A/N: Wow, almost seven pages exactly! (I'm short one line…) And I thought my chapters were long before… Anyways, this is pretty different from the others, because it's a major important one for plot (Finally, the Joker/Batman showdown!) and I don't think I've written any of the other chapters in present tense. I had a lot of trouble with verb continuity in this one, kept on going from past to present and back again… Some of it is still probably in there, but I did my best to change it all to present. Anyways, have fun reading. And please tell me if I completely massacred the Joker's character. I did my best, but it's so hard to write a good Joker and I can't tell if this one is even mediocre.
I leap off the rooftops, letting the anger course through my veins and the wind buffet my body from side to side. My heart speeds up, an automatic reaction to hurling myself off tall buildings. It energizes and refreshes me. So much has happened, so much is dragging me down, but when I become Batman I don't have to feel any of it. I don't have to worry about such things as moral dilemmas. I have a rule, and I have a goal. Simple, black and white. I don't allow myself to listen to feelings or care for any sort of friend.
Batman was my escape from the existence of Bruce Wayne, and it makes my heart ache to think I have to give it up. But I will make sacrifices, and I will live with the consequences of my actions. For now, though, I gather the heartache and the anger and the grief and everything that has been stewing since the press conference. Ducard's words come floating back to me. The will to act. I will take all those emotions broiling in me and put them to use. I will change it to pure, iron will to beat the Joker into submission.
I fling out my arms and activate my wings, the reckless dive now becoming a smooth albeit rushed descent. The only noise is the soft fluttering of my cape as it catches the air. I am silent, I am deadly. I am on the hunt for a maniac.
The rooftop looms closer, and I glide a few feet past the edge (experience learned from mistakes) before deactivating my wings and landing on the tar with a soft thump. I press my gloved hand to my right ear, and listen for Fox's voice. "Anything yet?" I speak in Batman's rough growl, a habit formed from many nights of such activity. One slip of the voice, and my secret would have been out. It doesn't matter now, but I don't try to fight habit. Fox's voice crackles in my ear. "Nothing yet, Bruce. But we'll get him."
The smallest smile forms on my lips. We'll get him. Alfred, and now more recently Fox, could keep me smiling in these dark times. They keep my head up, keep me from drowning in a spiraling pit of despair. Ever-encouraging, ever watchful, ever willing to lend a piece of advice or a story to make things seem just a bit better.
I stand on the roof, tune the radio in the ears of my cowl to pick up all frequencies, and start to skim the airways manually for some sign of the Joker. It is a far hope that the Joker would be ordering his posse around by a cell phone or radio, and an even less likely one that if he was, I would find him before my program did. But I listen despite such non-existent chances, because I need to do something. I can't just stand and wait for Fox to tell me when the program discovers the Joker. I have to be out, searching for him despite everything. It was what I have done, and it was what I will do.
"I told you, Ronald! I don't-"
"Hi, I'm looking for-"
"Did you hear what-"
"All units-"
"So I says to her-"
"Can you believe-"
"Copy that-"
I flip through the channels, but there is nothing. No hint of malice, no sinister instructions. The streets are quiet, most likely from the Joker's latest threat. I grit my teeth in anger when I remember his ultimatum. The Joker has to pay for what he did, and I can hardly do that if I can't find the monster. "Anything?" I growl, as I soar down from the roof.
I can almost hear the subtle frustration coloring Fox's words. "Nothing yet." The soft tapping of keys fills my ear. Apparently, I'm not the only one who can't sit still when there is work to be done. I activate the roof of my Tumbler and slide in, still monitoring the channels. Fox and I sit in silence, each absorbed in his work.
"Wait-" Suddenly, Fox interrupts my thoughts, and there is the quick tapping of keys, and another man's voice floods my ear. "-part of a social experiment..." My hands clutch the controls of the Tumbler, an involuntary reaction whenever I hear him talk. Even something as simple as his voice makes my instincts roar to life, screaming danger!
Fox's voice appears again, but the Joker's is still audible in the background, intimidating despite the lowered volume. "His voice in the ferry, but that's not the source…" Fox trails off
At midnight, I blow you all up.
More sound of clacking keys and then Fox speaks again. "I've got him!" His voice is calm and professional, like we were discussing some new business arrangement in one of Wayne Tower's meeting rooms, but it is layered with undertones of excitement and exuberance. "He's West, in an unoccupied building overlooking the river. I'm sending the location right now."
If, however, one of you presses the button I'll let that boat live.
