Punch Line
Fuck. This has gone south on me in a big way. I'm on my ass in the middle of a circle two thugs and one clown deep. Cover's blown. Element of surprise is gone. And, if this stuff wasn't bad enough, my ass really hurts from the fifteen-foot drop to concrete. Fuck's sake, Jay-Jay; you really are a joke. Joker looks amused by the whole situation; grinning like he's got an endless supply of teeth he's desperate to show everyone.
"That fat bird tattled on me, ALREADY?" The clown says before tutting in something like disappointment, even though his face remains the same. "I can't say I'm shocked, but really?" Joker pulls out a pocket watch and shakes his head, "I've been free less than EIGHTEEN hours! Give a man a chance!" Nobody's made a move to grab me yet and my hands are quicker than their eyes. I detonate the smoke pellets and dive through a scumbag's legs, giving him a nutcracker on the way out as the smoke thickens. Okay, you fucked up, Mr Todd. Accept it and move on. Bruce is probably in the midst of rescuing the hostages so I need to buy him some time. So it's gonna have to be thirty very ugly criminals and a homicidal clown versus a sixteen-year-old boy in a Halloween costume. Why do I never get the easy jobs? Just shut up and concentrate. Just put them down as hard and fast as you can.
"Ten of you go find the Bat! The rest take down the brat!" I hear Joker shout above the noise and confusion. Yeah, good luck finding an exit in this crap; everybody's running blind because of the smoke…except me. The NVGs I swiped filter the smoke and make this open season. Still, as I begin to cut them down, I'm not taking any chances. I slip on my set of brass knuckles from the belt and make every blow count. Bruce hates me carrying these bad boys on me during patrol. He says the Kevlar plating in my gloves should be a sufficient enough edge over the opponent, but sometimes it's not that simple. Sometimes they like it. Sometimes I can't generate enough power to put them down. Sometimes they just hit harder. These cancel out those possibilities. Within four minutes I must've cracked over thirty ribs and broken fifteen. The numbers soon tumble down. When the smoke clears, I count a slack handful of standing stooges, maybe four. I've put down almost twenty. Joker's nowhere to be seen. I'm not surprised. The guy's insane, not stupid. Forget him; the big man needs my help. Let's go.
I negotiate my way through the final four goons, knocking out a combined twelve teeth, and head for the rear of the observatory. Rescuing that situation took me almost ten minutes and that was just to save my ass; Bruce is going to rip me apart for letting the Joker run and that'll be the least of my troubles if the guys Joker sent off have hurt or killed some of the hostages. I start sprinting. I reach the holding room less than fifteen seconds later. When I burst through the barricade, I find a scene I've seen a million times before; Bruce stood amongst fallen thugs and the hostages cowering safely in the corner. His eyes meet mine immediately and I feel my stomach churn. He isn't happy, not by a long way. His first words are too calm not to be suppressing intense anger.
"The Joker's location?"
"I don't know." He glares at me and I see his jaw clench at this revelation. I try not to wince. Everything was going so well between us recently…He looks away.
"It is safe to assume he has fled this location in favour of somewhere more discreet. We will resume tracking his whereabouts after dealing with these hostages. Assist me."
He doesn't say anything else to me for the next half-hour. After freeing the hostages, some construction workers contracted to begin restoration on the building, the GCPD are called and Gordon himself shows up. I hang back while Bruce briefs the commissioner on the situation and when the two compare strategies. I don't think I'm welcome at the moment. Eventually, we leave and get back in the car.
"Let me begin." The big man says as we drive back to the metropolitan area, "I am angry and disappointed with your performance. However, in light of recent events, I will give you the chance to explain yourself." This is bizarre. Bruce isn't interested in excuses no matter how good or credible they are. He doesn't tolerate failure if he has constructed the plan. It is never his fault things go wrong; it's always mine. That's the way it's always been. But now, for no reason, he's gifting me a way out of a long lecture and heavy punishment. I shake my head.
"The section of the air vent I was watching from gave way. There wasn't any warning it was going to happen. I fell and couldn't regain my balance. Everything just went south from there."
"Are you injured from your fall?"
"My ass is just a little bruised." He nods.
"I see. We will overlook your mistake on this occasion. Please try to consider potential hazards before they occur." That's it. For once, Bruce pretends to be somebody else, somebody less perfect and lets the matter go. I think he's still feeling guilty over what happened with those baseball flunkies. I mean, I haven't exactly been much better than usual with him, just less snarky. Then there was that weird hour where he practically held me in his arms on the couch and we watched a movie. That was definitely motivated by guilt. Yeah, he's still ashamed over what he let happen to me, even though he was tied up and probably smacked around a little himself. I doubt it'll last past tonight, his feeling sorry for me, but at least it's been put to good use. I should thank him for being lenient, but I won't, not my style. So I just nod my head in agreement.
"Okay. What now, Boss?"
