Fire trucks surrounded the blaze. Water cannons were blasting water high into the air in order to put the fire out, dark smoke mingling with rising white steam. Despite their efforts, Robinson Park still smoldered.
Batman watched the firefighters working as hard as they could to put out the fire. It would be some time yet, most likely well into the daylight hours before it was completely under control. As the firefighters worked, police cars made a barricade to keep bystanders out. Not too far from those cars were news vans with the press trying to weedle out what had happened here.
It would be a fruitless effort since none of the people down there knew what happened.
It shouldn't have been surprising that the Joker had set the entire place on fire. His random quirks had worked to his advantage as he had laid his homemade lighter fluid all over the place. Strange hadn't planned on that; Poison Ivy hadn't given it a second thought until he had lit that match.
What had first been an attempt to apprehend them all became a rescue mission to get him and the Birds out of there. The blaze had effectively cut them off from Strange and the Joker's forces, so they were unable to arrest a single one of them. On top of that, Fries had been present, blasted out of the pavilion by Manhunter. He was perhaps the only person there that could have put that fire out single-handedly, but considering ice didn't cover an entire section of the park, it was more likely he fled while he had the chance.
Surrounding the Dark Knight were the Birds, the women gazing out at the sight of ruined Robinson. All were accounted for, the worst injuries being scraps and bruises. That was at least one positive.
However, they had one more person with them.
Catwoman stood a short distance away, keeping a divide between them. He hadn't seen the cat burglar since she had vanished at the Riddler's maze so many months ago. Her appearance after so long—with a Man-Bat hot on her heels no less—set his suspicions on high alert.
Pulling away from the Birds, the vigilante walked right up to the woman, stopping a short distance away. "What were you doing here tonight?" he bluntly asked.
Catwoman gave him a long sideways look. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"It is when you usually have an ulterior motive."
She smirked at him, then returned her attention to Robinson. "I was in the area and saw a bunch of weird things going on. I decided to have a look around. Next thing I know, I'm running away from a giant bat."
That part was at least true. Catwoman had arrived at the pavilion just as it was consumed in flames and the vigilantes piled out of it to escape. Batman had encountered a number of arsons before, but he had never seen one spread as fast as this one. So they collected her and took her with them. There had been concerns about the Man-Bat, but it had shrieked at the rising flames and bolted.
"And what were you doing prior to arriving at the park?"
"So much for being friends," she muttered under her breath. "In case you hadn't noticed, that Riddler jerk had plastered a riddle all over town. After what he put us through, I wanted to make certain he wasn't running around again. The last thing Gotham needs is to have more kids trapped in a virtual reality system again."
Batman couldn't fault that; however, he couldn't help but feel this wasn't the whole story with this woman. She played things close to the vest. There was something else going on here.
Unfortunately, that would have to wait. There were bigger problems here.
"I think interrogating her isn't going to get much more done here," Black Canary spoke up. "We have other things to worry about." It was like she was reading his mind as she voiced his previous thoughts. "Do you think Strange and the Joker got out of there in one piece?"
"I would count on it," Huntress immediately responded. "Short of them finding bodies, I would bet my life savings they all got out."
"I'd say the same thing about the Iceman," Manhunter agreed. "I know I blasted him back there, but I can remember reading reports that he could take a bazooka missile and walk away."
"The Iceman?" Catwoman perked up. "He was there? Why? Why would he be there too?"
"No clue," Huntress told her. "Though you better be careful. He doesn't like criminals, so he may target you at some point."
The two women glared at each other. It was pretty clear they didn't like each other. Regardless, no matter what Catwoman was up to, be it good or—most likely—bad, he didn't want to see her get killed. Perhaps she would lay low while Fries was out and about, keeping herself safe and putting off whatever plans she had. Knowing her, it had something to do with Max Shreck.
"Some time ago, Strange and the Joker had a battle on top of the old Nora Fries Foundation building," BAtman told the cat burglar. "It was destroyed primarily by Poison Ivy. Fries heard about it and broke out of Blackgate. He was specifically targeting her first in the pavilion."
"Really? That's it?" Catwoman responded dubiously. "Some old, crumbling building and he gets pissed off?"