The Tumbler's GPS flickers on, and I roar away to the West, my heartbeat increasing with adrenaline and a strange sense of finality. With Fox's information and Gotham's phones sending me constant images of the city, there is no way the Joker could hide again. Tonight was to be the last encounter, my instincts assure me. And I've leanred to trust my instincts.
I flip a switch and commanded the Tumbler to call Gordon's cell phone. He answers in a strained voice, and I don't waste any time letting him finish introducing himself."Gordon, I have the Joker's location…"
You choose! Oh, and you might want to decide quickly, because the people on the other boat may not be quite so noble...
The Tumbler completed a tight turn, and I jerk back into the seat as the wheels skid before screeching to a halt. The building is about a block ahead, the Joker inside. I'm itching to go now, to attack before anything can happen, but I have to meet Gordon on a building across the street. With the Joker, one could leave nothing to chance, so I had called him in, who in turn brought a fully-armed and ready to battle SWAT team.
It is strange, to think of him as the Commissioner when the last one was so against Batman. To have an ally in such a high position makes me feel that Gotham is more secure, taking the tiniest step towards rehabilitation. Dent was another step, a larger one that inspired others. I shake such thoughts away and focus on Gordon and his men, surveying the Joker's building.
The structure is brand new, some stickers still attached to the newly-installed windows. The floors are rough wood, supports and other building materials left in piles throughout the building. Huge windows cover the front, but they are dark. I can faintly see figures shifting behind them in the ambient light.
Gordon is talking strategy with the leader of the SWAT teams. I creep up behind them, and survey the scene. The shapes I had seen earlier are now the distinct outlines of people, guns in hand. They're lined up across the windows, a huddle of other outlines sitting in a group inside the loose circle they formed.
I frown as I look closer. Why didn't the men build a barrier with all the loose constructin materials strewn around? Standing as they are now, they would be easy picking for any half-decent sniper. The questions nag at the back of my brain, and Gordon is apparently feeling the same.
"It's a shooting gallery. Why'd he chose this place?" He trails off at the end of his question, and the SWAT leader looks up from his rifle scope. "We have clear shots on five clows, sir. Snipers take them out, smash the windows – a team rappels in, a team moves in by the stairwells. Two or three casualties max." His voice is calm and calculating, discussing the plan with an air of one who had done similar things many times before, and had trained even longer.
Gordon seems to consider the options, the strain apparent on his face. Should he attack with the aid of surprise, or move more carefully in case the Joker had planned something disastrous? He takes in a fortifying breath before giving a curt nod. "Let's do it."
The questions flickering in my mind raise to a cacophany of protests, and I interrupt before the other man could get on his radio. "It's not that simple. With the Joker, it never is." While the police had spent hundreds of manhours looking for the Joker, I was the one who had studied every morsel of information about him that I could. I was the one who had analyzed every scrap of evidence, who had thouroughly learnt every case. The information the police had were spread across some two-dozen CSI's, not to mention the patrolmen.
Gordon had whirled when he heard me, and his eyes narrowed. "What's simple is that every second we don't take him, those people on the ferries get closer to blowing each other up!" I can practically see the fear in Gordon's eyes, the terror that so many people will die if he does the wrong thing. And how could he do the right thing when he was up against an insane genius who had evaded capture for so long?
"That won't happen." I try to reassure him. I need the calm, collected Gordon who had helped me defeat Ra's, the one who could think and create a plan. I need the man I had chosen to help me accomplish my monumental task of cleaning up Gotham.
"Then he'll blow them both up!" He threw his arms up in despair. "There's no time- we have to go in now-"
"There's always a catch with him." I know there has to be something, some plan, but I cannot figure it out. It makes me crazy, the way he can tear my city from its foundations and throw it into chaos, and I still have no idea what motivates him. And that fear, that knowledge makes me dig in my feet and consider every possible outcome before acting. That fear was the same one that made Gordon rash and single-minded, trying so hard to do the right thing.
"That's why we can't wait, we can't play his games!" Gordon is right about that. If we play along, we simply give him more power, and put him in a better position to carry out his plans. My gaze drifts again to the Joker's men and the hostages they guarded. There's always a catch…
"Who are the hostages?" I ask, retaining the barest hope that maybe some of the people in the college escaped from the explosion.
Gordon sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "When we evacuated Gotham General, there was a busload of people missing." He winces. "We think we found them."
I quash my disappointment and impending guilt, and focus on the question at hand. Why would the Joker take the time to abduct a busload of sick people? There's always a catch… I set my shoulders and turn towards the building. "I need five minutes. Alone-"
"No," Gordon interrupts. "There's no time. We have clear shots."