"Joker's initial plan for Gotham intended the use of the observatory as a base of operations. Where the hostages were situated, I found a large surplus of chemical and biological agents, many of them common ingredients in his airborne toxins and gases. There was also a wealth of scientific equipment partially installed in the basement. I would surmise that he planned to introduce a toxin to Gotham with the purpose of poisoning the population. Having secured the bulk of his materials, I imagine he will need time to rethink his strategy and regroup. We probably have a time frame of less than forty-eight hours before he strikes. The best course of action presently is to return home and begin the search again based on new information." So he's clearly been paying more attention to things than me; I didn't notice any chemical vats during my stroll through the building. But it sounds like Bruce is happy with how things have developed; now that Joker's main resources have been secured by GCPD, the big guy knows the secondary threat can't be as large. Hopefully that means he'll be less on edge for the next few hours and I can go to bed.
"Can I expect an easy morning, Sir?" Al inquires after meeting our arrival in the cave. The old guy's dressed in his servant get-up, complete with bow tie and kid gloves; it must be after eight in the morning now if Al's dressed this formally. Bruce dispenses with his cowl, handing it to Al as he walks past.
"I am going to need you to monitor communications on all police frequencies within the city for the next four hours and alert me the moment any conversation or information pertains to the Joker or his whereabouts."
"Am I to take it then that you will be sleeping until at least midday, Master Bruce?"
"That is the gist of what I just said, Alfred, yes."
"And what of Master Jason?"
"I'm gonna sleep until I at least get one layer of bedsores, Al. Don't wait up." I inform them both when walking towards the staircase. I shed the majority of my uniform when I got out the car. As I begin ascending the stairs, the only thing I'm wearing is my underwear. Bruce says not to wear the uniforms in the house, so I'm doing as he says. If I had it my way though, I wouldn't even be wearing my underwear right now; fighting my way through around fifty thugs and scumbags has created enough sweat to make it look like I swamped them like a five-year-old and are just as uncomfortable to wear.
"I need you down here by five this afternoon, Jason. You've got nine hours." Bruce calls to me when I'm almost at the top. Normally, I'd ignore him completely because I'm crazy tired and aren't in the mood for more, but seeing as he was so cool with me on patrol, I give him a reply.
"I'll make sure to set my alarm." I shout back before disappearing from view. I go straight to my room, take a quick shower to rinse the stench of stale sweat and other people's blood off my skin and then do an impression of someone in a coma for the foreseeable future. I don't dream properly. I just have snatches of people and places, maybe see a few colours, but that's all I get. That'll be the meds Al's got me on; they really mess up my REM cycles so I don't get much deep sleep. It seems like I've only just gone under when I get woken up.
"Master Jason?"
I open my eyes to find Al right in my face. "Please don't kiss me, Al, not in the mood for romance." I offer whilst reluctantly sitting up.
"There are desert-dwelling lizards I would rather press my lips against than you, Master Jason so I shouldn't worry. Follow my finger." I keep forgetting I've only been back in the game for a couple of days; before that I was still recovering from a serious concussion. Al's still worried about residual damage and aftereffects. So I follow his finger with my eyes. He asks me to recite some phrases he told me to learn in order to test my memory. I do it perfectly. He begins checking how my other injuries are healing. My ribs are fine now and, judging from my performance in the observatory, so is my back. I keep telling him this, but he won't listen. Sometimes I think he just likes to mother me. Sometimes I like him to do that too.
"What time is it?" I ask as he finishes examining my ribs.
"Three-forty-eight in the afternoon, Sir. Are you ready to get up now?" Al says handing me what I pray to god is a final round of medication. I swallow the pills in one gulp and shrug my shoulders.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No, Sir. I need to change your bed linen and begin emptying your laundry basket. Kindly get up." He looks at me expectantly.
"I am naked, you know Al. If you want me gone, could you at least pass me some underwear?"
"If only I could, Master Jason. You have not brought your laundry down for washing in thirteen days and have subsequently missed three washes. Because of this, you have no underwear left to put on." Wow. I'm pretty sure I own like at least twenty pairs of underwear; how the hell could I have possibly…oh, right, the workouts. I sweat like a fat girl at a cake shop when I really turn on the heat in the gym. That's just great. I'm ward to a billionaire and I have NO clean underwear to put on. Poor, little rich boy.
"Why didn't you just tell me to?"
"Prior to two days ago, you had not really left your room in almost a week; I am not particularly fond of disturbing teenage boys with idle hands." I roll my eyes at that thinly veiled reference to jacking it. Does he think I'm that addicted to it?
"You didn't disturb me because you thought I was masturbating non-stop for a week? How would that even be physically possible?"
"I dare not even comment on such a subject, Sir. Suffice to say, if you wanted to achieve such a thing, I have no doubt you would find a way." Funny guy. I think it's unfair to duel wisecracks with a groggy, teenage superhero when you're a perennially awake and uber-witty butler, but I suppose I have to try anyway.
"In that case, please hand me my sweat pants, Al. That is unless you want to conduct an impromptu examination of my bruised buttocks when I stand up." Al's turn to roll his eyes.
"An enticing offer, Master Jason, but I feel sweat pants would be a better option." Al throws me the pants from across the room. I catch them without any trouble and slip them on under the sheets. I think I managed to win that one; the old guy's last line was okay, but bordering on weak. Jason Todd still holds the lead. I get out of bed. This is the first time my ass has been sore on the outside as opposed to the other way round. It's almost as painful as I attempt to walk. I catch Al watching me shuffle like a geriatric playing soccer and wave away the look of concern on his face.
