Chapter 9 - Incensed anguish
Forty-eight hours earlier:
A harsh knock to her front door roused Pamela from where she had been speaking with her darlings. (The Rafflesias had sprouted again and were very much in need of her tender affection which she in turn was all too happy to provide.)
She had half a mind not to open, but what if it was Tanya again...
That thought steered her hand before she could control herself and she opened the old door with a smile on her face which instantly froze.
"Long time no see, Pammy!" laughed Harley Quinn, twirling her bat coquettishly through the air behind her back.
She narrowed her eyes at the 'Queen of Crime' .
"What do you want?"
"Oh Pammy, is that all you have to say after avoiding me for soooo looong ?"
Those drawn out words made her want to clean her ears out with soap.
"It's better than you deserve!" Pamela spat venomously.
"How terrible!" cried the pompous psycho, clutching her heart with one hand while the other pointed her cudgel away in a dramatic fashion.
Steeling her resolve she glowered down at the shorter woman: "Get away and never return. I am done with you. Our ways of life are fundamentally incompatible, so just let me be."
"Well, despite how much that hurts to hear, I guess you're in luck then! I just need this one itsy-bitsy favour-"
"I won't help you." she interrupted Harley coldly.
"But Pammy , you didn't even hear me out!"
She tried to slam the door shut, but Harley's aluminium bat wedged itself in the gap before she could do so. Damn it!
"Poison Ivy, if you do not open this door right now and face me I'll blow up your damn house, understood!?" demanded the woman who Pamela had once believed to be her kindred spirit, using a name she now hated and with the voice of an exasperated mother disciplining her child.
It was insulting and unfortunately actually effective, mostly because it was highly probable that she was speaking the truth... Harley was unhinged enough to follow through on her threat. Ever since she had met her eight years ago, Harley had been full of restless violence. Her time as 'Poison Ivy' had been brief and filled with many things she later came to regret, which is why she never wanted to return to it.
So, against her better judgement, she opened the door half way and peeked through.
"Get. To. The. Point."
"Jeez, is it because of that crazy journalist lady? She always knew just how to twist the fun right out of ya..."
"She was not crazy! Gabrielle just knew when you were full of bullshit!"
"Gabrielle, eh? And 'was' ? Pretty name for someone who is apparently rotting in a damp hole somewhere. I wonder if she offed herself, because she couldn't stand how whiny and clingy you were anymore~"
Pamela saw red.
"Shut the fuck up, you bitch! "
Her palm met the demented woman's cheek with a meaty thwack, which really only seemed to delight her former friend.
"Hehe, you still slap like a little girl."
Should she just kill this psycho? The consequences of that would probably pretty bad, but she was reasonably sure that she could hide from the Joker-
"So if the journalist is out of the picture then I guess I'll just have to pay a visit to her family or somethin'. I'll bet I can make them more fun than dear old Gabrielle ." Harley continued, a shit-eating grin on her caked up face.
Oh no. No, no, no! This deranged monster wouldn't get her hands on Gabrielle's daughter! After not being there for her dear friend when it had mattered the most, she would not simply stand by and watch her last legacy be destroyed by a madwoman!
"No..." Pamela whispered.
"Don't like that, eh? Then I guess you'll just have to bring me someone else to entertain me. I want Batgirl. Or Robin. I'm not picky. They'll be near the coast of the South Canal in two days. You can't miss the signal, hehe . Will ya give me this one little Christmas present, for old times' sake, Pammy? Or do I have to take my fun elsewhere~?"
"I'll do it." she murmured. And at this moment she hated herself almost as much as Harley Quinn.
-W-
A few hours after the breakout:
"You're telling me that Batgirl is missing?" he asked, shocked.
"She's more than your stupid sidekick, she's my daughter damn it!" thundered Commissioner Gordon.
He attempted to correct his blunder: "I'm sorr-" only to be cut off by the irate police chief.
"You don't get to say you're sorry for this! I find out my darling daughter has been going behind my back to play hero and that you let her do it… Worse, you encourage it , having her slug it out with the worst scum of the city without even a police license! She's not trained for this shit! And you have been hiding that from me! She was risking her bloody life on the daily to be your damn lackey ! So, no , Batman... You don't get to tell me what you feel about your fuckup until you fix it! Go out there and bring her back if it's the last damn thing you do in your miserable life... Because if you don't..."
There was a dark fire burning behind the tired eyes of the man he considered his friend for many years… A sort of seething, bubbling hatred that Bruce could have never imagined in him.
What could he do besides silently nod and accept his old friend's grief and anger?.
"Bring her back, Batman... Whatever it takes. "
Without another word he had vanished from the rooftop of the police station to investigate the place of Barbara's last known whereabouts ahead of the light of dawn melting the snow around that area.
