CHAPTER IV

When the Red Hood closed the door, I ran up to it and kicked it several times. It was no use. Eventually, I heard demonic laughter emanating from behind the door. There was green gas coming from the chimneys. I yelled, "Hood, what's happening?!" The laughter had stopped by then, and no answer came. I didn't have time to get the door open, however, because I heard sirens coming. When I got back to Wayne Manor, Alfred ran up to me. "Master Wayne, are you all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I don't know about the Red Hood, though."

The following day, the Red Hood was in Arkham. I was watching the news when I heard. Camera footage of the Red Hood being led into Arkham was shown. I'd never seen him without the mask before that. He had a thin face, a hawkish nose, and short brown hair. But there was one element that I know wasn't there when I first met him. He had a creepy smile on the entire time he was being escorted inside.

The news anchor began speaking about how the investigation into his real name, among other things, was deemed futile. There was literally nothing in any database about any part of the man's life. No name, no dental records, no driver's license. The anchor continued, saying that his behavior was more aggressive and erratic, meaning no one could tell what he would do next.

When he was assigned a cell, he happened to get Mr. Zsasz, a killer who cut tally marks into his own skin when he claimed another victim, as a cellmate. Apparently, the Red Hood introduced himself as the Joker, shook Zsasz's hand…and then he proceeded to kick him in the leg repeatedly, breaking it, after which he said, "And don't you forget it."

The subject of the Joker bothered me, so I decided to go back to where he began. When I reached the chemical plant, I noticed that there wasn't any gas coming from the chimneys like the night before. I went inside. I found the whole building to have literally nothing inside it. I mean, there was definitely dust, but beyond that, everything, every scrap that the police didn't pick up for evidence (which was about 99% of the place), was gone.

Also, when I got home the night before, I looked it up, and Augere, Inc. actually seemed to check out. The plant where I chased the Red Hood wasn't listed, though. Odd, I thought. I guess everybody ignored the plant because it was in a less frequented part of town.

Nothing happened in the next few days, allowing me to relax and think. Eventually, though, Lucius Fox gave me a call to tell me that he had the "boomerangs" ready. Excited, I went to him. When I got there, I was decidedly upset with the design at first. As I held one, I said, "You made these…in the shape…of bats?" Lucius smirked. "Well, considering you were the only one who could've been that "Batman" character those criminals on the news were talking about, I decided to create these 'batarangs'". "But I HATE BATS!" I said. "I didn't even come up with the name! It was Alfred's idea!" "I know," said Lucius. "But I think it would be a good name."

I sighed. "All right," I said, resigned to it, "What else do you have?" Lucius said, "I thought you'd never ask." As we walked, we came across a fridge. "So," continued Lucius, opening it, "that Red Hood guy…I heard he's in Arkham." "Yeah," I said, "But, uh, he prefers to be called the Joker now." "Do you think the chemicals in the plant messed with him?" Lucius asked. "Here," he added, handing me a bottle of Budweiser. I opened it, saying, "It's possible. I mean, he definitely isn't the same as when I first met him." Lucius took a swig from his bottle, and we proceeded. Soon, we came upon something that made me violently spit out my drink.

It was a suit that seemed to be constructed from Kevlar. The design was black and yellow, with a yellow bat in the midsection whose wings stretched to the shoulders. Following this, there was belt-like part of the suit that was also yellow. The belt had hooks on it. The gloves and boots had curved spikes. The boots and gloves had yellow trim, as well. Everything else was black. There were even spikes on the helmet that obviously represented ears. There was one thing missing, though.

"There's no cape," I said. "I didn't think it would be practical," said Lucius. "Well, maybe," I said, "But great superheroes always have capes." "What, like that Superman guy in Metropolis?" said Lucius, incredulous. "He can afford having a cape. Even if it got in his way, he's still bullet-proof. If you had a cape, and it got in your way, even if the suit is bullet-proof, unlike Superman, you're not." "It would still look cooler," I said. "Fine," said Lucius, "But on your head be it." I smiled. Maybe Batman isn't such a terrible name after all, I thought. My phone went off.

"What is it?" asked Lucius. "Oh," I said. "My parents died at this time. I'm going to visit them. It's kind of a tradition for me." Lucius nodded, and I left.