I ignore him and advance towards the edge of the building. With five minutes, I will have enough time to figure out what exactly the Joker has up his sleeve and be able to relay it back to Gordon.
Behind me, the Commissioner curses and I hear the click of a safety being released. "There are innocent people in there with them. We have to save them! I have to save them!" I can hear the hysteria building, growing with every word. Gordon has kept his head through so much, and now he is finally cracking. I ignore him, praying he will listen to me, and leap off the roof. Five minutes, and I will be able to figure out what exactly the Joker has planned.
The building is dark, and I am only able to make out faint shapes in the darkness. I switch on my comm. "Fox, I need picture." He doesn't respond, but a second later two pieces of glass-like high technology sonar recievers slide down over the eyepieces of my mask. It takes a few moments, but then I am able to see the world in pulsating white smoke. I crack the glass window and slide in, making my movements as quiet as possible.
The room is quiet as I approach the Joker's men. They are still standing in a loose row, facing outward, guns in hand. The prisoners are huddled together in a group, all dressed in the pale scrubs of doctors. I ghost up towards one of the more isolated men, then used my grapple gun to swing myself out and knock him over. I drag him into the shadows, and tear off the mask. A distressed face looks up at me, his yells muffled by the duct tape secured across his mouth. His hands are bound in the same manner, a gun stuck between the immobile fingers.
For a minute the only thing I can do is stare at him in confusion. Why had the Joker disabled his own men? Why hadn't the hostages realized it and overthrown the men? There's always a catch… Slowly, the puzzle begins fitting together, each answer leading to the next in a convulted chain reaction. The only reason the Joker would kidnap a busload of hostages would be to use them as distrations, and what would be more distracting than successfully taking out the bad guys and being attacked by the very hostages you've been trying to save?
I whirl around towards the other men standing by the windows. This close, the duct tape holding the guns to unwilling hands is clearly visible even in the swirling world of sonar. At closer inspection, I can also make out the forms of guns clutched in the doctors's hands. Why hadn't I practiced with the sonar beforehand, and thus been able to distinguish such important details from the confusing constantly swirling picture? If only I'd had more time to fine-tune it!
"Bruce, a SWAT team's rappeling off the roof now. They're making their move." Fox's voice is calm and I curse in response, trying to ignore how odd it felt to be called Bruce when I was in my Batman gear. To me, revealing my true identity, although monumentally life-changing for Bruce Wayne, doesn't seem to have that great of an effect on my actions as Batman. I still wear my mask, still fly throught the streets as I always did. It is difficult remember that to everyone else, I'm now always Bruce Wane the playboy. I'm not just Batman, terror of the night anymore. The truth of my identity is not shocking to me, but it does have a huge influence on the people around me. To them, it would be like the Joker dressing up as a priest and marrying a loving couple.
"Don't move," I rasp at the clown-hostage. He fearfully nods, and I dash towards the other hostages lined up for the police force's best snipers. The distance is too far, so I swing my grapple gun up to aim at the foot of the furthest hostage. It hisses away with deadly accuracy, succesfully latching onto the man. He looks downard in confusion, and that's when I heave on the line with all my strength.
He falls, and then like dominoes the rest of them follow not a moment too soon. As the last one lands with a muffled yell of surprise, the windows shatter. The bullets whiz over the heads of their targets, and then there is no more time to watch as another SWAT team immediately rappels through the space that used to be filled with windows.
The next few moments are chaos, as the doctor-clowns start firing upon SWAT officers, and the officers don't know who to shoot. I simply start attacking anybody within my reach with a usable weapon. The last thing I need is a bloodbath, on either side. Eventually, though, the officers seem to realize which group were the hostages. Once they finally started focusing their efforts on the false doctors, I head towards the top of the building, and towards the Joker.
The first thing I hear on the top floor is the low growling of dogs. Then the Joker's voice, high and excited. "Go on, get him!" There's the clinking of chains, and two masses of black fur hurtle towards me. Not the dogs again! The animals barrel into me and I stagger back, nearly loosing my balance.
For some reason, fighting against dogs always makes me hesitant. Humans can choose whether to commit crime, but dogs just did as their masters trained them. Luckily, that pity always disappears after their teeth sunk into the spaces between my suit. I manage to fling one off and down the elevator shaft, but the other tenaciously hangs on as I tumble towards the ground. I hear the Joker giggling in the background, encouraging the dog.