"Nora Fries was his wife," he explained. "Before he became the Iceman, he established the foundation as a charity in her name. After he became the Iceman, he found out the charity's president had been involved in highly illegal activities abroad, dealing in the blood diamond trade in Africa being one of the more egregious ones. Fries saw that as besmirching his wife's legacy and killed the foundation's president. He then came to the conclusion that it was the city itself that twisted his wife's good name into something horrific and that led to the Night of Ice."
The thief was quiet after that. "So he's touchy about his wife. Good to know," she murmured. "And you think he just wants the people that destroyed her building?"
Batman nodded. "I do. If anything gets in his way, he has no problem removing it as an obstacle either, so I suggest you steer clear."
"You don't have to tell me twice." A pause. "What do you plan on doing to stop all of this?"
Batman looked out into the dying blaze of Robinson. "I'm going to catch all of the inmates."
"Is that going to happen any time soon?"
"Knowing who's out in the city, doubtful. These aren't normal criminals we're dealing with. Unless we get real lucky, or they do something stupid, it's going to take time."
Catwoman shared his look at the ruined park. "If that's any indication, I think we'll be lucky if any part of the city is still standing."
Pessimistic, sure, but that didn't mean she was wrong. Twice now, Strange and the Joker had gotten away. That was two times too many, but without any leads on where to find them, it was going to be a long hunt.
If Gotham was still standing by the end of it, it would look very different from how it started.
Failures had a tendency to stack upon themselves.
Case in point, there were multiple failures, from failing to eliminate even one member of the Joker's forces, to preventing Batman and his allies from reaching them, to the utter annihilation of Robinson Park and all the resources they had put into it, one failure after another.
Yet somehow, that was not the worst. The worst involved Pamela Isley. The intervention of Victor Fries had been completely unanticipated. His wounding of Isley had carried unforeseen consequences. One such was the ice that still enveloped her hand. They were busy trying to thaw it out, and currently their best was a bowl of warm water heated with a Bunsen burner. Jervis had been assigned to retrieve some chemicals, ones that would lower the boiling point and raise the freezing. Anything to speed up the thawing process.
The ice, however, was not the worst to happen to this remarkable specimen. The fire that the Joker had set had greater repercussions. There had been a time when Pamela had been rendered nearly comatose; now she was content to stare off into empty space, the words "my...babies…" occasionally slipping through her lips with the softest of voices.
She was traumatized. Post-traumatic stress was obvious. The horrors of Robinson Park continued to haunt her.
It had to be at the most inopportune of times.
"Well, this has certainly been a bust," Edward remarked, fidgeting with a completed Rubix cube. "All that time, all that effort, and what have we to show for it?" Pausing, the genius intellect glanced over at Pamela. "One of our heavy hitters is near useless, trapped in flashback after flashback. Classic PTSD to me. It was a miracle we were able to get out of there in one piece."
Strange grimaced. He did not need anyone vocalizing his thoughts. "We had a set back last night. We, however, emerged from it, no casualties." Pausing, he gave that some thought, "Physically. Pamela's current psychological state leaves much to be desired."
Edward gave a wry smirk. "Planning to give her some of your unique brand of therapy? You might want to be careful, Professor. There's no telling if that will also backfire."
Tempting, but to turn a transformed woman such as Pamela Isley into another one of his time bombs would take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and thanks to the example of Harvey Dent, he doubted that he would survive if she were to turn on him. He also could not afford the time and the effort to go that route. Pity, but there were more pressing concerns right now.
So ignoring Edward's barb, "We need to begin planning a new offensive. The number of players has increased, and will continue to do so. That must be taken into account. Since there have been no reports of any fatalities, we must assume our enemies are still out there. That includes the tragic Victor Fries."
"That was quite a show," Edward remarked. "You hear the stories, but to see it… That man is a force of nature, fully capable of masterminding the Night of Ice."
"...not a man..." Pamela murmured. The two men turned their gazes to the traumatized woman. "...a god…"
"His talent for leaving an impression has not weakened in all his years incarcerated either," Edward concluded.
