgirl, she was through playing around. Taking a page from Batman's playbook, she waited for the thug to throw a punch for her face, countering by grabbing him by the wrist. Twisting her body to a side, she shoved her shoulder into his armpit even as she grabbed onto his belt with her other hand. Leveraging him up with her shoulder, pulling up with her hand on the belt and pulling down his wrist, Batgirl flipped the man and slammed him face first on the floor. He stood on his face for several moments before teetering over.
"Now that was awesome!" Turning, Batgirl saw the other two girls approaching her, coming to stand in front of her. It was obvious it was the Spoiled girl that had shouted that. "High five, girlfriend!"
At this, Spoiled held a hand up, one that Batgirl stared at. After awhile, Spoiled slowly lowered her hand down awkwardly. "Alright, maybe later," she mumbled.
"I recognize you," Batgirl spoke bluntly. She wasn't sure why these two had blundered into her fight and she wasn't the happiest about it. Faintly, she wondered if this was how her father felt about running into these vigilantes. "You're with the Network."
"Don't forget the Batclan," Bluebird replied. "Bluebird and Spoiler, in case you've forgotten."
She had, not that she was going to tell them that. "Why are you here?" she questioned.
"We saw you on the rooftops. Thought you could use some help."
"Do I look like I need help?"
The two girls looked at the fallen Thuggees. "I guess not," Spoiler said. "Who are these guys anyway? They don't look like your run-of-the-mill punks."
"They're Thugs."
"Well, that's obvious. But who are they?"
Batgirl rolled her eyes, thankful her lens hid the expression. "They're called the Thuggee Cult, each one an experienced martial artist. I am breaking up their sects."
"Ohh, you meant Thug for short," Bluebird said knowingly. "Makes sense."
"Wouldn't it be funny if thug came from their name, Thuggee?" Spoiler pointed out.
"It does," Batgirl told her.
"Well, ain't that something," Bluebird responded awkwardly. "So what did they do to earn the wrath of the Bats?"
"You really want to know?"
"Well, yeah. If they're stirring up trouble in Gotham, they're all of our problem."
Batgirl glanced around the room until she found what she was looking for. Like the other Thuggee temples, there was a wall covered in a large curtain. She began walking towards it, the two former Batclan members following her. "The Thuggees revere strong fighters. Observe."
Reaching the curtain, she found the drawstring and pulled on it. The curtains opened up to reveal a wall covered in photos of men beaten and bloodied, clearly dead. There were two gasps, an expected reaction. "Who did all of this?" Spoiler asked softly.
"The person they worship: Lady Shiva." Batgirl glared at the woman's handiwork. "I...discovered them recently and have been removing their sects from the city."
"Shiva…" Bluebird repeated. "You mean that one assassin Batman told us all to stay away from? These guys idolize her?"
The dark-dressed girl nodded. "Yes."
"And you think they may try and copy her? Make their own creepy collection of dead people?"
"If they haven't already done so, then yes."
"Well, you can count on us to help." Batgirl turned her head and found Bluebird looking resolute. Spoiler was staring at the blue-haired girl, her mask hiding her face, but it was clear she was surprised by the declaration.
"What makes you think I need your help?" she questioned.
"Like I said, they're in Gotham, so that makes them all of our problem. We can hold our own, you know."
"I don't need your help," she told her sternly. She then abruptly began walking away from them, heading for the exit.
"I think that's pretty obvious," Spoiler agreed. "But what about other things? We could research these guys for you; maybe find out where the other sects are hiding. We could even give you company as you beat the snot out of them too."
That caused her to stop. What made them think they could help her when she had access to the city's biggest and greatest resource? They clearly weren't getting that she was blowing them off.
So she went with an old standby that she was certain would get her message across.
"I work alone."
There were only three others with her. The big meeting to tell the bigwigs of the Calabrese was long past over, but now it was time for a different sort of meeting. A strategizing one. Selina knew that more than a declaration of "I'm in charge" was needed here. Rex had blatantly said that there would be old guard that opposed her appointment.
That meant she was going to have to follow up the announcement of her leadership with a show of force.
"I thought the whip did that nicely," the short-haired crime boss remarked, stroking Isis.
"It was more theatric than anything else," Chris Ward said wryly. The mob lawyer was one of the three still in this room with her, the rest of the table empty with seats growing cold. "Dragging someone along a table will only accomplish so much. You're got their attention, but what kind do you have and will it last?"