Police forces had already marked every remaining footprint on site, but careless wandering had destroyed much of the crime scene before somebody had discovered its significance. And even then, the actual investigation would only begin an hour later, after the Commissioner put the pieces of the puzzle together in his daughter's now abandoned room.
All in all, what was left was basically worthless. The only possible piece of evidence Batman found was some strange pollen-like material on some nearby windowsills. Plants and fungi would not release spores or other similar particles around this time of year, so it had to be artificial... With it being highly localised and near invisible, Batman had the sinking feeling that it was a new type of biochemical weapon.
He gave some samples to the detectives and pocketed the rest, hoping that his lab back at the manor would tell him more about what happened.
Dick had, understandably, been quite furious when he explained to him what he was doing in the lab so early in the morning and had thrown himself into the work with desperation. They both knew that the Joker was the most likely culprit and that spelt bad news.
Oh, how Bruce wished he hadn't let the bastard go after cuffing him and Harley together. There had just been no time to organize a boat to get them both off the swimming island, but in hindsight...
He made a mental note to look into options of increasing the strength of both his suit and his grappling gun. Being able to cross large distances while carrying two people was clearly something he needed to be able to accomplish in the future.
As his adopted son worked on analyzing the mysterious matter, he called in some favours and organized a city wide search. The amount of money he was offering was a paltry sum for Barbara's life, but any more would be counterproductive. It needed to be a small enough number to seem realistic and yet still be large enough to be incentivizing.
Every second counted here, so he was hoping to mobilize all of Gotham for the hunt. Even the Joker could not hide from every nameless hobo, every spying eye... Someone would find Barbara; sooner or later.
Compared to arranging that, tracking the signal of her pager was child's play. Muffled and distorted it might be, few people on the planet could effectively hide his own technology from his network.
Dick wanted to come with him, but Bruce forced him to stay. Somebody needed to run tests on the material he had discovered and keep up to date with the news on TV and radio.
Secretly, Batman was worried that he would be walking into a trap. He would not further endanger Robin when the boy was still being hindered by a broken arm from his latest mishap. So, he was alone when he drove out to an abandoned slaughterhouse at the edge of Slavtown; stewing in his regrets in silence.
It gave him room to properly think about his actions for the first time in a while.
Had it been a mistake to make Barbara into Batgirl?
Ultimately, he couldn't find it in him to regret that choice. Barbara was an empathetic, headstrong woman who had been raised by her father to always stand up for the right thing. Some day she would have begun fighting for justice, with or without his interference. Maybe she would have become a police officer or a private detective. Maybe even a politician who tried to make the world as a whole a better place.
He swore to himself that she would get that choice. She deserved to get to live her life. Even if, perhaps, that road would continue without him. 'Batman' should not be tying her down to the filth and shadows of Gotham. Barbara needed her own path forward, free of the burden of the Bat's legacy.
Despite what the wilful young woman might have to say on the matter, he would need to cut ties with her. For her own sake. Never again should she be a victim of his own infamy!
As soon as he parked his Batmobile in front of the decaying butchery, he pulled out his tracking device and a flashlight and stealthily headed inside. Scanning every corner for hidden snares or ambushes, Batman slowly made his way closer to the source of the signal, but the building showed no signs of being visited by anything other than wild animals.
The dust on the ground was largely undisturbed except for paw prints where a pack of wild dogs must have wandered through. Mold and moss covered the walls and every piece of equipment was rusty and inoperable... Something here was strange and he couldn't put his finger on the reason why.
On the screen of his tracker the light stopped blinking rapidly and became a steady green glow instead, signifying that he had reached his goal. However, the room that should have contained Barbara Gordon was empty. There weren't even any obvious places where her pager could be, making him narrow his eyes in thought. Slowly, he tapped each floor tile and listened until one of them produced a distinctly hollow sound.
Smashing and subsequently ripping the piece of porcelain out of the ground with his bare hands took him only a couple of seconds, revealing a narrow crevice underneath. In it lay the pristine communications device connected to some unknown wire leading deeper into the bowels of the building. Carefully, Batman disconnected it to study it closer when suddenly a mighty crashing sound hit him from the direction of the entrance.
He whirled around, finding the door to the room barred shut by a heavy metal plate.
This place truly was a trap, after all!
Just as he was formulating a plan to escape, the floor dropped away underneath his feet, sending him to plummet into the darkness. His grappling hook shot out at lightning speed, hitting the edge of the pit and breaking his fall before he could reach the bottom, but soon after slipping off the slimy concrete rim above.
One after another, floodlights whirred to life and blinded him for a moment. When Batman took his hand from his face he found himself standing in the middle of a maze of wicked looking hooked chains, tons of razor wire and even multiple robotic arms equipped with saw blades . What in the world was this madhouse supposed to be?
