15

Jack didn't as much as twitch when Alfred and Jasmine arrived in the underground storage area. He was completely concentrated on the wires he was connecting under a magnifying glass. His face was clean for once, and he was dressed all in black.

It was a pity, she thought, that he couldn't dress that way more often. He looked almost normal.

Jasmine went to the fridge, pulled out the iced tea pitcher and began fixing herself a glass. Alfred started heating some water, and she began to wonder if it were a reflex of his to make hot beverages. She further wondered if the dinks predicted a mood, but then realized it was his mentality to simply look after anyone who happened to be around him. If you liked coffee, you would have coffee. If you enjoyed soda pop, you would get soda pop.

In Jasmine's case, he had to read the situation and do the best he could. Looking back, she could honestly say that she had no complaints.

Jack's cell buzzed, and he looked at the screen. Suddenly, he jumped up and tore to the bathroom. When he came out, he was wearing full Joker attire.

"I called the bat-boy. Said to bring you along, Jazzy."

With a regretful glance at Alfred and her iced tea, she checked her guns and followed the man out of the building as he began explaining an intricate and totally asinine plan.

Apparently, Chris Napier had settled on a surprise party for a local bank. Jack crouched behind a dumpster, frowning through his eyebrows.

"I'll call when the time comes. Go find your dad, he's with batsy someplace. And don't," He grabbed her arm warningly, "don't tell him I'm here yet. He's already had a loooooonnnng daaaaaaaaaaay."

Nodding, she took off, waving her badge at the officers holding back thrill seekers. Just inside the police line, she saw her dad, looking up at the building his craggy face set in firm lines. It was the look he had given her when she'd disobeyed him growing up, and anything that followed it was never pleasant.

"Dad, where's Bruce?"

"He's on his cell phone, arranging some help for us." He glanced around. "Who gave you a lift, princess?"

She was studying the bank doors, spinning her own phone through her fingers. "An associate of Wayne's."

He grunted. "I've been learning about quite a few of his 'associates' today."

Before she could ask what he meant, Gordon trotted up, wearing a protective vest. "Richards, go to the truck and get some gear on. I don't need people dead through negligence."

Obediently, she and her father went to the truck and put on the dragonskin lined vests and pants. Brian eyed the various groups and shook his head. "This whole thing is turning into a regular hornets' nest. Have you seen this Joker guy?"

"Several times. He tried to blow up the Wayne building."

"That reminds me, what is your job over there exactly?"

She blinked a couple of times. "Really, you want to know now?"

"Good point."

They rejoined Gordon and Jasmine held her phone tightly. She twitched when it buzzed and waited for Jack to speak.

"Ooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy, let's roll. Got your toys?"

"Yep."

"Give it a sec, and I'll clear the way."

She hung up, ignoring Gordon's puzzled gaze. A few minutes passed, and his phone rang. He listened, his face growing darker each moment. Tilting the receiver away, he said, "It's the Joker, he wants you and your dad to go in. Says to follow the main stairs, he'll meet you at the top. Richards, I don't like it."

She shrugged. "It's okay." Pulling out her guns, she checked to be sure her clips were full, and stuck two extra clips in for each. Sliding her knife free of her boot, she put in her belt and draped her shirt over it. Her father was doing the same with his matched set of military issue semi-autos.

Gordon handed them each a couple of smoke bombs, and watched grudgingly as they entered the bank.

Whatever Chris had intended, he had clearly finished with there. Dirt hung in the air, doors hung off of singed hinges. Some bodies were stacked along the desk. Clearly any survivors had been moved out of sight. Brian and Jasmine held their weapons low against their sides and took turns clearing the nooks along the way to the stairs. As they climbed, they could hear every sound the building made, but nothing human.

On the second floor landing, windows had been broken out, furniture and wall hangings shredded. They kept climbing.

On the top floor, the fifth, there was nothing but the mess. Brian relaxed a little, but kept his gun out. Jasmine nudged a paperweight with her toe.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she stifled a scream, ramming her Berretta into the neck of the stranger, ready to pull the trigger.

"Whoa, hold it beautiful, it's me."

"Doggone it, Jack, you are seriously about to get shot just for annoying me!"

Brian had his own firearm leveled, and a smoke bomb out, his thumb under the pin. Jasmine waved him off. "It's just the decoy, Dad."

"Oh, 'Just the decoy.' Thanks a lot!" Jack huffed, slouching into a splay legged crouch and tracing smiley faces in the debris on the floor.

"So, where's Chris?" She asked, hoping her dad wouldn't come unglued when he understood who was under the make-up.

"He cleared out early this time. The survivors are in the alley, none with bombs attached. He was board today, I guess. You can let Gordon know the building's clean." He went to the nearest window, climbed up to the frame and waved dramatically. "Seeeee yoooouu later!"

Brian started forward as he vanished, but realized he couldn't stop it. Jasmine holstered her weapons.

"He'll catch up with us, let's go."