His voice comes closer, and I roll to face him just as a metal pipe smashed into my side. I grunt, struggling to throw the dog off as the Joker viciously slams the pipe into my side again and again while his psychotic laughter reasonates through the building. That laughter… As strange as it is, his enjoyment makes me fight harder, determined to take every bit of enjoyment away from him. He has ruined my town, and he is going to pay with the only thing I can understand about him.
The next time the Joker swings the pipe, I reach out one hand and grasp onto the metal before it makes contact. I use it to yank myself to my feet, and hurl the second dog after its companion. The Joker uses that distraction to lift up his leg and deliver a crushing kick to my stomach. As I tumble backwards, I can't help but wonder at how much strength he had been able to put into that kick when he looks so scrawny and underfed.
I roll to get back to my feet, the quick movement proving to be too much for the sonar technology. It blacks out, then blinds me with a mosaic of bright colors swirling back and forth. I blink to re-orient myself to the lights, and when I open my eyes again, the Joker's face looms before me, another powerful kick hurtling at me.
This time I crash through a window, landing on my back and dangerously close to the edge. I take a moment to switch the sonar vision off – better to fight blind in a way I know than be distracted by the new technology. Unfortunately, that precious moment is all it takes for the Joker to leap after me and slam a thick metal bar down across my neck. Only quick reflexes and the reinforced armor on my forearm prevents it from being crushed.
He puts one of his leather dress shoes on the bar and crouches down on it, adding his weight to that of the bar. "Now, now, now," he scolds me like one would a young child. "If we don't stop fighting, we're gonna miss the fireworks!" His glee is accented by the high pitch of his voice, and the sickening way his scars twist upwards in the parody of a smile.
"There won't be any fireworks." I growl at him, just as the somewhere nearby a clock begins tolling.
One, two, three,
The Joker ignores me and focuses on the two farries, visible on the river below. His tongue darts out and wets his lips in excitement, and the clock keeps on tolling.
Four, five, six, seven,
None of the ships have blown up yet, and I let a small victorious smile adorn my face. "What were you trying to prove? That deep down, we're all as ugly as you?" He still ignores me, but the smile is just a little smaller, and his eyes are narrowed.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven,
The smile has definitely disappeared, and he's glaring at the farries. "You're alone," I taunt, trying to distract him while I figure out a way to escape from underneath the bar. If he would just stop putting his weight on it, I could push it up…
Twelve…
There is a barest pause as the last toll reverbrates through the silence, and then the Joker reaches into his pocket. His purple-gloved hand appears again, clutching a crudely made detonator. "Can't rely on anyone these days," he mutters, exasperated at the citizens of Gotham for not following his twisted 'experiment.' He pushes a button, and a light flares to life. His hand hovers over the key, the object that once turned will send two boatloads of my citizens sinking into the river in flaming bits. "Have to do everything yourself."
He looms over me, meeting my eyes with a strangely serious expression. "I always- always have- and it's not always easy." Something changes in his expression, and the taunting ghoul is back, a smile splitting his scars once again. "You know how I got these scars?"
My eyes flicker to the bar keeping me away from freedom, and land on my gauntlet. The idea hits me like a bolt of lightning and I act fast, silently thanking Fox for all the new features on my suit. I twist my second arm around to switch the release, talking to distract the Joker. "No, but I know how you got these!" the razor-sharp blades whirl out, sinking into the Joker with a satisfying thud.
He staggers back, and I quickly hurl the bar up and lunge after him. I whip my foot out and deliver a crushing kick of my own, snatching the remote out of his loosened grip. He staggers backwards, and disappears over the edge of the platform, a surprised burst of laughter hovering above as he plunges towards the ground.
I stand there motionless for a moment, thoughts whirling through my mind. Should I let him plummet to his death, or should I reach out for my grapple gun and save him? His laughter still remains, and I finally make up my mind. I lunge for the gun and lean over the edge, sending a life-saving line after the cackling murderer. I will not act like him, after having Gotham shown me how much it is willing to keep fighting, after lecturing Dent on how he must stay on the side of morally right.
The line snags one kicking foot, and I feel the sharp tug as he jerks to a stop. My feet slide slightly closer to the edge and my hands are shaking from exaustion, so I hurridly wrap the cable around one of the still-standing support beams. Then I summon the rest of my strength and pull, hand over hand, until the Joker is raised back up to the platform.
The Joker is swaying through the air, waving his hands, that twice-cursed grin still affixed to his face. He throws his arms to the side, giggling slightly at the cable twists and he beings to swing from side to side. The coattails of his purple suit flutter behind him in a twisted parody of wings.
