Batman stood alone at the top of one of Gotham's many skyscrapers. The night was quiet. He could actually hear the distant chirping of crickets a long way below him, the soft rush of cars down the city streets. Sounds that were normally blocked out by cries for help. But tonight, Gotham slept.
And Batman knew that it would not last.
"Robin, come in. Where are you?" He asked into his mic. No answer. Batman would not panic. There could be a simple explanation. Robin's communicator could have been damaged. He might just be busy, unable to respond. Or it could be something far worse.
Batman changed the channel to Wayne Manor. "Alfred, are you there?"
"Of course, sir, I have absolutely nothing better to do on such a fine night than to wait for your call in this dingy little room you call a headquarters," came the reply.
"Glad to hear it," Batman said, holding back a small smirk at Alfred's typical British wit. "I want you to keep an eye out for Robin, I can't get in touch with him. It's possible his equipment is malfunctioning. I'm going to look for him. If he comes back to the Cave, tell him to wait there and contact me immediately." He paused, looking over the city, trying to decide where to begin his search. "It's too quiet out here, old friend. There's something up."
"Yes, God forbid there be a lull in Gotham's infamous crime rate. Give Master Timothy some credit, he has had your training. He can take fine care of himself."
Batman said nothing for a moment. There was a nagging feeling in his gut, something about the calm, summery night felt ominously chilling. "I don't want to take any chances."
0-0-0-0
Batman was starting to think that his worries were justified. The search had been on for over an hour, and there was still no sign of Robin.
But suddenly, the communicator crackled to life. "Batman? Can you hear me?"
"Robin, where are you?" Batman asked quickly. But it wasn't Robin who answered.
"Oho, so THAT'S what this little gadget is for," came an all-too-familiar voice through the tiny speaker. "Hello Batsy, long time no see!"
"What do you want, Joker?" Batman growled, clenching his fists.
But the Joker's voice was more distant, as if he had turned away from the communicator. Batman could distantly hear the sounds of a scuffle starting to break loose.
"Harley, tie our little birdie back up before he flies away again. And do it RIGHT this time!"
"Okie-dokie, Puddin'!"
"What have you DONE?" Batman asked, his growl more threatening and menacing than ever without raising the slightest bit in volume.
"Nothing just yet, Batty. But we're so looking forward to your company. Of course, you wouldn't answer any of my calls." The Joker gave a loud, melodramatic sniff. "So we had to find some other way to get your attention. You understand."
"You let him go right now."
"Tut tut, you sound like you're accusing me of something!"
"I am."
Batman could dimly hear the scratching of a pen on paper. "Well now, that just won't do. We'll just need to push your appointment up, now won't we? How's tonight for you?"
"What are you babbling about?" Finally getting aggravated, Batman raised his voice.
"Well it'll just have to do. Come on around by our office. 43 Birch Street, you can't miss the place. It's just to die for." The Joker began to laugh wildly, and the connection cut off.
Batman took the smallest instant to clear his mind before setting off quickly for Joker's location.
0-0-0-0
Finally, Batman approached the old building. It was condemned, dusty, probably rotting, as he could have guessed. A crooked sign on the door read "Sam's Seasonal Sniggers: CURRENTLY Ha-Ha-Halloween."
An abandoned comedy club. He should have known.
Batman looked up to the top of the building. It looked like it could have been someone's home, from the attic on the top. But he didn't focus on that. There was a flagpole sticking out from the side of the building, below a window, with a black and yellow cape hanging down, blowing softly in a breeze. This was the place, alright.
With caution, Batman pushed open the creaking door and went inside.
