Chapter 24: Heading Home...?
[Jeanette's POV:]
I was an emotional wreck, putting things simply. I had not cried in public for years prior, not even when Dad had left. But I was unable to help myself there, in that little diner. Thankfully, the managers seemed to realize Michelle and I were having a rather tearful reunion, and were willing to excuse her for a little longer in order to talk with me some more, and escort me out. Truth to tell, I had missed my sister and her sweet quirkiness. I spoke with her some more about Lancelot Pendragon—though I had to be careful to avoid certain details and I did have to fabricate the "boat-outing story" somewhat—and with all of her usual charm, she kept asking all the embarrassing questions that made me squirm. And this persisted up to the moment she walked me outside.
"So when are you going to make a move on Mister Pendragon, Jen?"
"I beg your pardon!" I gasped, scandalized. "Ladies do not 'make moves!'"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course not." She said, in a way that told me she wasn't the least convinced. "But in all seriousness Jeanette, don't let him get away from you. He really does sound like a gem."
I couldn't bring myself to say anything to that. I'm not sure I would have enjoyed seeing my sister react to me telling her that Lance made my heart beat faster, that he caused me to have strangely romantic thoughts, or that I was worried over the possibility of losing his friendship after what had transpired on Dorian's island. Right then, those thoughts frightened even me.
"I'll do my best not to scare him off, Michelle." I replied with a sigh, pulling my jacket on tighter. She smiled at me, then seized the bottle of body spray and started spritzing me with it again.
"Hold still, sis!"
"Knock it off already!" I protested, trying to shield my face. "Are you trying to blind me?"
"I'm giving you THE EDGE!" She said with a dramatic flourish. "Trust me, this stuff will save your butt! Pendragon will be falling all over you."
Yes, when the aroma knocks him out. I thought.
"Somehow, I question that." I coughed at her.
"Stop being a doubting Thomas!" She scolded. "Just accept the gift already! You're always so stubborn."
"Thank you, Michelle." I said with a sigh and a weary smile, taking the body spray back. She smiled and hugged me without warning, something alien and yet comforting all at once. Shakily, I hugged her back for a brief moment, and when she pulled away, her eyes shone like she was about to cry again.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said with a nod, "I'm fine. Just happy to be talking to you again. Go on, Jen. We can catch up some more later."
After a somewhat teary goodbye, we parted ways, and I was left to begin walking through Gotham alone. My mind started to wander, as it always did, and I allowed it to entertain me a while with thoughts of possible ways Michelle and I could begin reconnecting. From there, my mind began slipping to thoughts of Lancelot Pendragon and what Friday night may be like. Normally, I would have tried to stop myself from getting my hopes up too high, but I didn't bother this time. Something about talking with my sister had me feeling like anything was possible, and that I had no cause to fret over the small details.
But my daydreaming was to be short-lived.
As I walked, the sky darkened, far more than it should have. I glanced up with a frown; Rain had not been in the forecast. Furthermore, the sky looked a dark red, and that worried me. What in the world was going on? I glanced around, looking for an electronics store. They always had televisions on in their windows. One of them had to have the news on.
Thankfully, I was in luck. I had just walked a block when I spotted one such store. All of the televisions were switched to the news, and several people were crowded around already, but I managed to squeeze in regardless. Unsurprisingly, Vicki Vale was on the scene, though it was somewhere in the city I didn't recognize.
"Reports state that Chief Angel Rojas was found dead early this morning, with several injuries indicating he had been murdered by someone exceptionally skilled with a knife." She said in a worried tone. "Chief Rojas's body was delivered to the Gotham police headquarters, where detectives are still trying to identify the killer. Commissioner Gordon had this to say—"
The screen switched to a shaky camera angle, focused on the harried head of the police department. Gordon's eyes flashed behind his glasses as he walked, leaning as far away from the mics encroaching on his personal space as he could.
"No comment!" He said sharply. "Yes, the department mourns the loss of an officer, but no further comment. No comment!"
A chill ran down my spine. Rojas, dead? Somehow that seemed impossible. Sure, I was far from fond of the man, but I had seen him alive not weeks ago! I nearly assaulted him, in fact, thanks to his coarse rudeness during the police investigation of Joker's attack on the library. But to hear he was dead, that he had been murdered by some madman with a knife? It felt wrong.
"Worry sweeps through Gotham with this news," Vicki Vale returned on-screen, looking somewhat uneasy, "Especially in light of the recent break-out at Arkham. Did Victor Zsasz escape with Joker and the rest of the missing criminals? Why is Professor Hugo Strange not answering any questions at this moment in time? Is Gotham facing its greatest danger yet? I'm Vicki Vale, Gotham, and Channel 3 News will return right after this."
For all appearances, Vicki should have gone to a commercial break. But she had barely finished speaking before the camera focused on her suddenly jerked wildly, as though the cameraman had just decided to throw it into the air. There was a sharp gasp from Vicki off-screen, and then all the televisions crackled with static. My blood ran cold as the Channel 3 News suddenly showed multi-colored bars and the words "TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES," and I realized a tense silence had fallen over the small crowd. I sucked in a breath, hoping these people had enough sense not to break into a hysterical mass panic.
"It's probably nothing." One of the men said. "These things have technical difficulties all the time."
"But what was all that business with the camera and her screaming?" Someone else in the crowd challenged.
"She didn't scream!" Somebody next to me retorted. "She just gasped. Are you retarded?"
Carefully, I started to back away. THAT was going to get ugly fast, and I wanted no part of it. What was going on at Arkham? Why had all those criminals escaped? What were the police doing to contain it all?
As I stepped away, questions in my mind, I was suddenly hit with a horrifying realization.