His answer came when the pager still clutched in his left hand sparked dangerously and promptly exploded when he dropped it. The damage to his suit was minimal, but he stared aghast at the destruction of his personally built device. Out of its smoking and scrapped remains fell a little black piece of cardboard. Bringing it closer to his eyes he saw that it was actually a calling card, depicting a skull dressed in a luchador mask and wearing a traditional Mexican hat.
Batman quickly recognized that logo. This was El Sombrero's work! But wasn't the sadistic engineer supposed to be dead?!
-W-
It was the twenty-fourth of December. Most people were spending their day leisurely, with friends and family or just taking some time off for themselves. Even the homeless stood together around their improvised fire pits and merrily swapped stories of better times.
Some might consider that foolish after the Arkham Asylum breakout of last night, to ignore the very real threat that the Joker had created for Gotham. Tanya only thought it was prudent. Life was too short to worry over things you could not possibly change. You either made the most of what you had and tried to find happiness in the face of the inevitable or succumbed to it.
Then why wasn't she sitting at home, watching the snowfall and nursing a hot cup of coffee while attempting her best to ignore her bruised chest?
Because the newspaper all had a second big headline – noticeably hastily edited in – underneath the Arkham one: An anonymous backer was looking for clues on the whereabouts of the apparently kidnapped Batgirl ASAP. The bounty for a verified tip? Fifteen million US dollars.
Fifteen million .
That was a number with six zeroes!
With some clever investments she would never need to work a day again in her life! She would be able to leave Gotham! Pay off her debt to the mafia! Hire some scientists to discreetly check over her altered biology! Everything she could ever dream off was brought in reach by that obscene mountain of bills!
Tanya had to re-read that sentence a couple of times. Fifteen million were a mind boggling amount of money for a simple lead on an investigation. Her heartbeat had quickened and her mouth had been salivating at the prospect of earning that much cash for a few hours of work.
In her head it was a simple equation: Either she wandered around for the day and found nothing which also did not cost her anything. Or she actually discovered useful information and got filthy rich!
Even if the anonymous provider of the bounty was lying, the sheer amount of good publicity her contribution to rescuing a well loved vigilante would earn her could become invaluable later. She wouldn't be surprised if dozens of criminals were feverishly hunting for Batgirl now to try and wash their names (relatively) clean. And for the payout of course. Couldn't possibly forget that!
If her suspicion about the identity of the person behind this scheme was correct, then Batman was a shrewder guy than she had given him credit for. Villains and civilians alike had been recruited to his cause within a few hours, all driven by the desire to see Batgirl safe, because that was the condition of the transfer. There would be no transmitting of the money until she was confirmed to be whole and hale. An understandable clause, considering that otherwise her kidnapper could simply admit their involvement and rightfully claim the bounty afterwards.
Sweeping the dockyards in the early morning didn't bring her much closer to finding out where Batgirl went... She burnt the blocked off crime scene into her mind from her vantage point on a nearby roof, but that gave her little in the way of directions to continue searching.
From what she overheard of the forensic scientists' comments, the young vigilante must have been hunting escaped criminals before she gradually got more tired and/or fell under the effect of a powerful airborne narcotic, after which another person likely dragged her off. To where exactly nobody could say, as the snow had been destroyed by driving cars and pedestrians.
An hour of fruitless rooftop hopping later, and she came to the bitter conclusion that she was getting nowhere with this hunt. Gotham was just too big to inspect on her own.
Maybe she should just quit now?
No. Tanya knew that she would surely regret it for the rest of her days if she didn't at least give her best in order to attain true financial freedom! Even when life got tough, she pushed through and became stronger for it.
The simplest way to accomplish a difficult goal was to split it into easy parts and give them to a team. As a Human Resource Officer, she was more aware than most about how every great achievement in history had been realized through division of labour and not as populists would have you believe, the solitary work of great men. No king could rule an entire kingdom without advisors. No inventor could create a new technological marvel without the contributions of other scientists.
Sadly, the problem for her was just that she didn't have many connections to call upon.
Asking the League would obviously be stupid for multiple reasons, nevermind the fact that she didn't even know how to contact them. If the assassins knew about where to find Batgirl then they would simply use one of their pawns to collect the bounty for them immediately.
Bruce Wayne would not even give her the time of day to explain herself, busy as he probably was slurping martinis at some tropical beach right now. Furthermore, the mere concept of crawling back to her former employer so soon just fiercely upset her pride.