"I thought the whip was a nice touch." That came from the only other man in the room. He was young, maybe about a decade younger than Selina herself. With a shaggy mop of light brown hair and a pair of literal shaped square glasses, this guy, she was told, was an actual cousin of hers. Blood related and everything. Nicholas, or Nick for short.
From what little she knew and had seen, Nick here was a laid back guy, willing to say what was on his mind no matter what you thought about it. Lighthearted was another way to describe him, and that was much more so when compared to his sister.
Where Nick had light brown hair, Antonia Calabrese had dark brown, and a much more stern and severe expression on her face. In a word, serious, always serious, and anything but serious. Even her skin was darker compared to Nick's lighter tone. Everything was practically the opposite, and they were actual siblings.
"It was too dramatic. And ridiculous. Who uses a whip to threaten men armed to the teeth with guns?" Antonia pointed out.
"Which is why they were all disarmed before coming in here," Chris spoke up, interrupting what might be the beginnings of another sibling squabble. To Selina, he said, "Regardless, what is your next move? The Lion still has influence, but it will only go so far."
Fingernails began to scratch the small, furry head that pressed back into them. Selina, relaxed in her seat, said nothing for a moment, drawing out the silence. Then, she looked towards the lawyer and said, "What do you think I should do?"
"If you want to prove yourself, you need to get them all under heel," Antonia stated immediately. "Anyone who resists, you kill. There is no need to leave enemies in your wake who will try and oppose you."
"I don't agree much with her, but a culling of the ranks might be what the doctor ordered," Nick shrugged.
A bloodbath then. How Godfather.
"So who would I replace them with?" she asked idly.
"People loyal to you," Antonia began, saying the obvious. Selina already figured out where the rest of this was going by the second word.
"And that means I replace all of them with you?" she cut on, zeroing in on her female cousin. "Let's cut to the chase, about ninety-nine percent of everyone here is my enemy. Should I kill the whole crime family and get rid of them? Then who's going to do all the hard work? They can be enemies—and lord knows I have too many of those without adding these new ones—so instead of a hostile takeover disguised as new management, why not instead win them over? Convince them to follow me of their own free will?"
Nick gave her a wan smile. "The mob is not known to be very progressive and female empowerment when it comes to ladies being in charge. It's still an old boys' club."
"Griselda Blanco," Selina immediately refuted. "The most ruthless crime lord in Miami during the 80s. Most of all the killings in that city during that time was because she ordered it, and it could have been because you took her parking space at the grocery store. The mob may be an old boys' club, but its the women who get involved are meaner and more ruthless than the men. In Griselda's case, she once put a hit on one of her favorite hitmen because he insulted her son. The hitman's son was killed instead, and when she found out, she celebrated it. And I'm not talking a grown adult son, I'm talking a kid in grade school.
"But I'm not going to go Griselda's route. Who's the rising star of the family? Who's the biggest cash cow? Someone who is making waves and rubbing some people off the wrong way? Someone others would pay to see brought down a peg or three? Anyone like that that you know of?"
Chris shifted, switching his weight from one leg to the other. "There is...one like that. Not the newest recruit, but he had made enemies prior to our recruitment. There are those in the family that would love to see him...brought down a peg or three."
"Who's the lucky contestant?" Isis' purring grew louder, reflecting her own pleasure.
"His name is Oswald Cobblepot."
If there was a smirk on her face, and it had felt like she had one, it dropped as the Isis' petting stopped immediately, along with the purring. A meow of protest followed, but Selina ignored to stare blankly at the lawyer.
"Who the hell thought Cobblepot was a good last name?" she wondered.
"Beats me," Nick shrugged.
"He also goes by the moniker, the Penguin," Chris added helpfully.
"The Penguin."
"Indeed."
"Were all the other mob names taken?" The Penguin, seriously?"
"The name is ridiculous," Chris agreed. "He looks ridiculous. He might have a lot more in common with Griselda Blanco. He tried to take over in the vacuum left with the Roman's assassination. Many other bosses were killed, then he kidnapped the police commissioner's daughter and brought the Batman down on his head. His stints in Blackgate seemed to have taught him a lot since he's become more low key. His operations have been flourishing, and he operates almost autonomously. As you saw, he refused to attend your introduction into the Family."
