Fanfic: The Batman Who Laughs (3)

Chapter 3

The Dark Knight Returns

The Joker sat in his den. It had been two days since the mayhem at Arkham Asylum. Every criminal now roamed the streets of Gotham freely, without being concerned about being caught and put back in prison. The GCPD had suffered heavy losses, with more than a hundred dead cops, and several injured. Dons Maroni and Falcone were on the run. Or they probably had been caught and killed, either way they were MIA. Penguin now ruled the streets and the power house of Gotham.

He shifted his position and sighed. Every weapon owned by him was now set on the floor in this room. There must have been at least five dozen guns, more knives and blades than he could count and grenades that he didn’t want to count. They were all pointing at him, at least the ones that had pointy ends. And he sat there cross legged, gloomy and miserable. Harley had tried to cheer him up a couple of times, and now she was nowhere to be seen. She was probably angry with him. But he found that it didn’t bother him much now. Now that Bats was gone, the world made much less sense than it did before. Not that there was much to be begin with.

He hadn’t moved in two days, staying in the exact same spot, just shifting his position now and again. Sleep eluded him. Usually, he never knew when he fell asleep. But it was always there – the exhaustion. And it was regular and infuriatingly frequent, but now he found that there wasn’t a need to sleep. There wasn’t a need to stay awake either. He was just … there. His mind thought of the things he had done over the years. The pointless things, and that was the point. There had never been a need for things to make sense. To show the low lives a higher way of living, the one beyond normalcy. Beyond fancy things and relationships. Beyond caring and loss, and trust and rules. And that’s where Batman had come in. Batman. He kept the Joker in check. Every fight, every disagreement flashed through his mind. There was no one else who understood him better, in the whole wide world. And now that one person was gone forever. He knew it in his heart, even though at that very moment, a number of search parties were still looking for Batman all across Gotham and other territories. Hope again .. bleh.

Batman was the one who brought balance to the world, at least to his world .. haha. The Joker liked Balance. Something that made sense to him. He did things not because they were evil, but because they didn’t make sense. They were neither here nor there. They were balanced. Good and Evil was just a separation made by the foolish humans who believed what they did was good, and what they didn’t (or most like couldn’t) do was bad. But the line between them had become so blurred now that nobody knew anymore. But things that didn’t make any sense were neither good nor bad. He was an agent of chaos. Destruction and Injustice were just his methods that added fun to it. And that was what attracted Batman to him. Like a bee looking for honey, like the poles of a magnet. Well, like Good and Bad. Haha.

But no matter what he did now, no one would be there to balance it out. There was no point in doing what he did anymore. The world was changing and he wasn’t sure if he belonged to this world. The one without Batman. He shot another one of Penguin’s goons down. His men had caught a dozen of Penguin’s men trying to blast his den out to kill him. They were now tied upside down, six on either end of the room in a line. He had already killed ten of them, sequentially from left to right. Two remained. He could hear their muffled breathing even through the dark masks that had been put on them. Fear. Some other things made sense, he smiled. He aimed at the guy on his left. Wait … that wasn’t fair.

“Inky … Pinky … Donkey,” he muttered. “Penguin … had … a … hanky … hmmm … Donkey … cried … and … Penguin … died”

He shot the guy on the right in his head. Blood poured from the cloth, like it had before, with the other bodies. Eleven down, one to go he thought.

Someone knocked on the door. Ugh .. he had told them not to disturb him ever again. His men entered. They stood as far away from him as possible.

“Sir … found this by the door sir … ,” one of them blabbered and placed a leather case in front of him.

“Open it”

The shaking fool moved forward and slowly opened the case and turned it towards him. Something black was visible through it. Something dark and broken, and ripped to pieces by the looks of it. Yet it looked strangely familiar. Almost like a beloved possession, a nemesis.

“Who left it here?” he said, automatically reaching for it. He knew exactly what it was – the Batsuit. The one donned by Batman on that fateful day. He examined the broken mask carefully, closely looking at every inch of it. And then he took the suit in his hands, running his hand on the Bat symbol.

“Get out,” he said.