"We may not have the option of being as open as we were with Robinson Park," the former shrink continued. "Victor must have also solved the riddle and made his way to us. As powerful as Pamela is, nature is more delicate than I had realized. The cold that Victor Fries wields is anathema to her. To prompt more of her displays of power will give us away and allow this new third party to track us down. He will see us dead, no question, and he will start with her."
"A change in tactics is what you are considering." Edward spoke with such an airy quality, like he was making commentary and lacking investment.
"We went with big, loud, and ambitious," Strange said. "So let us do the opposite. Small scale and individual. Divide and conquer."
"I noticed you said nothing about being quiet."
A wry smile curled his lips. "Considering who we are and who our adversaries are, quiet is out of the question. That does not mean we will stay on such a small scale. We can build up to something more glorious. Perhaps the utter humiliation and annihilation of the Joker, to be followed up with the unmasking of Batman. In which case, we need to lure them in, create a narrative they all get invested in, follow our lead, and walk right into the trap that they themselves have blinded themselves to."
Edward gave a chuckle. "Now that sounds like a stimulating use of time." He had captured his ally's interest; now to continue and keep him interested.
"You may not know this, but before my public fall from grace, I served as the Joker's psychiatrist. Most of what he said was a lie, but given the amount of time we spent, even he was unable to drop a kernel of truth here and there. Tiny details, but ones that could be followed if only you understood the clue. Perhaps what Gotham needs is another unmasking."
"The second greatest riddle of all," Edward remarked. "Who is the Joker?"
"Who was he before the Joker?" Strange agreed. Letting his lips part to expose his teeth, "Let us find out."
The disrepair that had fallen about the basement was alarming, but not completely unexpected. It did make for some difficulty opening the steel door as rust had set inside the hinges. Thankfully, it opened albeit extremely reluctantly.
Fries stiffly entered the refrigerated unit, closing the door behind him. His movements were not the result of bodily harm, though he did feel sore from being blasted through a wall. No, his unnatural movements were due to the damage done to his suit.
The armor plate that protected his chest was dented from where it had been struck. Small portions of the plate had jutted up, revealing a shadowy look into the innards of the suit. The holes themselves were perhaps the size of a quarter, maybe even a half dollar, but it was rather alarming that such damage had been sustained.
Once, this suit was impervious to any sort of physical damage. He had weathered explosions and raining debris with hardly a scratch. Clearly technology had caught up to the advancement of his suit and even surpassed it.
Changes would need to be made. Once he was certain the unit was sealed shut, Victor Fries began deconstructing the suit, removing the glass dome that protected his head. It took some time to get out of the suit due to its damage, but he managed to do so after some effort. Eventually, he took a seat at a nearby rolling stool, pulling off his red-tinted goggles and letting out a sigh.
He had been out of action for too long. His incarceration—justified as it was—had robbed him of his strength and endurance. The suit had made up for that as it had been designed to, but once it began having operational difficulties, it was reliant on him to ensure they left the scene of Robinson Park.
Victor stared at the floor. He could remember the blaze as it spread out from the pavilion. It had been unnatural, an accelerant having been used at some point. He had managed to safely leave the park and kept out of sight until he reached yet another of his secret bases.
He was already down two, the first having been exposed during the Talon Attacks and the second with the Calabreses renewing their vendetta. He would need to be careful lest his few remaining hideaways were discovered.
It was time to lay low. He was being actively sought by authorities and the Batman. If he were to accomplish his objective, he needed to ensure he was incarcerated before that happened. He had been achingly close when he had confronted those Arkham inmates. He had been mere seconds from ending the plant woman's life when Batman's interference stopped him. He could see the woman's hand frozen solid, her eyes radiating fear as she saw her doom. If only he had pulled the trigger sooner.
Victor glanced to his suit. Changes would need to be made, yes, but not simple tweaking. No, wholesale upgrades were needed. His Freeze Gun was a weakness in his offensive arsenal, even with the magnetic components that would ensure it would always be retrieved. That he could be separated from it at any moment would lead to other such circumstances. He needed to remove that weakness.