The Joker was loose in the city again.
I turned and headed for the nearest bus stop I could find. My heart was pounding and my mind was rapidly turning into a whirlwind of terror and half-formed thoughts.
The Joker was loose in the city.
He held a grudge against me.
No matter what reasons he had for escaping, he was not about to forget the way I had defied him and hit him—twice—with a book. Which meant I was sure to be a target for any plot of his devising. And that could only end one way.
I waited at the bus stop, hoping the next bus would get there soon, twirling a lock of hair from my ponytail around my finger and chewing my lip. I had to get home, to be safe. Joker didn't know where I lived, after all. And what were the chances he would find out right away? Pretty slim, if I got to the townhouse safely and camped out there for a while without venturing outside. But he was sure to find out eventually, and then he would hunt me down. I had to have a good contingency plan to fall back on.
Perhaps I could seek refuge with Lance. My thoughts wandered a moment. After all, doesn't he have more than one home at his disposal?
But that was sure to be wishful thinking. Not to mention, I didn't want to make Lance a target, either. Werewolf or not, he was still wealthy, and all of his money and valuables would provide a temptation for anyone. Joker especially, as he had no qualms about killing and he probably could steal all Lance had to offer with ease. No, I was not going to endanger him if I could avoid it.
Maybe Jesse would help me out.
I shook my head slowly, even as I thought of it. No, knowing my cousin, however good-hearted he was, his unsavory connections meant he was most likely going to bring me more trouble. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he were involved in all the business going on at Arkham. He had a knack for getting drawn into trouble like that, as though he was being yanked around by magnets. Not to mention, his bizarre relationship with Spellbinder also had to be considered. Even if my cousin could offer me protection from Joker, he would have difficulty protecting me from his associate at the same time. Spellbinder did not seem inclined to violence, but...
I shook my head again, vigorously this time. What in the world was going on? What was happening to me? I was starting to think and act like I suffered from chronic paranoia.
Who knows? Perhaps I do.
It was both a frightening and sobering thought. My mind started to empty, and I focused on steadying my breathing. The bus would be here soon, and once it arrived, I would be on my way home, where I could better clear my mind and try to think of a back-up plan. Getting worked up at this point would do me little good.
Minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, and the city grew darker as night began to descend. At some point, the light above the bus stop came on and I jumped, nearly shrieking. Every shadow loomed threateningly, every sound was magnified and echoed in my ears, and the air grew cold as the wind hissed down the streets.
"I'm losing it." I said to myself, my voice high and trembling. "I'm losing it. Come on, Jeanette, k-keep it together. You're letting your imagination get the better of you because of what you've heard. Th-this is no different from when I used to read horror stories in bed at night as a little girl."
Except it is. A nasty voice in my head argued, sounding not unlike the green-haired girl I had seen at Arkham that one day. Those were books. This time, the killer from the stories is out there for real, and he's going to come after me before too long.
I hugged my arms tightly against the bite of the wind. There had to be something I could do, something I hadn't yet thought of. Sirens started up in the distance, faint on the wind. I straightened where I sat.
I could always go ask the police to help, I thought. But they regularly have difficulty with the Joker as it is. And he was easily able to kidnap Mayor Grange when he pulled that JTV nonsense. The police could protect me, but only for so long.
I started to despair, when another thought occurred to me.
Batman!
Why hadn't I realized it before?! The answer was obvious! Batman would be able to protect me if Joker came after me.
Except I did not depart on the best of terms with him when we last encountered each other. That nasty little voice reminded me. I sank slightly in my guilt. Batman would probably not be pleased with me seeking his help after I had ridiculed and slapped him, and I could not honestly blame him for that. But surely he would at least help, because it was the right thing to do?
The bus finally pulled up next to the stop, hissing as its doors opened. I got to my feet and boarded, relieved.
"Now all I need to do," I whispered to myself as I took a seat and the bus started to roll forward again, "Is find a way to contact Batman."
Once again, my mind went back to the police. Didn't Commissioner Gordon have some modified searchlight he lit up whenever he was signaling Batman?
"Ha! A Bat-signal!" I murmured, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
Wait a moment! My laughter died in my throat as the wheels in my head kept turning. That could work. I could contact the police, ask to speak with Commissioner Gordon. He could get in touch with Batman for me!
"Are you okay, miss?" A gentle voice asked. I glanced up to see a woman maybe a handful of years younger than I looking across the aisle at me. She was pale and thin, with long, wispy, light brown hair, and wide, staring green eyes ringed with dark shadows. A second later, I realized she was the only other passenger on the bus, save for two large men in matching hats and trench coats that were sitting in the very back. A shudder crept down my spine.
I feel like I've just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone, thanks for asking. My thoughts replied waspishly.
"I-I'm well, thank you," I answered, vaguely puzzled, before turning to address the bus driver, "I'd like to go downtown to the Gotham City Police Department, please."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am." The driver called back to me. Something about his voice mixed with the atmosphere of this bus made my skin crawl.
"Oh?" I asked, my voice going a bit higher as I stood up out of my seat. "Why is that? Is something wrong? If I didn't pay the right fare—"
"Oh, no," he cut me off, "You paid the right fare alright...bookworm."
My jaw went slack as he turned and looked over his shoulder, ripping off the rubber false-face he'd been wearing. Blood turned to ice in my veins. I would know that hook-nosed, death-white face anywhere.
"You?!" I shrieked, and a gigantic hand clamped over my mouth. A second later, I was yanked off my feet by the two men in the back. Joker's goons he had with him from his attempt on the library! How had I not recognized them before?
"You've got a one-way ride to crazy town, librarian!" Joker cackled as he slammed on the acceleration. "Better fasten that seat belt!"