"You-" he gasps through his laughter, "You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness… and I won't kill you because you're too much fun! I think we're going to be doing this forever."
I can't help but shiver at his words, because it's frightening to think of such a possibility. To chase after the Joker for the rest of my life on his merry rampages, destroying my city and the spirit of the people in it, constantly facing such insurmountable stress. It was the epitome of a nightmare. But that wouldn't happen, ever. No sane person would allow such a monster to walk free. "You'll be in a padded cell forever," I respond. "This city just showed you it's full of people ready to believe in good."
My words are supposed to take the fight out of him, to make him despair that his real plan, whatever it is, will never happen. Instead, his smile becomes impossibly wider and his laughter gives way to a satisfied hum. "Hmmm, hmm… Till their spirit breaks complete-ah-ly. Until they find out what I did with the best of them. Then those criminals will be straight back onto the streets and Gotham will understand the true nature of heroism."
The best of them… A pit forms in my stomach. Who else could be the best of Gotham besides their savior, Harvey Dent? Despite what I thought was an inscruitable expression, the Joker seems to be able to read my understanding and sudden despair.
"You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for the soul of Gotham in a fist fight with you? You've got to have an 'ace in the hole'" He dralws the last bit, like he's quoting someone so utterly boring but important. Then, he smiles and continues on in a lighter tone, "Mine's Harvey."
I wrap my hand around his arm and pulled him closer. "What did you do!" My question comes out as a command, and a rush of adrenaline flows through my previously fatigued body. Harvey Dent is my hope for the future, not only Gotham's. And I will not loose this chance for Batman to turn his city over to heroes with a face, or in this late stage to any hero at all.
He wriggles in my grasp. "You know, for a while, I thought you were Dent. The way you-"
I give his arm a sharp tug and level my fiercest glare at him. "Where is he?" I growl. He seems completely unafraid and clears his throat, like it is a simple business proposal he is talking about. "Ah, yes, of course. We only have minutes left. So here's my little game – if you want to save one of them."
For a minute, his word choice didn't register. Then it hits me like a metaphorical slap in the face. "'One' of them?" I pull back a fist to force him to spill whatever plot he has, and he holds up one hand, waving the fingers around.
"Ah, ah, ah! You have to hear the rules first." I pause, fist poised, and he continues. "You see, I'm going to tell you where they are. Both of them – and that's the point. Your friend, the District Attourney, or his blushing bride-to-be." His tone goes sickly sweet on the last part, like the thought of love and marriage disgusts him. But he's also looking like that cat that got the canary, and t's almost as if he can taste my fear. His tongue darts out to wet his painted lips, and I can imagine him as a giant lizard, scouring the earth for a perfect meal of death and destruction.
"He's at 250 52nd Boulevard. And she's..." He paused for a moment, looking up before continuing. "on Avenue X at Cicero."
I push the Joker away and sprint for the other end of the roof, ignoring the monster behind me that has dissolved into hysterical laughter. Rachel's only a few blocks away, and I activate my voice link with Fox once again. "Fox," I say as I crash though the window on the opposite side of the building, "I need you to link me to-" I stop talking as I hear a loud rumbling.
I know what I'm going to see before I turn, but I force myself to anyways. My wooden legs turn to the right and take me forwards to the edge of the platform. There, a mere four blocks away, an old warehouse is blazing. Flaming debris is falling down, and the tongues of fire leap ever higher into the air. I feel like I should be hearing screams, cries of dismay, the fire itself eating through the wood, but everything is silent.
It's an almost impossible hope, but again I force myself to actually see the results. I throw myself off the roof, activate the wings, and wheel to the left, until my view isn't blocked by the building I'd just been in. There, further away, smoke is rising from a blazing inferno. I can't tell the street names, but it doesn't matter. I already know what buildings the Joker has blown up. 250 52nd Boulevard, and Avenue X at Cicero.
In the background, Fox is still speaking. "Bruce? Bruce, are you there? Can you hear me? What's happen-" I flip of the link and glide aimlessly down into the heart of my city. I had saved my city, but two of the most important people are dead. I sink into the grime of inner-city Gotham, trying to figure out whether I had failed or succeeded. I mourn and wonder - if I had done something different, if I had just weathered it through as Alfred had said instead of turning myself in, would I have been able to save them? Would it have ended any other way?
A/N: Done! So, tell me how you thought this turned out. And do you think I should add a little epilogue or just leave it as it is? Also, I have a poll going on to see which genre I should word on next, and It'd be great if you guys could vote :)