"Ok, you need to be careful you don't screw this up," said Joker. "Because we've only got one shot at this, and if you don't do this right, and the bomb blows up, you'll ruin my son's fun."
"Obviously that's what I'm most concerned about," hissed Batman sarcastically, through gritted teeth, as he desperately tried to shut down the system. "Even if I can't stop it, I might be able to reduce the blast radius so it only hits the factory."
"What? Blow up my birthplace?" asked Joker. "But then where will all my numerous fans come to pay homage to the genius that is me?"
"In case you hadn't noticed from the fifteen years that have passed since your death, you don't have any fans," retorted Batman, as he deployed the neutralizing agent into the tubes bubbling with fear gas. "Everyone has forgotten about you."
"Harley hasn't," retorted Joker, smiling. "And it's pretty obvious my kid hasn't – everything he says and does comes straight out of the Joker playbook. I'll admit, one of my few fears was leaving behind a meaningless legacy – the fear that the years and years I spent in violent comedy would be forgotten. But they won't be now. And they never will be again, because the Joker legacy has carried on. Which is more than I can say for your Bat-legacy by the end of the night."
Batman ignored him, summoning the Batmobile via remote. "Let's get out of here," he muttered, leaping into the car. "Before it explodes."
"Ok, but we can watch the fireworks, right?" asked Joker, as he piled in next to him. "I don't wanna miss fireworks."
The Batmobile raced out of the exploding building just in time. Batman turned back to see the factory collapsing in a heap of fire and rubble. "Well, that's a shame," commented Joker. "Not even in my top ten explosions ever, and you think it should be, given that it's where I was born. We should have got some hostages, shot 'em full of Joker toxin, and then stuck 'em in the exploding factory, so their dying laughter would be suddenly cut off by the gigantic boom, and sparkly fireworks. That woulda been better."
Batman's wrist communicator beeped, and he answered it. "Master Bruce, I've been alerted to a huge explosion at Ace Chemicals – are you all right?" asked Alfred.
"I'm fine, Alfred," said Batman. "I managed to stop the explosion reaching the city, so no fear gas bomb for now."
"That is good news, sir," said Alfred. "But in not such good news, both Master Dick and Master Tim are swamped trying to get the city under control. With the police focusing on the evacuation, they have very little help from GCPD. It's just the two of them trying to restore order…oh, one moment, here's Master Tim now," said Alfred, switching the call to Robin.
"Bruce, are you able to get in touch with Barb?" he asked. "I think my tech has malfunctioned, but Dick can't reach her either. Any luck on your end?"
Batman said nothing, considering his options. If Robin learned about Oracle's kidnapping, he would become completely irrational, which was never good for detective work, or crime-fighting work. So the benefit Batman would receive in getting an ally in searching for her would be voided by how useless Robin would be in his state of panic. It was better he remained ignorant of the fact, and kept doing the useful work he was doing without distraction. On the other hand, it seemed wrong to keep this from him…
"No, no, no, there is no other hand!" snapped Joker. "Think of this situation like Aaron Cash, with only one hand! If you tell Loverboy Wonder about the kidnapping, he's going to become hysterical and be of no use to anyone! If he gets himself killed through carelessness, which is likely, that death will be on your head! And the last thing you need is another death on your head - trust me, I'm in your head, and you definitely couldn't cope with the guilt of a second Robin's death! Anyway, you can do this on your own – you've always done everything on your own. You can save Oracle alone, and then explain to her why you hid her situation from Robin. She'll understand – she's a woman! Women know better than anyone how irrational people become when they get hysterical, because women are constantly hysterical! Especially pregnant women. Do you really want to deal with that maelstrom of uncontrollable emotions right now? Or do you want to just tell a teeny, tiny, harmless little lie that can't possibly have any consequences further down the road? Because you'll definitely save her, because you're Batman, and you always do. So Robin never needs to know, and wouldn't it be kind to spare him the pain of worrying? That's the compassionate thing to do. You might as well be compassionate while you can, because once I take over, you're never gonna be again."
"Oracle…is fine," said Batman, slowly. "She told me to tell you that she's deliberately cut her communications since she doesn't think stress is good for the baby. She's…shielding in the Clocktower until this all blows over. But she knows it will, because she has faith in us and loves us."