"They didn't rape me, Al, okay? I just seriously bruised the damn thing. How long until these painkillers kick in?"
"Perhaps twenty minutes." I can handle another twenty minutes of feeling like my cheeks are grinding against each other like misshapen stones. It's not like I've never experienced this agony before. So I change the subject.
"You or Bruce find him yet?"
"Not as of yet, Sir. Master Bruce has begun to compile a credible list of properties that lunatic could have taken up residence in though. He feels close to a breakthrough."
"I'll go pay him a visit."
"Perhaps I should check your posterior, Sir. There is a chance I could administer some sort of treatment to ease the pain." Is he setting me up for a punch line here? Judging from his expression he hasn't realized how easy my retort is going to be with that kind of ammunition. I narrow my eyes.
"Are you going to kiss it better, Al?" The old man sighs lethargically before signalling for me to go and leave him to his duties. I win again. After grabbing some cheap protein in two boiled eggs and half a tin of baked beans, I grab a glass of water and wander down into the cave. Al's prediction was right on the mark, my ass feels kind of numb now and I can walk normally. Good, good. I find Bruce in his typical detective pose, sat in his chair, hunched over the screen with a single hand on his chin as if in thought. He's still dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown combo. Next to the touch pad keyboard is an empty mug that had to be filled with black coffee. He greets my arrival with the briefest of glances.
"Good morning to you too." I say to open a dialogue whilst sitting down in the chair beside his.
"It's the afternoon, Jason. How did you sleep?"
"Fine. I ran out of underwear this morning."
"Really?" He sounds wholly uninterested in the matter. "Joker is going to announce his plan soon. He always makes a public spectacle out of the event. I believe he plans to use the GCN tower to broadcast a video message."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I've been deliberately blocking access to the tower's relay system. So far, I have only allowed the proper broadcast signals to be transmitted due to verified ident numbers. There have already three separate exterior test messages sent to the tower to test its connectivity. None of them were coded with ident numbers. I managed to trace it to a tower in The Bowery, a brownstone building once owned by The Penguin. When they try to transmit something, I plan to reroute it to this terminal and play the video privately."
"And you don't think it would be better to just assault the building and destroy him before anything bad can happen?"
"It is only a broadcast; there is no way of saying whether or not the main threat will be present or not. We must be patient."
"What about catching this psycho? I thought you were trying to bring him down fast. What's changed?"
"He's been off our radar for almost twelve hours; whatever he's planning is up and running. What remains is how long he is going to give us to stop him." I frown.
"Who says he wants us to stop him this time?"
"He only keeps trying because of me. He needs me to play his games otherwise he has no fun and considers the whole thing to be pointless." I can see that. I take a sip of my water.
"So, sit here and wait?"
"Yes. I suggest you put on a sweater of some kind." I glance down at my bare chest, think about going back up to the house to retrieve a jacket or something and then settle on a better idea.
"Can I wear your dressing gown?" I know I'm pushing my luck here, especially given what restraint he exercised last night with me screwing up, but I think he'll cave.
"No." He's just playing to type. I try again.
"I know you're wearing a vest and pyjama top; just give me your dressing gown. It's lightweight anyway. Big guy like you won't miss it." He seems to consider the argument before finally looking at me for the first time since I came down here.
"You've taken a shower, yes?" I scoff at the insinuation.
"Not a street kid anymore, rich boy; just fork over the gown please." I stretch out my hand and wiggle my fingers at him. He does nothing for a moment. Then takes off his dressing gown. He's wearing exactly what I said he would be: a vest and pyjama top. He places it in my hand.
"You'd better quit being nice to me, Bruce; I might start getting used to it." I comment, sticking on the gown already knowing it's way too big for my size frame. His eyes are still on me as he offers a reply.
"We've had our problems. And I know I am over critical of your mistakes and that this often causes a rift between us. I demand things of you I have no right to expect. And I apologize for that, I sincerely do. But I believe my biggest failing, both as a parent and a mentor is neglecting to see how much you give for the mission. Your beating six weeks ago and the odds you faced in the observatory last night are testament to your commitment to what we do and how far we should take it. I am happy and very proud to count you as my partner and ally, but I would much rather we were friends as well." It's everything prophetic speeches should be: powerful, refined and laced with humility. Someone else in my position would accept it as a heartfelt apology and forgive him for past grievances. But they're not in my position, I am. Jason Todd isn't stupid. I want to be loved, for sure, but by someone who appreciates me. So I'm not afraid to bite at the olive branch being swung.
"You're going to have to try really hard if you want my friendship now, Bruce. It's the one thing that is never for sale with me, not for any price."
"All I want is a chance to prove to you we don't need to raise our voices to be taken seriously."
"Fine with me. Go the rest of this investigation without trying to tear me a new one and we've got a shot." The big man frowns at my conditions but nods regardless.
"Jason, I…"
"GOOD AFTERNOON, GOTHAM! JOKER HERE WITH AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FOR YOU, THE PEOPLE!"