There was also Batman's arsenal to consider as well. Clearly he had reverse-engineered his freezing technology to create the Freeze Grenade that had stopped him from ending the plant woman. It was also possible he obtained working prototypes he had left with his former colleagues during the so-called Night of Ice. Either way, the man had used them against him. He could not allow a second success to occur again.
Standing up, Victor walked over to a workstation, a computer and printer resting on top of the desk. He opened the printer and retrieved a few sheets of paper. Opening a drawer in the desk, he found a pen. Taking a seat at the chair in front of the workstation, he began jotting down a series of formulas. Taking into account what he knew of the armor, he was determined to calculate just how powerful that energy blast was to damage it like it had. Taking into account that the vigilantes that followed in Batman's footsteps had taken up his no killing belief, he was certain that weapon could be much stronger. Searches on-line for videos showing more of that weapon's capabilities would provide further information. He needed to ensure that his new suit could withstand its power.
Victor paused. Why stop there? If that weapon had been produced during his incarceration, there had to be others as well. This would require much more research, something he could do while he stayed off of the grid.
He stopped with his lengthy calculations, moving that sheet of paper to one side. He could return to it later. He then began writing down what the suit absolutely needed to have, such as the life support systems, the cooling system, and the enhanced strength. Then he began adding in modifications, such as stronger armor, an increase in the suit's strength capabilities, and of course the improved Freeze Gun. Perhaps if he incorporated the weapon's design into the suit itself…
The scratching of his pencil on paper filled his ears until it was all it could hear. One thing was for certain though; he was going to need the materials necessary to create this suit.
The tunnel was dank and dark, a shaft that had once been used when Robinson Park had been constructed. The reason for building it had been lost to time.
Not that it mattered. It was being used now!
"Watch that hole, gentlemen!" the Joker called out over his shoulder as he skipped over said hole. The rest of his team came to a stop, not because they were afraid of a hole. Nope, nope, it was because the person in front of them had stopped and placed her little hands on her hips. "Ahem," she coughed indignantly.
"Oh, and lady," the clown added as an afterthought.
Harley smiled widely before she too skipped over the hole. The others just stepped over it like normal, boring tools. Eh, their loss.
The walls of this place were uneven and gave the impression this place had been built by a mole. But he knew better. Up ahead, it would smooth out. That was when it was time to get serious.
"However did you find this?" Scarecrow asked from way in the back. Ah, a question, but an important question.
"There aren't many secrets this old bird of a city hasn't already told me," the Joker answered, stopping abruptly as he glanced to the roof. The ceiling at least was flat and smooth, though there were small roots of some unknown plant attempting to grow through small cracks. No need to worry, those weren't Pammy's doing, these had been there for awhile.
"Just the ones you ignore," Two-Face grunted.
"Choose to ignore, don't care about, they amount to the same thing." Quite suddenly, the tunnel decided to do better with its lighting and the walls and floor looked very much like a hallway. Here is what he had been looking for. The green-haired man came to a stop and spun around to face his little troupe. "Now this is very important, kiddies," he told them sternly. "If we're to go any further, you need to do like Uncle Joker, mmm'kay?"
He didn't wait for confirmation. Instead he spun back around, grinned, and then darted to his right, leaning as far back as he could until the top of his well-groomed hair nearly touched the wall. After taking a step, he was standing up straight, side-stepping to his left.
Harley copied him motion for motion, the good girl. However, Two-Face rolled his eyes before he strode forward.
In a flash, the Joker had his large handgun out and he was pointing it at the two-faced man. "Uh uh uh, not a step closer."
Two-Face froze, staring at him before he growled. "You better get that gun out of my face."
"Which one?"
"Will you quit with that?!"
"I will when you decide on a face. Clearly you can't be trusted with following the most simple of orders." Joker glanced to Harley and said, "Catch."
Tossing the gun, the clown girl deftly caught it. "Harl, if any of these bozos takes a single step forward, kneecap 'em."
"Right-o, Mr. J!"
"You can't be serious!" Scarecrow exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this? Explain! Now!"
So they wanted an explanation? Too bad he was more of a show-and-tell kind of guy. "Hey, Harl, it looks like you got a smudge of your face," he said instead.