"And I bet many of the boys in the old boys' club hate his guts," Selina mused. "Stupid name. Stupid moniker. Hated. And he snubbed me. He's perfect."
"How do you want to go about this?" Antonia asked, straightening up. Someone was anticipating some action.
"Well, we start off with a visit," Selina said and began to resume Isis' petting, which the cat appreciated. "I think a personal visit with a change of wardrobe to start."
It came suddenly and without warning. They usually did. A terrified scream filled the night air, breaking the relative silence if you ignored the common sounds of traffic.
Batman snapped his head to one side. He was towards the outskirts of the city, where City Hall conveniently ignored blighted and dilapidated buildings. There were plans to tear them down and try rebuilding something more profitable in their place, but local resistance was slowing those plans down.
That just left downtrodden, empty buildings where bad things could happen out of sight and out of mind. Batman always made it a point to check these willfully forgotten neighborhoods to send a message that no place was safe from his protective gaze. Tonight was just one such night.
That scream had been close, a woman's if he wasn't mistaken. Peering over the ledge of a building, his head had snapped to his left as that was where the scream had come from. There was a five story building, covered in graffiti, weeds and overgrown grass taking over its lower floors.
There was also a passing light through a window that got his attention.
Firing his grapple gun, he swung towards the building, aiming for one of the windows. In fact, it was the window he spotted the light, which had since moved on. As he closed in on the building, he swung his legs in front of him, timing it so that his feet hit the glass at full force, causing it to shatter.
And he was in, landing on his feet with a heavy thud, shards of glass bouncing off of him and the floor. He was surrounded by a ruined room, one of the walls crumbling from lack of maintenance. Broken, discarded furniture had been shoved up to the walls at some point, the layer of grime and dust indicating it had been done some time ago.
The footprints in the dust were new.
Eying them, there was only one set, one that came in, circled around the room, and then left. It was like someone was searching the room for something, didn't find it, and left.
The scream rang out again, this time louder. Clearly he was in the right place. Quickly, Batman left the room, entering what was best described as a large lobby. It was two stories, the second story with a walkway that circled the entire room. He was on the walkway, looking down to the floor below. There were a couple of potted trees that were reaching up towards the ceiling, another that was lying on its side on the floor, clearing having been knocked down at some point. Skylights hung from the ceiling, none of which were on.
Again came the scream and it sounded as if it came from the bottom floor. Hauling himself over the railing, he dropped to the floor below, landing on his feet and hurrying across the room. There was a hallway there and he raced down it, forced to take a right at its end.
There were a series of doors there, one of which was cracked open. Again came the scream and he knew where it was coming from. Heading for the ajar door, he shoved it open, nearly breaking it in the process.
Then came to an abrupt stop. The room was empty save for graffiti on the walls, dirt and grime on the floor, and a reel-to-reel recorder being placed dead center in the room. The tape was still running, another scream crying out from its speakers.
This was a trap.
There was a clicking sound, one that came from his left. With a bat-shaped shuriken in hand, Batman jerked his head to the side, eyes widening as he saw a flamethrower setup in the corner of the room. He had missed it when he rushed in and that clicking sound was the flamethrower's flint creating a spark that lit up the weapon. There was a stand that held the flamethrower up, a robotic arm moving to fire it.
Immediately, Batman pulled his cape around him and dropped to one knee. Intense heat poured over him, the flamethrower washing him with fire. He could feel where the stream of fire was hitting as it was the hottest point, but he had no concern that it would burn through the cape. This wasn't his first time being attacked this way.
Of course, there was the factor of how much fuel the flamethrower had. He hadn't had a good look at the tank, so this could last a few minutes, or much, much longer. He didn't have time to wait though. Sticking his hand out of the side opposite the flamethrower, he flicked his wrist and sent his shuriken sailing through the air. It arch around the room, heading right for the flamethrower set up. It sliced through the tube connecting the fuel to the weapon, causing the fuel to spray uncontrollably for a few moments before the tube hit the floor, more liquid leaking out of the hole.
By then, the flames stopped and Batman emerged from behind his cape. He eyed the fuel pooling at the weapon stand's legs, reaching across the room. There was a large tank behind the set up, which meant this could have gone for hours, going so far as to burn the entire building down.
