JMJ

Chapter Five

Harley and Harvey Say Howdy Doody

Bullock had only left Montoya and a couple other cops on the other side of the alley to catch the runaway. This was the last thing he had expected. Yet, he had his gun aimed at Scarface in a second anyway.

"Freeze! Gotham Police!" he shouted loud enough in the hope that Montoya or somebody back there would hear him; his booming voice overtook the alley in powerful echoes, "Drop your weapons and Howdy Doody!"

Scarface just as quickly slipped behind the wall again, faster than Bullock thought the old guy holding him possible.

The stealth and strength of crazy people, Bullock had no need to remind himself.

Bullock fired, and just nicked the puppet's hat enough to send it flying, but it was enough time for Mugsy to start firing machine gun pellets now that his boss was out of harm's way.

Bullock dropped and rolled as hard as he could behind a dumpster so that he rammed into the brick wall of the old building beside it. Snow clinging to the bricks sprinkled him like a Russian Tea Cake what the slush below him had not already gotten wet, but the pellets were still firing.

"C'mon, Montoya!" he seethed through his teeth.

Then he heard a sound just as heard the pellets stop. It wasn't a good sound either. It was the sickening squeak of wet metal, and he suddenly remembered Rhino. No one stronger. Maybe not even Croc when it came to the strength of Rhino's arms, and Bane didn't count.

Bullock tried to get out of the way of the dumpster swinging down upon him like a train from above. He rolled with all his might, but it struck him.

Not his head or chest at least, but the searing pain of metal sandwiching his leg against the pavement was enough to awaken wounds from duty ten years ago. The whole alley seemed to starburst around him as he let out a cry, but his anger and years of experience at least kept him conscious enough to keep the scream short and try again for his gun however desperately.

His backup was coming. He could hear them, but he was not in a condition to fire fast enough to get out of the way of Rhino's charge at him. At least, it was Rhino himself instead of the dumpster. Bullock just got knocked out colder than the frozen snot already on the pavement a few feet away from him.

#

Bullock moaned.

Sure, it was from the pain in his throbbing skull, and the wince and squeak was from the pain in his leg, but he would have moaned anyway coming to the quick realization that whatever Scarface had been originally up to, he sure had a consolation prize for not getting it. The sound of the nearest siren being so distant meant that he had already been used for a hostage.

That left him now in the back of a psychopath's getaway car with two of the most brainlessly obedient goons this side of the Atlantic, but he had to do something. First thing, he tried to do was to pretend he was not as conscious as he was. That wasn't going to work well, though, he soon found.

"Yo, Rhino," said Scarface in that annoying old-gangster voice he had. "Give donut-gut his 'howdy doody'!"

"Right boss!" said Rhino merrily.

He socked Bullock good right in the stomach.

"O-oh!"

"Boss, they're still on our tail!" complained Mugsy.

"Just keep driving, saw-dust-for-brains, don't whine at me! We're past the bridge, take our 'snake route'; that'll help us loose 'em."

Bullock was still moaning when he blinked his eyes up to see Scarface's non-sentient face right in his.

"No one messes with Scarface, see? Not the fuzz, not nobody, 'specially not upstarts like you."

"You won't have me for a hostage," Bullock tried to say challengingly, but it came out as little more than a wheeze.

"We're through with you as a hostage. Now that you're done, we're just gunna let you take a swim in Gotham Bay like the tree stump you are. You may think you're smart just cuz they gave you the title 'detective', but your head's thicker than the rest of you."

I'm not gunna go down at the hands of a crazy puppet guy, I'm not gunna down at the hands of a crazy, frizzle-haired old man with a butt-ugly puppet, Bullock thought to himself squeezing his eyes shut with a growl.

"And no Bats around," remarked Scarface. "Probably dismiliatin' overused crossword clues with Riddler or just doing a famous Ferris wheel roulette game with the Joker. Like you, he don't think much of Scarface just cuz I'm not one of his flashy Mardi Gras tango partners, but that's the way I like it."