"Why didn't she tell me that herself?" demanded Robin.
"She tried – your tech failed," retorted Batman. "So she thought I was the next best person to deliver the message. I would have told you sooner, but I just escaped a factory explosion, so I was preoccupied."
Robin sighed. "Ok, thanks, Bruce," he said. "Let's stay in touch and keep each other updated, huh?"
"Of course," said Batman, turning off the communicator.
"Good job, buddy," said Joker, patting him on the back. "Now let's go to the scene of the crime and see if we can find any clues that'll lead us to Oracle. I'm sure Harley left a few – I taught her how to play the game well."
Batman climbed back into the Batmobile, heading to the Clocktower, and trying to reassure himself he'd done the right thing. But for the first time in his life, he had a hard time figuring out what the right thing to do was. Batman had always prided himself on a moral compass instilled into him at a young age, by Alfred in particular. But now it seemed like that compass had deserted him, and he was lost at sea with the Joker.
…
Barbara Gordon awoke to a dilapidated room, broken and overrun by weeds. She tried to move, but found herself tied to a chair. "Where the hell am I?" she muttered, looking around.
"Don't wanna spoil the surprise," said a voice across the room from her, and Barbara turned to see Harley Quinn sitting opposite her, snacking on a bag of marshmallows. "If I told you, you'd sneakily tell Batman somehow," Harley continued. "I know how your mind works, and I don't want to make the game too easy for him."
"Oh my God, Harley Quinn," said Barbara, glaring at her. "I'm guessing I have you to thank for my chloroform headache? If it's not your sick ex-boyfriend attacking me, it's you, probably for similarly stupid reasons. Are you still ridiculously obsessed with revenge for a psychotic maniac who never loved you in the first place?"
"Aw, it's cute you think you know anything about me," murmured Harley, smiling at her. "Or Mr. J. I know there's a lotta psychological projection going on there, and who can blame you? You take up with some bullying thug who disguises violence as justice, and cons you into helping him by brainwashing you into the same hypocritical ideals. So why wouldn't you assume your case is the same as mine? But here's a news flash for you, sweetheart – I wasn't manipulated by anybody. Mr. J respected me for me, which is more than your boss does. Plus, I suspect the reason you joined him was because you were kinda attracted to Batman – lots of women are attracted to seemingly strong, powerful, complex men. But obviously you never got to consummate that attraction, like I did with my strong, powerful, complex man. So you transferred your affections over to Batman Junior, the less threatening, less powerful, and less complex one, but sometimes a girl has to settle, right? I mean, not me, of course. But other girls who don't have any options because their legs don't work anymore."
"The fact that you could love a man who did this to me is evidence of how pathetic you really are," muttered Barbara.
"Maybe," said Harley, shrugging. "Can't say you didn't have it coming, though. Mr. J was always fair with his punishments – he wouldn't be violent for no reason. Oh sure, he would lash out as a joke sometimes, but real, damaging, permanent harm was a joke he only saved for special occasions. So obviously you deserved it. Marshmallow?" she asked, holding out the bag to her.
Barbara just glared at her. "Suit yourself," Harley continued, shrugging again. "I would take advantage of all the sweet stuff I could get – you don't know what's gonna happen to you, after all. Might be something really unpleasant and painful that a marshmallow could just make a little bit better. It's the small things that count when your world is hellish, y'know?"
"What are you going to do to me?" demanded Barbara.
"Nothing right now," retorted Harley. "You should just relax, in your condition, y'know. I'll take good care of ya. Better care than anybody took of me when I was pregnant, but I'm not one to hold a grudge."
"I'm not pregnant," retorted Barbara. "And neither were you – you had a false positive in Arkham City."
"You can lie to me if you want, but your husband said differently," said Harley, holding up her phone which played the audio from the Batcave: Tim, please, I'm fine. I know, I just…couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. Or the baby.
"Y'see, we're more alike than you think," Harley added, smiling. "Both left alone to fend for ourselves during pregnancy. Both of our baby's fathers helpless to help us, yours because he's Robin and therefore useless, and mine because Batman killed him."