Moving out of the way of the barrel, Batman went to examine the setup. This wasn't something that could be bought at a retailer, so someone had spent some money to set up this trap. Getting any sort of registration numbers off of it would help him—
"Congratulation, Batman."
That voice…
Batman turned his head to the tape recorder, the reels still running. Those screams had been bait for him, just so that he could hear this message.
"Yes, it is I, Professor Hugo Strange. It is time that we settle our score. I know you have survived my greeting and wish to congratulate you on your success. You have most likely figured out that the screams are merely a recording to draw you here. You have also realized that this is the first of many traps throughout this building. You have a choice: seek me out, or leave. If you leave now, I promise you will live to fight another day—a simple, intelligent choice I might add. However, if you do, the woman's who's voice has drawn you here will die and we both know you cannot allow that to happen. Find me and perhaps you stand a chance at rescuing her."
Batman clenched his hands into fists. Strange, what the hell was he doing out of Arkham? While it was possible he never left, arranging for his death was just another in a long list of crimes that man had committed. It seemed he was due for a visit.
"If you would return to the lobby, you will find a clue that will lead you to me, your ultimate rival. Solve it to bring yourself one step closer to me—and your final moments. I eagerly await you."
The recorder came to a stop. Clearly the reels were finished. Face hardened, Batman left the room, heading back for the lobby. However, when he reached the mouth of the corridor, he came to a stop, pressing his back against the wall. Peering into the large room, he searched for any threats, others traps that Strange most certainly had in place. No doubt this alleged clue of his would be the bait for the next one.
Except Strange had an obsession with him. He would want to be present when he fell; in fact, he would want to be right next to him as he breathed his last breath so that he could taunt his superiority. This...this place wasn't that. Though he wasn't going to let his guard down, Batman did give the lobby another look around, seeing nothing that made him suspect a trap.
So he ventured out into the room. There was a clue to Strange's location here and he was going to find it. He circled the lobby first, making sure not to set off a tripwire. Just because he doubted this was where Strange wanted him to end didn't mean he wouldn't be cautious. Slowly he began to circle towards the center of the room, eyes peeled.
He spotted it then. As he took a step, the dark-clad man spotted a sharp knife lying on the floor. In comparison to the rest of the room, it was spotless, gleaming in the dim lighting. Clearly it had been placed here. Why, was the question. This wasn't a knife that belonged in some dilapidated building; it should have been found in a kitchen.
And that was the clue—Strange wanted him to go to the kitchen. That was assuming there was such a place here. Scanning the room again, he found what he was looking for, a building directory. Heading right for it, he stopped in front of it and read off its contents. A glass case should have been here, but had been broken long ago.
There it was, first floor and naturally towards the back. So where was he? When he had burst through a window to enter this place...it had been the third floor. This lobby complex was easily the second and third floors then. It was time to go down.
There were a set of elevators nearby, but he ignored those. There was no telling how long they had been in disuse, thus making them deathtraps. He found a staircase nearby and took it down. Entering the first floor, he wandered around until he found the kitchen. There was a set of double doors, round windows in each one. One of the doors was hanging onto dear life from one of its hinges, a good push away from falling off entirely. The other one was still upright, but the broken door was hanging right in front of it.
He pushed through the good door, ducking down to avoid the precariously hanging door. The kitchen looked like the rest of the building, covered in grime and graffiti. It wasn't a big place as it was a thin rectangle-shaped room and he had entered in the middle of one of its long sides. There was a rusty metal counter, where food would be placed for pickup right in front of him. Beyond that was a set of four ovens, black scorch marks outlining them from use.
One of the doors to the ovens was wide open, heat pouring from it as the inside of glowing orange. And situated within it was a pack of dynamite with a timer counting down.
:08…:07…
There was no time to disarm. So Batman spun around and forced his way through the doors, knocking off the broken door from its hinge. Grabbing onto the edge of the remaining one by its edge, the vigilante braced himself behind it and waited.
There was a blast, a deafening BOOM! Surprisingly, there wasn't a lot of force that hit the door and subsequently him. Frowning, Batman slowly pushed the door open and found the room covered in confetti. Much of it had been thrown throughout the room, some of which was caught in the oven, setting the pieces of paper on fire.
This was strangely familiar.
That was when he noticed a bigger piece of paper draped over the food counter. Stepping towards it, Batman picked it up and saw a number on it. 309 it read.
