A/N: First of all, I'm really sorry about not getting this chapter up. I had a busy couple of days, and the Joker makes an appearence. I don't think I've ever appreciated how insanely difficult it is to write the Joker. Seriously, he only has a few lines and I don't think I did it very well. So I have realized a very important thing - The Joker will most likely not have his own chapter, because it would take an insanely large amount of time and it would probably turn out terrible. And wow, I've actually decided to add a plot to this story! Next chapter should be from the POV of a prisoner. As always, please R&R or tell me if I have some sort of error in my writing. :) I don't really know a lot about the television industry, so if you know anything about it and I screw something up terribly, please tell me.
Mike Engel was a canon character, but I don't think they gave us anything about them, so I guess you could say he's more like an OC with a canon name. Alright, sorry about this really long Author's Note, and on with the story!
GCN headquarters was bustling with the pre-show setup. People hurried past each other, each intent on doing a last-minute check before we aired. I weaved my way through the mess with the ease of one that's been through the drill a thousand times.
Mike was not in his room or familiarizing himself with the topics to be covered today, so I checked the makeup room. Sure enough, he was fidgeting and chatting a mile a minute as a specialist made some last-minute fixes to his makeup.
"Hey Mike!" I shouted.
He paused in his energetic telling of his daughter's role in the school play, and smiled at my reflection in the mirror. The makeup artist looked relieved.
"We're on in ten!"
Mike brought his watch up to eye level. "Oh, sh- gotta go, sorry!" He nearly catapulted out of the seat, but I called him back before he could get out of the door.
"Forget something?"
"No, why-"
I held up his suit jacket. He grinned at me, embarrassed. "Thanks"
He shrugged it on, and we both headed for the set. "So, who is this guy I'm supposed to be interviewing again?" Mike was never one for details.
I rolled my eyes. "Coleman Reese." I had seen the man when they were prepping him, and I couldn't think of anyone else more greedy and narcissistic. He was practically putting on airs, claiming he knew who the Batman was before the press conference.
"He worked for Wayne Industries."
"Aw, another one? It's just been news about the Batman for the last week!"
I shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal."
He sighed. "Yeah, I know." We walked through the open doorway and said our goodbyes. Mike went to his seat, and I went to skulk in a corner until I was needed again.
"Going live in five, four, three-" The camera man held up two fingers, then one, and pointed at the anchors. The theme song started, and the newsmen shuffled their papers, smiling at the camera. The paper shuffling always confused me.
Reese's interview came near the end of the program. He swaggered out, resembling an overstuffed peacock rather than a competent auditor. Mike's smile, which had been somewhat genuine, shrank as the interview went on.
"Yes, of course I knew who the Batman was. He was using company money to fund his vigilante activities, and covering it up rather sloppily if I do say so. When I discovered this, I of course demanded he turn himself in." Oh God, Reese was literally puffing up.
Mike's wasn't even trying to smile now. He simply stared at Reese, and glared. He considered Batman to be an idol, a hero who deserved to be thanked and not put behind bars. Hearing Reese paint him as a cruel boss and accusing him of stealing funds made his temper rise.
"So, out of the goodness of your own heart, you simply asked Mr. Wayne to turn himself in? Just like that?" Uh-oh. Mike wasn't following the prompt board.
Reese tried to nod while keeping his chin high in the air. The awkward head-bob that he did just added to the peacock look.
"Are you sure you didn't ask him for something? Maybe a little incentive to keep your mouth shut?"
Reese's eyes widened with shock, and his mouth formed a little 'o' shape. He looked completely gobsmacked, and I snickered. I thought people only reacted like that in the movies. "Well, I would never – how dare y- course not – its prepost- That's not true!"
I shook my head. Mike Engel strikes again, with the uncanny ability to guess people's darkest secrets. He was leaning towards Reese now, grinning like a shark.
"Oh, you did? How much did you want? Five million? Ten? Tell us, Mr. Reese, exactly how much you tried to get from blackmailing the Batman."
Reese deflated like a balloon and crossed his arms. "I didn't blackmail him." Now he sounded like a petulant child.
"Don't lie to us, Mr. Reese." Mike glanced at the prompt screen, and smiled. "Why don't we let our viewers call in, and give us their opinions on Mr. Reese's behavior."
I looked at the prompt screen. Mike was supposed to have invited people to call and share their opinions on Batman, but nobody was complaining. Reese trying to blackmail Batman was much more interesting to chat about.
It was only a few seconds before the phone started ringing. Mike picked it up and switched it to speakerphone.
"You know," the caller said with a rush of noise that had to have been a sigh, "I uh-I had a vision of a world without Batman." The voice on the other end of the phone was high but unmistakably male.
"The mob ground out a little profit and the police tried to shut them down block… by… block." The voice clicked his tongue every time at the end of block. "And it was so boring" He ended in a low growl, then started to giggle. It was a strange falsetto sound that sent chills down my spine. It wasn't… I gaped at the phone in horror, but I was too afraid to run forward and hang it up.
"I've decided that uh- I don't really like Gotham without Batman." There it was again, that strange little emphasis on the beginning of Batman. "Gotham is so predictable without him!" His voice rose, and the tone was like one telling a great joke.
"I want Bruce Wayne freed and uh- this Coleman Reese dead in sixty minutes or else I blow up a hospital." The Joker's voice was happy as he spoke, as if he wasn't basically holding a hospital ransom and ordering someone killed. "I don't like squealers."
For the first time, the Joker sounded like the murdering psychopath he was. His voice dropped down, changing into a gravelly rasp. He sounded like someone who had been smoking for all their lives.
Reese's eyes widened and he stared at the phone in fear. For the first time, I felt sorry for him. There were people in Gotham who would do what the Joker demanded, if only to try and placate him before he blew something important up. Like, say, a hospital.
The Joker wheezed, and at first I thought he was coughing. The wheezing turned into high pitched hysterical laughter, before he slammed down the phone.
The dial tone sounded, and for a minute everyone in the studio just stood in a dazed stupor. Mike was the first to move. He tore the tiny microphone out of his ear and stood up, sending the chair clattering behind him. The noise spurred everyone into moving again, and in less than a second a panicked babble filled the room.
Reese was sitting there, practically hyperventilating. Mike grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door, shouting instructions all the way. "I want you to call everyone- the Commissioner, Gordon, Dent, whoever! We are getting him out of this building!"
I couldn't tell if Mike wanted Reese gone because a lot of people were going to storm the building and no doubt ruin expensive equipment while trying to find him, or if he wanted Reese to be safe in a more secure location.
When Mike and Reese disappeared through the doorway, I finally forced myself into action. I scurried through the crowd, looking for Mike. He could always use help, and I honestly had no idea what to do otherwise. Following him was a lot better than joining the panicked mob, anyway.