Harley perked up before she reached...somewhere behind her back and pulled out a small compact case. Your guess was as good as anyone's as to where she had that on that skintight outfit of hers. Opening the compact, there was a small mirror and a fluffy brush on top of white foundation. She carefully studied herself in the mirror. "I don't see any—" she began.
Only to be cut off as the Joker reached out and snatched the case out of her hand. Grabbing the brush, he padded it on the foundation before he held it up in front of his face, the brush facing upward. He took a deep breath then and blew it out. Powder foundation was blown through the air, forming a thick cloud.
More importantly though, beams of blue light appeared in midair within the cloud, fading out of sight as the make-up cloud disappeared.
"What the!" Croc exclaimed before looking all over the tunnel. "How many of those are there?"
"Too many to count," the Joker rescinded as he pocketed the foundation compact. He'd have Harley show him where she had hidden it earlier; he was rather interested about that part. "But it goes without saying that if one of the beams is broken, we're going to be in some very big shit, so if you don't mind," at this he gave Two-Face a scowl, "don't move an inch. I need to go turn them off."
What followed was what the Joker liked to call interpretive dance. He began with his side step again before skipping forward. He held his hands over his head and spun around on his tippy toes, his best impression of a ballerina. It wasn't too bad considering how sloppy it was. He pressed forward, leaning waaaay too far to his left and right before he jumped to his right, touching down lightly on his right foot. Keeping his left exaggeratingly up, he then took a very big step forward.
Before he knew it, he had made it through the invisible maze. Now...where was that panel. Looking to his right, he studied the wall. The last time he had been here, it had been right...there. However, there was a faint trace of paint, so faint that one would have needed to be sharp of eye and perhaps obsessive with art. Fortunately, he was both.
So, things had changed here. Right then, time to get to the door. Moving forward, he came to a stop in front of a beam of natural light. He still wasn't sure how this was possible since they were underground, but one never underestimated what their adversary was capable of. Doing his best limbo move, he leaned over and crept under the beam, straightening himself on the other side.
Next, he pressed his back up against a wall and practically dragged himself across it for several feet. "The floor is lava, boys!" he shouted in explanation.
Once he passed that point, he then deliberately moved right into the middle of the tunnel, straightening out his suit jacket before striding a couple steps forward. In front of him was the end of the tunnel and towards the top, a beam of light suddenly appeared. Spreading outwards to the left and right, it then went down, scanning over the Joker, going down to his feet and back up to his head. Then as sudden as it started, it stopped.
A couple seconds later and the dead end slid upwards into the ceiling, revealing a corridor of cement walls. Quickly moving forward, he found a panel to his left, one he deftly punched into a few numbers before a green light appeared on it. "It's safe, boys!"
Another, "Ahem!"
"And girl!"
"Is it safe to just come through?" Croc asked, keeping himself rooted to where he stood.
"It is now. Even Harvey there won't stumble over his two left feet!"
Two-Face growled and muttered under his breath. Still, the team walked forward, edgy as they looked around for any sign of other traps. They even copied the Joker's example when they reached that one part of the floor where he had walked along the wall, copying his movements. It brought a tear to his eyes to see that.
Once they reached him, they walked forward, each villain eyeing the clown to see if he would break out into interpretive dance again. The Joker, however, just strode forward until they entered a large chamber. Boring, square, cement columns reached from the floor to the ceiling to hold it up. Lines of fluorescent light fixtures lit up the place. If the designer had actually any creativeness, this could have been a place right of Lord of the Rings, but noooooo!
It was towards the far side of the room that a large vault stood. Dead center was a wheel, one that Joker pointed at and ordered, "Croc, be a dear and give that little wheel a turn."
"If you think it's safe," the crocodile man said as he began leading their group to the vault door.
"Oh, I wouldn't ask you to do something I wouldn't." At this, the clown looked at the rest of his group and held up both hands as if he were grabbing the wheel. He rolled his eyes into his head and began shaking violently, as if he were being shocked.
Harley giggled, the good girl. Two-Face and Scarecrow just stared at him dumbly. Sheesh, what killed their funny bones?"