Third floor, room nine. What the hell was Strange up to? First he had him go to the first floor, now back to the third? Clearly he was leading him by the nose and he didn't like it. Unfortunately, there was a hostage he couldn't allow him to kill, so there wasn't much of a choice in the matter.
That's when a sharp whistle rang out.
Jerking his head around, he looked down the server's corridor that led to the kitchen. At the end of it, he saw a thin figure, dressed tightly in mix-matching red and black.
"Hey ya, Bats!" the high-pitched voice of Harley Quinn rang out. "Care for a romp through the creepy abandoned building? I know I'm hot and ready!"
What the hell is she doing here? Harley Quinn, the former Dr. Quinzel should have been locked up in Arkham, not prancing around in her jester's outfit. When had she escaped? When had Strange? Why were the two of them at the same location? He needed answers and some of them were staring at him from the end of a long hallway.
Tossing away the note, Batman took off running at Quinn, who squealed with glee before taking off herself.
Quinn didn't go too far. As he rushed out of the hallway's mouth, he spotted the jester girl slipping into an open elevator. To be more precise, the elevator doors were open, but there was no elevator, revealing the shaft. He spotted the woman from the knees up, a hand on the central cable that allowed the elevator to go up. "Ahh, to be chased by a dark, handsome guy," she sighed. "Reminds me of college. Keep chasing me, Bats!"
That's when she kicked something out of sight and suddenly she shot upwards into the shaft. Rushing to the open elevator doors, he looked up, watching Quinn hanging onto the main elevator cable as it pulled her higher. There was a second elevator in the shaft and it was falling down in the shaft next to the one the vigilante was looking into. Immediately he pulled back and pressed his back against the wall next to the elevators.
There was a thunderous crash as the elevator hit the floor, a cloud of dirt and dust flooding through the open elevator door. Batman waited a moment for it to clear before he pulled out his gas mask and shoved it into place on his cowl. An old building like this was made when safety regulations were practically non-existent. No doubt there was asbestos hanging around and he didn't need to damage his lungs that recklessly. Moving back into the elevator shaft, he saw the crumpled remains of the elevator next to him. Looking up, he saw a set of elevator doors were open, the head of Harley Quinn peeking through them.
Pulling out his grapple, he fired up to the top of the shaft, causing the woman to squeak before jerking out of sight. Batman flew up the shaft the moment he hit the retraction button, reaching the top and entering the fifth floor.
Quinn had run down a nearby hallway and was at the end, taking a left. Batman gave chase, feet pounding the floor as his cape billowed out behind him. He made the turn at the end of the hall and caught sight of a door at the end swinging closed.
The door never fully closed as he rammed into it, leading with a foot as he kicked it back open. He passed through the door—
And was promptly hit in the face with a mallet.
The force of the blow nearly broke the gas mask on his face, cracks appearing on it. Stars exploded before his eyes and he stumbled back, his back hitting a wall. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the daze.
Only for something to explode next to his head. His vision cleared up enough by then that he noticed a yellow gas rushing over his face. Because of the cracks in his gas mask, the gas seeped right in and he breathed it in. Damn it
Immediately he began coughing, stumbling forward. Something knocked out his legs from beneath him and he fell to the floor, landing on his stomach. This made it just as hard for him to breath as the air in his lungs was forced out of his lungs. Gagging, he tried to catch his breath, letting out a deep gasp.
That's when he felt it. It started at the tips of his fingers and toes and worked frighteningly fast, racing up his arms and legs. They went rigid and stiff, the Dark Knight unable to move them. Before he knew it, he was paralyzed, frozen on the floor.
"Awww, is Bats trying to take a nap?" he heard Harley Quinn coo. "You can't do that! You're about to miss the big reveal!"
A pair of gloved hands grabbed his head and he was forcibly turned to a side. The room he was in was in ruin, a portion of the roof caved in, allowing the elements to come in. There was clear water and snow damage on the walls and floor.
And standing between the water damage and him was a man in a dark trench coat and wide-brimmed hat.
He would have clenched his fist if he had been able to.
The Joker then spun around and looked at him. There was no smile on his face, which was...rather concerning. His sunken eyes gazed at the vigilante emotionlessly. "You know, it would be so easy to kill you, right here, right now?"
Batman just stared, unable to speak.