I walked to the local florist (I walk everywhere) and bought a dozen roses. Afterwards, I walked to the local cemetery. I went to my parents graves. After laying down the roses, I started talking. "So," I began, "it's been a while. I haven't been doing much, and just in case you're wondering, Mom, I haven't found a girlfriend yet. But don't heckle me or anything. I'd rather you not knock over any lamps. You might give Alfred a heart attack." I laughed. Everything seemed okay. I was right there, with my parents.

I heard a voice behind me saying, "You talk to them?" It turned around to see Dick Grayson. "Yeah," I said. "Why?" he asked. I thought about how I would respond. I finally said, "I don't know. I guess it just makes me feel like they're still here." Dick said, "I don't think I could do that. I know they're dead, and I know there's nothing I can do about it." I looked at his face, closely this time.

He had dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a general aura of depression. "Well," I said, "that's true. They won't come back, no matter what. But let me ask you a question: did your parents love you?" "Yeah," he responded. "How do you know?" I said. "They always said so," he said. He started getting a smile on his face. "My mom would always kiss my forehead when I went to sleep until I turned twelve. But even after that, she would always sit down and ask me how my day went. My dad, he always took me out for pizza, once a month, just to have some guy talk. Sometimes we would laugh, sometimes we would cry. But it was always good."

Dick looked much better at this point. When he started up again, I could see the life in his eyes come back. "And when we went back to the circus and traveled around, my parents would be my best friends. I was never alone." "And did they know you loved them?" I asked. "Yeah," he said. "Then just think about that, and I think you'll find yourself talking to them."

I looked back at my parent's graves and said, "You two kids have fun." As I left, Dick ran up to me and said, "Wait, how are you so happy when you see them?" I smiled and replied, "I'm not. But if I know one thing about my parents, it's that they would be very disappointed in me if I spent my time here just crying." Dick seemed to understand. I heard someone yell his name. "Oh," he said, "That'll be Mr. Geralds." "Who's that?" I asked. "He runs the orphanage," Dick replied. As Dick ran off, I thought, Good luck out there.

Roy was new on the job at Arkham. He was assigned to oversee the psychiatric sessions for the Joker. The presiding psychiatrist was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. When he first heard the name, Roy laughed. "What's so funny?" said the warden. "Her name," said Roy, "Harleen Quinzel. If you look at it, it's kind of like Harley Quinn, or harlequin." "Yeah, she gets that a lot. But don't say it, because at this point I think she's heard it enough."

Roy nodded and proceeded to the Joker's cell. Zsasz had since been moved. The Joker was sitting on a bench in front of the cell door. Quinzel spoke. "So, you're the Joker?" "I think you already know that, Blondie," said the Joker arrogantly. "What's your name?" "Harleen Quinzel," she responded. Joker raised his eyebrows. "Hey, if you cut off a few letters, you get…" Quinzel forcefully exhaled and said, "Harlequin, I know. Now, let's begin. Why do you call yourself the Joker?" The Joker looked prepared to respond to this. He launched into it, saying, "Because life…life is just a big joke. If you look at it, it's like a bad one, in fact. Because…a bad joke…doesn't make sense, and neither does the human life. And, and, a bad joke has a disagreeable punch line…in our case, death…that nobody wants to experience. But because the teller of the joke just wants to go on, he says it anyway, and you die. That is why I call myself the Joker." Roy saw how the analogy worked. The Joker laughed.

"Intriguing," said Quinzel. "Now, why did you break Zsasz's leg?" The Joker leaned forward and said, "Because I could. Also, he made some pretty funny sounds. When his bone cracked…oh, yeah, baby, he just exploded!" The Joker seemed elated. "He just sat there wailing!" The Joker was holding in a torrent of laughter. "I mean, if he was smart, he would've at least hidden, or something! It was almost pitiful!" The Joker stopped and zeroed in on Quinzel's face. He wolf-whistled. "Hey, Harley, you got some mighty fine eyes, there." Quinzel's face flushed. She didn't respond. Roy took a glance at her. Though she looked mostly repulsed, there was an almost alarming fascination in her eyes. The Joker laughed again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I WON'T BE ABLE TO POST CHAPTER V NEXT WEEK AS I WILL BE OUT OF TOWN. DON'T WORRY, I'LL BE BACK JULY FIFTH. BUT THE REST OF MY FAMILY WILL STILL BE HOME, SO NOBODY GET ANY IDEAS.