Grabbing the wheel, Croc grunted as he turned it, the wheel squealing in protest before it jerked to one side. The vault door opened and he grabbed it, pulling it open further.
They all crossed over as one and were greeted with the sight of what was best described as an underground base. Though the...architecture was something out of last century, the computer station was right out of the future. A couple of motorcycles were hidden in a corner, crates of unknown materials snacked nearby. There were a few tables too with lab equipment as well.
"What is this place?" Scarecrow asked as he gazed out in awe.
The Joker didn't answer him directly. "House rules, everyone. Number one: don't touch anything." He looked right at Two-Face. "That goes doubly for you. The guy that set this up is a touchy fellow and if he knew we were here, he'd treat us like the homewreckers that we are."
His little gang stared at him expectantly. "What?" he asked after a moment.
"Are there any more rules?" Harley gently prodded him.
"Nope, not that I can think of."
"Are you going to tell us what this place is?" Scarecrow demanded them, his patience turning very thin all of a sudden. It was like he was tired of being ignored, or something.
"Well, since you asked so nicely," the Joker began, "this is but one of Batsy's underground bases. He's got a handful of them scattered all over the city."
"You got to be kiddin'!" Croc exclaimed.
Two-Face stared at the base. "I thought he had places likes this. Good to know I was right." A greedy look appeared on his faces. "Let's go take a look at what toys he has."
"Uh uh! Rule number one!" the Joker reminded him.
"Why the hell wouldn't I want to take his equipment?"
"Sheesh, with someone with two faces, you'd think they'd have two brains. Very disappointing, Harv; I didn't think I'd have to explain this." The Joker leaned towards them all, a serious look on his face. "If we ever want to use this place again, we can't leave any trace that we've been here. The only reason we're here is because Batsy doesn't know I know about this place. I'd like to keep it that way."
"You'll have to explain that considering it's pretty clear you uploaded yourself into his security system," Scarecrow pointed out.
"Yeah!" Croc chimed in.
"That's because I know what I'm doing...and you don't. I know Batsy's security protocols like I know the back of my own hand. Besides, why are you complaining? You could be enjoying that lava pit of his if it weren't for me doing what I do."
Scarecrow stared at him before saying. "Ah. Then would you mind telling me how you found this place to begin with?"
"Why, certainly!" He waved them closer to him with his hands. "Gather around Uncle Joker and listen to my tale as it goes waaaaay back. You see, there was this group that called itself the Court of Owls and they decided that I should die. Me! Dead! Who would ever want me dead?"
"I can think of a few people off the top of my head," Two-Face muttered.
"Remind me, where I picked you up again? Oh right, you were running around while the park was burning up. I didn't have to pick you up, ya know," the Joker reminded the ex-lawyer. Seeing his point made, he then wondered out loud, "Now where was I again? Oh, that's right!
"So after I made myself scarce from Arkham, I found myself wandering around Robinson Park upstairs. In fact, I'm rather embarrassed to admit I got lost up there, but I did. So there I was, crying out to God for abandoning me and forsaking me when suddenly I fell into that lovely hole I showed you all and found that tunnel of booby traps. Now, I am not a man to let something like traps keep me out of a place that clearly doesn't want me there, so I made it through in one piece, found a little computer panel in the wall to disable the security and BAM! I found this place. Made myself at home for awhile before cleaning up and leaving for bigger and better opportunities."
"Mr. J," Harley spoke in a soft voice, "you are so amazing."
"Yes, yes, I know."
"Incredible! Stupendous!
"Stop with the flattery, Harl, it's making me blush!"
"No one is nearly as great as you—"
"I said that 's enough!" he roared, cutting the girl off as she cowered from him. After several seconds, "Okay, you can continue."
"Uhh, really, Mr. J?"
"Absolutely. Didn't I ever tell ya I'm a sucker for flattery?"
The bunker Team Joker takes refuge in is based off of the one Batman has in the No Man's Land storyline. Poison Ivy was the one to actually find it and used it as a hideaway, along with a group of orphaned children. Batman has to take on her and Clayface when he needs access to the base. Naturally, I couldn't resist using it here, not to mention the Joker knowing about it due to...a previous story...lol