"I'm sure you recognize the gas I hit you with," the Joker continued, not the least bit concerned. "My lovely Joker Venom variant that froze the Underpants Brigade you used to hang out with. Don't worry, I gave you a weak dose compared to them. Should only last fifteen minutes or so, which is plenty of time for what needs to be done here tonight."
The Joker took a step towards him and then another. "I must congratulate you, Boo. This went better than I thought it would."
"Awww, how sweet," Harley cooed. "Just like a cyanide pie."
"Quite right!" A glimmer of the Joker's notorious smile threatened to appear on his face, but he was quick to smother it. What the hell was going on here? "I know you were busy chasing that strange shrink around the building, but allow me to spoil the punchline: there's no hostage. Never was one. In fact, the next room he was sending you was going to gas you with a heavy dose of pancuronium bromide, the same stuff they used on death row. It's nothing like my paralytic agent naturally, but Strange is such a dull boy he has to recreate some of my finer moments."
Suddenly, that confetti bomb made sense. It was just like when the Joker pranked the entire city into thinking he had trucks carrying a bomb of Joker Venom throughout the streets, only for it to be confetti. The flamethrower could also be a reference to the Great Gotham Fire and the multiple firebombs that had been placed throughout the city.
As for the pancuronium bromide, it most likely was a stand-in for the City Hall gas attack, the first known use of Joker Venom.
Why was Strange doing that though? What was the point?
"You don't have to worry about the gas, or any other of the strange shrink's little traps. I've taken the liberty of dismantling them," the Joker continued. "That way you and I can finish our little chat. Harley!"
"Yes, Mr. J?"
"Set up the deterrent, if you would."
"Awww, but Puddin', I wanted to see you and Bats talk," the jester girl whined.
"Set it up," the Joker growled, which caused Quinn to squeak before taking off. "Sweet girl, but sometimes she just can't take a hint," he commented out loud.
It wasn't long before Harley came back, struggling to drag a box across the floor. She grunted and groaned the whole way until she reached the door. Due to the angle of his frozen head and neck, Batman was unable to see what she was doing.
"Until my paralytic agent wears off, we can't have just anyone find you in this compromising situation," the Joker said. "So Harley here is setting up a deterrent: a fifty caliber machine gun with enough firepower to punch a hole into a battleship. That should keep you safe until you can move again and disarm it. Now, down to business."
The Joker crouched down, resting on the balls of his feet as he looked down at the dark-clad man. "I know, I'm confusing you. It's quite easy to do, you know, but this time there's an altruistic reason for this. I'm just letting you know that Strange is gunning for you. He wants to kill you to show he's better than both of us, blah, blah, blah, you know the gist. I, on the other hand, don't want him to kill you because he's such a pompous blowhard. Not at all original and highly forgettable, you know? So you need to keep your nose clean, catch the guy, break some of his teeth if you can, and we can resume our regularly scheduled programming."
He then reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. "I know, this is a prime opportunity to do the deed myself...but this is just so unfitting. Some crummy building in a crummy part of the city—that just will not do. When I kill you, it'll be loud, out in the open, for all to see. As much as I rather not like that Bane fellow, he at least had enough style to toss you out into the streets for everyone to look at his handiwork. Strange doesn't even have that and I will not settle for someone of his low caliber to get one over you."
The Joker then pocketed his gun. He then reached down and patted the side of his face. Had it not been for the broken gas mask, it would have been his cheek that had been patted. "Now you stay safe, do that hero thing you do, and then we'll meet up at the afterparty and share a drink. I'll buy the first round even." Then he raised his voice. "Harley!"
"All done, Mr. J!" the jester girl sang.
"Well done, my dear!" The Joker stood up and held his arm out. "Then let us be on our way! There's little to do and much time to do it in!"
"Uhh, Puddin'? Don't you mean it the other way around?"
"Huh? What did I say?"
"There's little to do and a lot of time to do it."
"Then reverse it. Ta ta for now, Batsy! We must be on our way!"
The sound of footsteps grew softer until they stopped entirely. The entire time, Batman laid there, unable to even move a finger. His mind was taking in what the deranged clown had told him. Strange was out and gunning for him; the Joker clearly wanted him stopped and had gone so far as to help him out, the paralyzing Joker Venom notwithstanding. What kind of endgame did that maniac have in mind?
It would be some time, but eventually the venom would wear off. And then he would be back on the streets, hunting down these two madmen.