"Now you're gunna monologue at me too?" Bullock managed to bite his tongue against saying that one out loud. It just barely touched his lips when he caught it.

The law meant nothing to fruit cakes like Wesker. Sense meant even less, and glib was just asking for trouble. After all, Wesker truly believed it was Scarface doing all this anyway and that he was just a victim of circumstance and had no choice in the matter.

Oh, Bullock hated fruitcakes!

"Uh…" said Wesker suddenly, soft and mild though his voice was, it made everyone in the car (even the driver) look at him. "Mr. Scarface?"

"Wat!" spat Scarface.

"Yah!" screamed Mugsy as smog exploded around them, enshrouding the vehicle in blackness.

With a horrible screech, Mugsy stopped the car. They skidded against a rail, and the road got bumpy quickly. By the time the smog cleared enough they were off the road and spinning into the edge of a piece of ground just overlooking a dockyard. To Mugsy's credit, he just managed to keep from crashing through the wire fence that would have had them tumbling into the ocean and hitting the cliffs closer down where they dug out from the side like an overbite near the closest boardwalk.

Mugsy breathed a sigh of relief, and Bullock could not help but join him. Rhino was still only blinking widely out in front of them with mouth slightly ajar.

"Dummy!" snarled Scarface; the first to snap from the trance. "It was the Bat, wasn't it? Spit it out!"

"I— well, probably, Mr. Scarface!" stammered Wesker.

With all the loonies in Gotham, Bullock still had to admit there was really nothing weirder than an old man yelling at himself through a puppet and cowering in front of it with one free arm.

"Whaddya mean, 'probably'? Either you saw him or ya didn't?" Scarface was less than an inch away from biting the Ventriloquist's nose.

He didn't allow Wesker time to explain himself either. Whatever he saw meant that someone in a cape was after them and that was all that mattered to Scarface.

"Rhino!"

"B—-boss?"

"Get out there! I'm surrounded by incompetence!"

Rhino did so, and Mugsy made to follow.

"Hey, did I tell you you could move?"

Mugsy jumped. "No, Boss, Mr. Scarface, Sir!"

"Agh!" growled Scarface.

"There's no one out here, Boss," said Rhino rather befuddled in tone after a few moments of looking.

"Well that smoke pellet didn't just come flying out from a Ninja Turtle movie!"

Scarface paused. Silence reigned like planned suspense as he went thoughtful for a second or two.

"I know how to get the Bat to come out," muttered Scarface. "Get me out, Dummy. Rhino, get the detective here. Mugsy, stay by me."

Thus everyone got out of the vehicle.

Bullock almost bit his tongue again, but this time from the agonizing pain in his right leg as Rhino took his job without much finesse.

"Hey, Bats!" cried Scarface once he had Rhino positioned over the side of the cliff and still nothing happened.

"Better come out or your pal the Commissioner's gunna lose his favorite bulldog."

When still nothing happened, Scarface nodded to Rhino.

"Wait!" cried Bullock, but it was too.

He was all tied up, and Rhino was the superior in the contest of strength. Rhino shoved him right over the side of the fence and down Bullock fell, facing the dagger-like overbite of the rocks below and the angry ocean waves breaking white in lights of the night against the cliff. With each wave they opened a bower for an ocean grave. Bullock screamed, but just before he was half-way down, he heard that glorious sound— that annoying but near holy sound of that grapple gun, the batline. The lifeline is what it was for more than one person falling to their deaths throughout Batman's career.

That did not mean that the sudden jolting halt wasn't painful though, and already in pain as he was, Bullock nearly passed out from that shock. He just stared down woozily at the waves still crashing below his dangling feet. Then he breathed out a weary sigh that smoked white in the chill damp air as he waited for Batman to take care of the whackos above.

He heard gunfire. He heard shouts from Scarface and Batman's name being yelled. He heard Rhino charge, and something explode. The car was decimated, it sounded like, and the fight moved downwind a bit.

"I still can't see him!" cried Rhino.

