Curtain Call 2
Let me start by saying wow. I mean, I knew Gotham's criminal population has the combined IQ of a squashed apricot left out in the sun, but big props to this proof of stupidity. We get to this brownstone building around seven and what do we find waiting for us? Only The Joker and all his minions guarding what can only be described as every big, red button in every action movie you've ever seen. I mean, is this guy for real? I know the big guy is just as stunned by this as I am. He gives nothing away, but I know he's surprised by this madness.
"It could be a trap." He points out. I roll my eyes.
"I think you'll find it's obviously a trap. What do we do?" The big man considers something internally.
"We use thermal imaging to confirm Joker and his men are actually present, sweep the building for projectors and explosive devices and confirm that the button has a definite power source and connection to an exterior detonator." Standard operating procedures are a good thing; they prevent what we might call 'colossal and irreparable fuck-ups' although I am being a little technical there. Bruce scans with thermal imaging software built into his cowl while I use the electronic components in my belt to sweep for unusually placed positioned power sources. When I find projectors present, I'm not surprised. Bruce is quick to come back and confirm there are no persons present in the building, but there is an external broadcast system, one that laughing boy is probably using to monitor the building for our arrival. He's an idiot, really is underestimating us. The big guy easily traces the source of the broadcast signal to the condemned Gotham Ice Factory, one of the human popsicle's, otherwise known as Mr Freeze's favourite haunts. This is sad, squatting in another villain's hidey hole. I can't wait to knock that freak's teeth out and put him in traction.
I don't really want to give you the full, detailed brief on what happened when we crashed through the skylight at the factory. Mainly, because it went south again. Joker's a homicidal maniac for sure, but he's also damn impressive at inventing on the fly. Realizing we might actually we able to stop him, the clown incapacitated the big man first. There were no fisticuffs, no overwhelming numbers or even a single shot fired; Joker simply snuck up behind him and doused him with some chemical agent. The effects were pretty startling to say the least; Bruce crumpled to the deck like wet paper within three seconds of muscling Joker off. It had to have been some kind of paralytic agent or other, fast-acting and very, very inconvenient. So, I was alone and facing down a small army of hoods and murderers with a dangerous Pagliacci as their ringleader. As experienced and competent as I was, at that moment, I was trying desperately not to drop a load in my pants. The only thing I could hear at that time, besides the blood pounding in my ears, was that little voice asking me to make a choice:
Fight or Flight, Jay-Jay?
Fight or Flight?
Fight or Flight?
Since I couldn't outrun any of them with a two-hundred and ten pound superhero across my shoulders, I think the voice was making a joke giving me any options besides the hardest one. Even my conscience is a smartass. Time to fight. Once again, it was Jason Todd versus THE WORLD. I'm not gonna lie, I got hit a lot. And I got scared that neither of us would make it out of there alive. I just thank God that I'm terrified of the Grim Reaper because my fear of death keep me in it. Every time I took a heavy shot and thought my legs couldn't take the strain, I found a way to return the favour. But I mostly got hit because I was distracted. The threat of a nuclear bomb going off and levelling half the city does that to you. Ten minutes in, I clocked Joker going for some makeshift controls at the far side. He was going to activate that bomb. I hustled after him like nothing I've ever done before. I barged my way through the scum barring my path with some brutal foot to face negotiation and arrived on top of Joker…too late. He'd already hit what could've only been the detonation button. At that point, the situation had gotten as far south as it could without crossing the border into Mexico. At that point, I believed we'd just caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. I thought we'd failed. Fuck…
"YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!" I yell smashing his teeth inward with my elbow and grabbing a handful of his shirt while preparing to beat him to death. Then I notice the quiet outside the factory walls. It's too quiet for a nuclear blast wave; I'm pretty certain I'd hear something like that, as crazy as it may sound. That means either the detonator doesn't work or, way more likely, Jim Gordon and his bomb squad have disarmed the device at the focal point. Smart play by the teenage sidekick right there. I'm so relieved by the revelation that I almost totally forget about Bruce lying prone on the floor. The disgruntled looking lackeys are starting to close on him as I look down from the platform I'm stuck on. I need a distraction. Why didn't I restock my smoke pellets after last night? I need a cover…I glance down at Joker and smile. "You know I've always wondered if you could fly." I tell him before haphazardly flinging him over the railing. He cackles wildly as he falls. Everyone looks and Bruce is safe for the moment.
I use the few minutes Joker's encore performance bought me to radio the GCPD with the location and appropriate level of force to detain these leeches. I also muttered something about maybe half-a-dozen ambulances. I'd like to see anybody try to run from what's coming next. After shattering the controls' casing and disconnecting the power source to prevent any further attempts, I jump back down, taking out four of them with just my bodyweight. Joker is a bloody and mangled mess on the floor; he's not going anywhere. Just to make sure it stays that way, I head-butt my way through three people and proceed to break all his fingers as well as his remaining ankle. Hopefully that's too much pain to produce an ace from up his disgusting sleeves. Those that are left are already nursing bruises and fractures from earlier and are in no mood to fight; that is just too bad. I spare no one because no one deserves to be spared. They all conspired with this nutcase to wipe out close to half-a-million people, no doubt just for imagined money from a diseased mind; Joker's sick, but at least he has insanity as an excuse. These guys have nothing to defend themselves with. I don't count broken bones or missing teeth for this encounter. I just take them down quick and leave them bleeding in pools. None of the injuries are fatal, just psychologically shattering. By the time GCPD show their faces, I've got Bruce on my shoulders and am ready to leave.