That only left... Pamela! Ah, yes! Her mother's old friend would be perfect as a temporary partner. Though it stung her that in the case of success she would have to share her prize with the botanist, seven and a half million dollars were still nothing to sneeze at. The woman was the perfect blend of secluded and shady to be available on the day before Christmas for a manhunt, while also being reasonably trustworthy due to her long relationship with Gabrielle! As the assistant to an investigative journalist she may even have picked up some useful tricks!
Rushing towards the nearest phone booth, Tanya dialled Pamela's number with an anticipatory grin on her face. The monotonous ringing had her tap her foot impatiently, before the call finally went through.
"Hello?" asked a familiar voice at the other end.
"Hi, Pamela! It's Tanya."
"Oh, Tanya! Are you alright? You weren't accosted by any strange people were you?" asked the woman in a panicked tone.
She furrowed her eyebrow in bewilderment at the weird question. It was probably just a concern because of the Arkham breakout.
"No, I've been alright. I have been in a few tussles here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle."
"That's, uh... good to hear." replied Pamela awkwardly.
"Yes. Anyways, have you checked today's news?"
"Yeah? Listen, you can sleep at my house if you don't feel safe with all these psychos going around. It's the least I can do. No problem."
Tanya took note of how furiously she spit out the word 'psychos' before moving past it.
"That's very nice to hear and while I am very thankful for the generous offer, that's not what I meant. I was referring to the fifteen million dollar bounty on Batgirl. Specifically, if you wanted to help me search a bit for any clues on her whereabouts."
"Uhmm... Why ask me?"
The poor woman sounded suddenly deathly afraid. Was she such a shut-in that leaving her house was a harrowing proposition to her?
In response, she put on her best charming voice and smiled broadly into the receiver: "Well, you told me so many awesome stories about how you worked together with my mother in solving all kinds of cases. You exposed so many corrupt businesses and dirty secrets… I figured you were an expert on this kind of stuff."
"I... I don't know about being an expert..."
Now time for the emotional gut-punch: "Think about it! It would just be like old times! We could be working together like you and mom always have! Wouldn't it be nice if we got to know each other like that? Making the world a better place and in doing so honouring her legacy?"
Silence filled the line and for a moment Tanya was worried that she had overstepped the line and caused the shy botanist to hang up.
Finally a weak reply slipped through the speaker, so quiet that without superhuman senses she would have probably missed it: "Okay..."
"You'll help me find Batgirl?"
Repeated confirmation was important to properly motivate workers into following through on their promises.
"Yes, I... I'll help you find her." she stated, her voice defeated.
"Great! I'll be at Garson's in less than an hour." Tanya cheerfully exclaimed.
That time should be enough for the reclusive woman to freshen up and pack her stuff.
Before she could hang up, Pamela spoke again: "Just... why do you need that money so bad?"
"The same reason everybody wants a big pile of cash. To pay off my debt, to buy a nicer apartment, to live my life how I want to, you know?" she joked.
"Tanya, this is dangerous. There are people involved in this... people whose attention you never want to attract under any circumstances." Pamela explained seriously.
Honestly , Batman wasn't that bad!
"It's going to be alright. We don't have to rescue Batgirl, only find-"
"You don't understand! This could get really, really dangerous! No amount of money is worth your life!"
Tanya's smile froze. How dare she lecture her on this...
"It is."
"Wha..." mumbled her mother's friend confusedly.
"When I said I need to pay off my debt, I was not talking about university fees or medical bills. You know what else my mother left me with, besides a long letter and a handgun? A debt to the damn mafia !"
Stumbling over her words, Pamela was quick to express her condolences: "I'm sorry, I didn't know-"
"Yes, I am aware. I didn't bring it up in our first meeting, because frankly? It would just bring the mood down. While you and Gabrielle were on your quest for justice and environmentalism, it also pissed off the wrong people. Powerful people. When my mother tried to leave the city five years ago our car mysteriously broke down. When we took the train we were stopped by a group of very polite and v ery much armed gentlemen who escorted us off the railway station and when she called the police we found a dead pigeon nailed to our front door!"
Tanya heard a shocked gasp from the phone, but continued on. These words were burning in her throat, yearning to be unleashed after years of suppression.
"So you don't need to tell me how dangerous this is! I've known about the rotting underbelly of this accursed city for a loooong time. If this gets them off my back, I'll gladly take a few risks. In fact, I've already done way worse and I will continue to do so. And why? Because, Pamela, I'm sick of getting stepped on. Of being life's punching bag. A car could hit me every time I cross the street, but I am not afraid to leave the house! Death is inevitable, but our fate isn't. As long as I live life on my own terms, under my own rule, under my own control... there is no price too high for that."
Exhaling through her nose to calm down she released her grip on the slightly cracked telephone and hung up.
She would definitely need to punch a few thugs tonight to get that tangled knot of emotions out of her system...