There must have been a lot of smoke pellets. The sneak and jump tactic being used over and over to finish these guys off seemed a little unusual for Batman's style when he could have taken out Scarface easily and the goons would be immobilized with the puppet out of commission, but he was too tired to analyze or criticize at the moment.

At least the fight was over. Whether they ran out of bullets or Rhino knocked himself out, it was over. He heard some muffled complaints, but otherwise all became silent. Then he felt a tug.

He looked up, but not enough to truly see upwards.

"Ngh! Ngh! Ngh!"

Female grunting.

"You mean it's not Batman!?" snapped Bullock.

"Don't worry!" called the female voice; she sounded annoyingly familiar like the way one of his old grade-school teachers used to accidently squeak her chalk on the chalkboard. "I'll have ya up in a sec, Detective Bee— uh, Bullock!"

He ground his teeth, and forced his head upwards. The long bat ears that looked more like jester pompoms and a mask that was shiny black and purple, made him roll his eyes.

"Great!"

Out of all the people that could have come to his rescue, it had to be Lunabat!

The way she struggled with the line pulling him up made him moan again. His hands were bound doubly from Rhino's knots and Lunabat's line. With his right leg wounded his only helpful limb was his left foot, and although he could try to get a footing it would be less helpful instead of more. So he was reduced to being at her mercy.

She tugged and tugged, and his right leg began to throb.

Sometimes, Lunabat gained some ground, and sometimes she lost it, and every once in a while she had to call down, "Don't worry, Detective, it won't be long now!"

"Oh!" moaned Bullock feeling like a worm dangling over the water with a bungling fisherman. "Just let me die!"

"Oh, don't have an attitude like that, Detective!"

"Hey!" snapped Bullock. "Don't I know you?"

Lunabat paused in her tugging and looked up thoughtfully. "I may have saved you before, does that count?"

"I'd remember if it was anything like this!" snapped Bullock.

"Hey, I doing my best," said Lunabat; she was still trying to smile. "Maybe if you helped climb up."

"I woulda done that already if I coulda, kid," sighed Bullock, his gruff lost in an instant. "Between being tied up and doing my part as Rhino's punching bag…"

"Right. Heh! Sorry."

"Yeah, right," Bullock breathed.

But just then he heard another grapple-gun fire. His eyes widened. Lunabat lost her hold, but the new line caught him in an easy swing. He was pulled up with ease before he knew what entirely had happened.

"Batman?" asked Lunabat nervously, but by the time Bullock had oriented himself, at the top of the cliff now, Batman was nowhere in sight if he ever had been.

So he left him with Lunabat again.

Bullock moaned once more, and allowed himself to collapse in the snow with exhaustion.

"Detective!" cried Lunabat rushing to his side. "Detective, are you okay?"

She removed the line from around his middle and shook his shoulder when he still did not move.

"Hey, Detective?"

"Tell, me when this nightmare is over," he breathed.

"There, there, Detective," said Lunabat and she sucked in and winced as she saw the state of his leg. Then she patted his shoulder gently.

"Look, Lunabat…" he said.

"What?" Lunabat held her breath.

"I have no idea what your beef is. I get it less than I get Batman, but…" he digressed. "Thanks, kid."

Lunabat smiled. "I know first aid…" she offered

"No," muttered Bullock, but he was still too weary to move had she attempted to do something anyway, which she was just then.

"Ah!" cried Bullock when she pulled away the grimy pant leg to reveal that swollen shin.

"Take it easy," whispered Lunabat, but she almost sounded as though she was talking to herself as she spoke again, "just take it easy."

She did not have to coax herself for long though. The sirens were coming, and it was about time. Lunabat paused.

"Take it easy, Detective Bullock, Gotham needs guys like you," Lunabat said with a gentle chirp of a voice.

By the time Bullock lifted his head in the light of the oncoming police car slowing as it spotted him, the whole thing might have been a dream: Lunabat, Batman, Puppet-gramps and all. But living in Gotham, Bullock knew every second was as real as the snow numbing his fingers in front of him as Montoya called to him from over the open car door.