"Batman didn't kill Joker," said Barbara. "It was an accident…"
"A good psychiatrist knows there are no accidents," interrupted Harley. "And I'm a damn good psychiatrist. I know Batman told himself, and you, that he couldn't save Mr. J because of an accident with the cure. But it's a lie, because he can't admit to himself that he's a murderer, responsible for the death of his greatest enemy, and responsible for leaving me alone when I needed Mr. J the most. My son grew up without knowing his father, and I know Batman couldn't cope with the realization that he was responsible for that. Given that he grew up without a father too."
"I don't know what you're talking about," retorted Barbara.
"Yeah, you do," said Harley, nodding. "Bruce Wayne locks himself away with guilt for fifteen years. But no matter how much time passes, and how guilty he feels, he can't avoid justice forever. And paying for Mr. J's life with his own is justice. And justice always prevails, right?"
"You're insane," snapped Barbara. "And wrong. And you will be stopped. Batman has always stopped you before…"
"That's because Batman knew us before," interrupted Harley. "But now we know him too, and we know how he thinks. And he has no idea how my son thinks."
"I'm nothing if not unpredictable," said a voice from the doorway, and they both turned to see the Arkham Night standing there, with Scarecrow behind him. "Even for Mommy, isn't that right, Mommy?" he asked, coming over to embrace his mother.
"That's right, baby," said Harley, removing his helmet and kissing his cheek. "Wheels, meet Joker Junior," she said, gesturing to him.
Barbara stared at the young man, who was the spitting image of his father, down to the insane grin. "I'm sorry for what's happened to you," she said, gently. "It must have been very hard for you, growing up without a choice to be anything but a monster…"
"Wow, a good cop, bad cop routine, but with only a good cop," said J.J., smiling as he took a seat in front of her. "That's innovative, but not effective. But I guess Batsy can't fault your creativity, which is why he must have kept you around. That or he has a thing for redheads. I don't, by the way – I prefer blondes," he added, smiling at his mother.
"Of course you do, baby," said Harley, kissing the top of his head. "Just like your Daddy."
"We've set up a little game for your boss," continued J.J., turning back to Barbara with a grin. "He needs to find you before we kill you. And he might – he's good at winning games, you know. But Batman of all people knows that you can do a lotta damage to people without killing them – that's his whole MO. And yours too, I guess, if you ally yourself with him. Now me, I'm not big on method per se, but I am big on knowledge. People always used to say my mother was stupid, but they didn't know her very well. Mommy is very smart, and she taught me to be very smart too. There's nothing like knowledge – it's the perfect tool to use in getting what you want. And I think we have a duty to increase the contribution to knowledge, to broaden and expand our horizons, for the sake of humanity. And to that end, Dr. Crane needs a patient to test his new toxin on, and since you're just sitting here waiting around with nothing to do, I've volunteered you. Think about it – you'll be contributing to collective scientific scholarship. It's a privilege and an honor, Ms. Gordon, it truly is. You should feel very lucky," he added, placing down an audio recorder on the table in front of her, and vacating the seat.
"We'll start her off small, and gradually increase the dosage," said Crane, taking the seat as he filled up syringes with orange liquid from a vial on his shoulder, and then attached them to his glove. "We don't want to break her mind too easily – work is not rewarding if there's no challenge, and indeed, not useful unless I can pinpoint the dosage that drives a relatively sane person into complete hysterical madness. Though admittedly, as it involves one of Batman's allies, relatively sane is probably not an apt description."
"Hang on a second, Dr. Crane," said J.J., grabbing his wrist. "Is this toxin safe for pregnant women to take? We don't want to hurt the baby."
"Judging by her size, the fetus won't have developed sufficient nerve endings to be affected by the toxin," replied Crane. "So even if it ingests it through her bloodstream, it should have no effect."
"Good," said J.J., nodding. "Couldn't live with myself if I hurt a baby. I mean, I'm not a monster."
"It's been a long time since I experimented on patients here, but I still remember how these audio recordings go," said Crane. "Patient notes: Gordon, Barbara. Session one. The patient is about to experience a 200 milliliter concentrated dose of fear toxin directly into her bloodstream, which will dissolve the barrier between her conscious mind and her suppressed, subconscious nightmares. Beginning test now – I'm sure you'll hear her screams very soon."
"Betcha wish you had taken a marshmallow now, huh?" giggled Harley, watching as Crane cupped Barbara's chin in his hand, and then injected the syringes straight into her neck.