Gotham Archives

2. Caught But Not Captured

"A preview. It mean anything to you, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce shook his head, studying the message. "I can't say it does. I'm sorry, Commissioner."

Another CSI held up a can of paint found behind the desk. "Cerulean Blue. My wife and I just painted our kitchen this color."

Bullock scoffed. "Betcha gonna rethink that now, huh?"

Montoya rolled her eyes.

Bruce and Gordon just continued staring at the message on the wall. Cerulean Blue had never looked so sinister.

Daniel Chao was not a big fan of his job. But being a nurse at Arkham Asylum was about the best job a psychiatry student could get in Gotham. His friends who weren't from the area thought his job sounded awesome. Imagine, being around the glorious criminals of Gotham City! They thought he should be in heaven, conversing and seeing such famous and interesting subjects. Daniel had felt that way too, until he realized the horror within Arkham…until The Joker nearly carved his face off for a laugh…until Scarecrow became obsessed with finding his deepest fear…until Harley Quinn took it upon herself to make sure every patient in Arkham called him Danny Boy.

In a nutshell, he was most certainly not looking forward to The Joker his lunch. Due to some violent activity involving water balloons, a screwdriver, and a now hospitalized guard, the clown prince of crime was officially confined to his cell until further notice. But still, he had to eat. This conclusion was beyond Daniel, but that was how most things were at Arkham. He finally got to the maximum-security section and sighed as he approached the room dreaded by every employee.

The two guards posted in this hallway both nodded grimly at Daniel. They looked sympathetic, but this did little to comfort him. At least they had guns; all he got was a freaking tazor. He braced himself as he slid the key card through the space every door there had. Here goes nothing…

"And how are we today, Danny Boy?" asked the grinning maniac gleefully. His plastered-on smile seemed especially big that day.

"Fine," he mumbled as he closed the door behind him. He began to set out The Joker's meal on the rolling cart he brought along.

"You don't sound fine. You sound downright depressed. Why so blue? A death in the family, perhaps? Or you found out you have a flesh-eating disease that will kill you before you even turn thirty? Or maybe you've finally realized how blatantly pathetic and meaningless your life is and you've decided to drown yourself in the river tonight. If so, I must commend you. It's good to have self-awareness."

He broke into hysterics at this point and rocked back and forth on his bed. He might have slapped his knee were it not for the straight jacket.

Daniel remained quiet. It was about time to remove his binds, the worst part since you never knew if it'd be the last thing you do. The Joker finally stilled and beamed up at him. After removing the straight jacket, the patient would eat, put it back on, and allow the nurse to leave in peace.

The Joker ate savagely sometimes, slowly others. It depended how much he wanted to torment his chaperone. Today he was eating slowly.

"So," he said in a mock-business tone. "Have you heard about the tragic death at Wayne Enterprises? I heard some poor chap got a splitting headache. HeehahaHAhaHaheeHEEhaHAha! Get it? 'Cause he got a bullet to the head! That's called a pun, Danny. You really should learn your comedic terminology."

Daniel was trying extremely hard to keep calm. Why couldn't one of the professionals feed this freak? He took a deep breath. He was fine, no need to worry. He'd be out soon enough and then the nut job could talk about death with the guards.

"I heard there were some weird things about the whole thing. They found paint on the walls. Surprised they could find anything. There must have been loads of blood. Buckets upon buckets. That's what happens you know. Now you know I usually prefer a knife or some agonizing poison to spread joy, but when I do shoot someone, I like it to be close-range. Then the CSI has to deal with the brain matter. It puts a smile on my face to know that I get to show these crime scene cleaners what's really on a person's mind. 'Cause they don't get it. They think the person didn't suffer…but then again, most of them are idiots. You see, my victims do suffer. A great deal. You see it in their face; the last second they still have a face anyway. They know their head's about to be blown to bits. That knowledge drives them crazy. So, in a way, we're all the same in our last moment. We're all insane."

Daniel went into the hallway and vomited. He hated his job.

Batman scanned the area around Wayne Enterprises. He wanted to be ready if Rivet's killer came back. He was sure it was a murder. Nothing about it added up. He hadn't bothered telling the cops that they had security cameras in the hall and Rivet's office. He planned on looking them over on his own.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stay there all night. Other vicious crimes would be going on in other parts of Gotham. Batman spread his cape and dove off his post, soaring towards the eastern side of town. He stopped a mugging with a simple look and was able stop two thieves from escaping the jewelry store they had just hit. He had just decided to go back to the Narrows, when he heard the distant alarm of Gotham Bank.

It took longer getting around without the Batmobile, but criminals had been quiet the last few days. So it took a little longer getting to the bank than Bruce would have liked. When he got there, however, the robber was just leaving the bank. Robber: singular.

He was an average-sized man with light brown hair and strangely shadowed eyes. He grinned smugly when Batman landed in front of him.

There's something seriously wrong here, Bruce thought. He doesn't have a gun, henchmen, not even a mask. Either he's incredibly arrogant or he's got something up his sleeve.

"Hello," the man said calmly. "Bat something-or-other, isn't it?"

"You want to put down that money and explain what exactly you're doing here?"

"I heard you were dense, Batman, but this is worse than I expected. I thought it was perfectly clear that what exactly I'm doing here is robbing a bank."

"That's not going to happen. Put down the money and lay face-down on the ground."

"Hmm…let me think that over…"

He started to run, but the Caped Crusader caught him easily. He dropped the moneybags and Batman lifted him off the ground by his shoulders.

"Batman," the robber said. "Batman, I need you to do me a favor. Put me down. Let me go and don't come after me. You don't need to catch me. You can take a break, Batman. You've been working too hard. Let me go."

And Batman…did just that. He set the man down, who then picked up the money and went on his way.

"Oh, and by the way," said the man, looking back. "The name's Pusher."

A police peeled down the road and screeched to halt in front of the bank. Bullock and Montoya jumped out and ran up to Batman. Pusher was already out of sight.

"Batman," Montoya began, but Bullock cut her off.

"Did you just let a bank robber get away? What's your problem? He was half your size and we were right down the street!"

He stopped when he noticed that Batman was completely unfocused, shoulders slumped and face downcast.

"Hey, what's up? What are you doing?"
The superhero finally looked up and answered with blank, expressionless eyes.

"Taking a break."

Author's Note: So, getting into some action! A bit shorter chap, though...I stole the "Bat something-or-other, isn't it" line from The Riddler on the Batman: The Animated Series episode If Your So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich? I hope everyone likes this story! Does anyone think The Joker is too dark in this? I tried to add some sick humor, but I'm not sure how it turned out. Feedback is HIGHLY appreciated! Don't just put it on favorites or alert, please review!