"Is he okay?" One of the rookies asks me. Uh, no, he's really NOT okay, dumbass.
"Oh yeah, sure he is. Sometimes he just tires himself out with all the crime fighting he does. So I'm going to take him back to his mommy and she can put him in bed. Shh, don't wake him up." The rookie gives me a withering glare, immediately picking up on my sarcasm. I dare him to make a move and he relents. I walk out. Then the rookie calls out. "What do I tell the commissioner when he gets here?" I roll my eyes.
"Tell him we won you retard."
I can squat more than three-hundred and fifty pounds for repetitions. Right now, Bruce feels a lot heavier than his two hundred and ten pounds. Every step is a killer and I think one of those degenerates in the factory broke my nose, but I keep pushing forward by insulting him. "You're a shit superhero, you know. I mean I don't see Superman being carted out of a crime scene by Jimmy Olsen. But yet here you are. It's up to Robin to rescue your paralytic ass AND save the day. I hope you remember this when Gordon sings your praises tomorrow morning." I know he can hear me perfectly. He just can't speak. So what's the difference? In any other situation there's always a chance he might say something. Here, until Al gives him an antidote for the agent, he can't utter a single word. I get him in the passenger seat of the car, take a few minutes to readjust my spine and then climb in the driver's seat. I've got a provisional driver's licence, but never bothered to take my actual driving exam despite being taught to comfortably drive cars, trucks, tanks, boats and light aircraft by Bruce during training; none of them were simulators, a brave choice in my opinion, particularly with the plane. The bat mobile is child's play to operate, provided you know where all the controls are. Fortunately, I do. I fire up the engine, take off the handbrake, reverse her out smoothly from the alleyway and screech off into the night.
The car's top speed is close to two-hundred miles an hour, but she runs best at between one-hundred and twenty-five and one-hundred and fifty miles an hour. Right now I'm pushing it above one-sixty. Luckily, by the time I reach that kind of insane speed, I'm already out the city and out on the back roads towards the cave. I've only ever driven this monster once and that was illegally when I was a little bit stoned. As I recall, I wrapped it round a gate post before claiming the brakes went. The brake pads DON'T fail in this car, only the driver. So this time is a hell of a lot better from my point of view. The big man is probably just praying I don't kill anyone.
We arrive back at the cave shortly before ten; it's been a long one. Al gives me a hand dragging Bruce out the car and promptly gets to work restoring him. I light up a cigarette. I need this to help relieve the stress. Al glares at me in disapproval but I just gesture at the big guy and take another drag. The Miracle Man gets Bruce talking again in no time. Yippee.
"Jim disarmed the bomb?" He asks as Al assists him in mobilising his stiff joints. I roll my eyes whilst taking off my cape.
"I don't think he personally stepped up to the plate, but his team definitely managed to disarm the thing." Bruce frowns and then nods.
"They disarmed it at least twenty minutes quicker than I anticipated." I nod, putting my gloves, belt and cape in the armoury before unfastening the tunic.
"They saved our asses today. If they hadn't disarmed it when they did, we'd be looking at a mortician's fantasy about now."
"And you performed exceptionally well in the face of such adversity." He offers as I put the tunic down for Al to wash.
"That's why I'm your partner, not your kid. What did that lunatic spritz you with anyway?"
"A variant of spider venom, the main purpose of which is to incapacitate the prey so the spider can feast on it live. Simple but effective, particularly in the high concentrated form I was exposed to."
"You are fortunate to be alive, Master Bruce! I am certain that, had you not developed such a high resilience to Ms Isley's toxins over the years, you would have been dead in minutes." Al chimes in letting Bruce's right arm drop under its own power. The big man nods in appreciation and flexes his arms at the elbow and wrist joints.
"Still, I'm very glad we could bring these proceedings to a close so swiftly. Less than seventy-two hours to put him back under lock and key is definitely a new record." Bruce remarks, smiling at me briefly as if to suggest my role was somewhat more important than usual. I get no further verbal praise though. I'd say the whole success of this mission was down to me convincing him to change his mind. Robin saved Gotham this time, but no one is gonna remember that. No one remembers the kid.
"Well, I'm going to bed." I announce whilst preparing to scale the staircase.
"Master Jason, you are clearly injured. Come back here and let me…"
"Sit down, Al. You can treat me in the morning. Right now, I'm tired and irritated and I just want sleep. I got painkillers in my room. Good night." I pause after a few steps and consider. "Make sure you've got fresh underwear when you come calling tomorrow. I left it all by the machine."
Face hurts, shoulders hurt, back's in knots, knees in bits and my ass feels like it's been cracked with a two-by-four two dozen times over. Yeah, Jason Todd definitely saved the day this time; I can feel it all over.