They scattered out, scared of him. Typical humans, he thought. Always scared of what was too big for their little minds. He tried to laugh, but couldn’t manage. Well, that was a first.

He picked up the mask again, dropping the suit back into the suitcase. It was plain black, a broken transmitter hanging near the ear piece buzzing uneven frequencies, beeping with a blinking red light. There was also a small casing in the other ear, he ripped it open. It was a black wooden box. Try as he might, he couldn’t open it. He threw it on the floor, proceeding to wear the mask. With a little effort, he was able to put it on. Glancing through the one remaining eye piece was different, more focussed. He moved to the mirror on the other side of the room and looked at himself. His smile was visible on the broken half of the mask and his left eye along with most of the upper side of his left face was covered in the Bat’s mask.

“He … ho … ha … ”

He laughed, slowly at first and then it became louder and more intense. The maniac took over and he couldn’t stop laughing. He looked at himself and laughed, falling to the floor. Tears streamed down in his eyes, and still he laughed. So Bats had had the last laugh after all. He took off the mask and stared at it laughing.

He walked over to the last man that was still alive and took the cloth off his head. The mobster was gagged and tried to say something, only noise issuing from his mouth.

“Be a good lad, won’t you?” the Joker said, smiling. He then shot the rope that held the man upside down so that he fell to the floor with a loud thud. The man then proceeded to run out of the room, still tied up and positively whimpering.

“Ah … well … you can’t help everyone … hehe”

He then put the mask back in the case and locked it. Before leaving however, he picked up the small black box, knowing exactly what was in it.

*          *          *

It took all his might to jump over the river to land safely in the opening within the water fall. The Joker got up slowly, feeling the pain in his ribs. They hadn’t healed properly yet. There was nothing here. Except for the damp earth and the dark walls. Yet he was sure that this was the place. He could barely make out an opening a little further down the tunnel. He walked slowly toward it, limping slightly as he went. At the opening, he took the right fork, and kept walking. The stroll proved to be slippery and dangerous, but he kept at it. After he had walked continuously for about a quarter of an hour, he could hear them. Their sound was of the dark, and the dead. The mammals of the night with red glowing eyes emerged, only a couple at first and then there were more, clinging to a dark ceiling that wasn’t visible. There were hordes of them, all chanting in rhythm as he entered the clearing. It was a pleasant sound to have around if you were hunting the bad guys, he laughed.

The path ended abruptly, with a fall high enough to scare even the most adventurous mountaineer. Looking down he saw the plain surface of water, it stretched for about few tens of meters to a clearing at the other end. A short distance beyond the clearing there were stone steps that opened up to a very bright light.

Without a second thought, he jumped, diving expertly into the pool. And then he emerged, the makeup running down his face. He swam to the shore at a reasonable pace and then climbed up the rock. As he started walking to the stone steps ahead of him, he saw that on the linings of both the walls there were lights, dim at first but they grew brighter as he walked by them. He stepped up into the bright light and was almost blinded, his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, and he saw the insides of the Batcave for the very first time.

“Hmmm … hmmm, ” he hummed to himself in the silence. And his voice echoed, around the clearing.

There was too much to take in so he focussed on the large screen at the centre of the opposite end of the room. He saw a large face of himself staring back at him. Oh Bats, you really did miss me when we weren’t together, he thought. Haha .. On the right half of the screen there was information, a ton of it, about himself. He moved closer, intrigued. He read through the content, occasionally laughing at the inaccuracies he came across – Known associates : Harley Quinn? Bwaha … she was more than that Batsy, Weapon of choice : Crowbar, well he liked guns and knives too, and Places : 313 st SW, Jokes and Laughs, Arkham Asylum? He frowned. He banged his hand on the counter and suddenly the screen changed.

Riddler. There was Nygma’s picture, he looked cunning and smart as ever. Real Name : Edward Nygma, blah blah blah … Affiliated to Secret Six … Weapon of Choice : Question mark guns, Cane and Exploding jigsaw pieces … Previous job : Analyst at GCPD? Hehe … He remembered the last time he had a chat with smarty pants. Always asking questions, always with the riddles … yuck. Yet Riddler had given Joker the exact way to trap Batman and his sidekicks which had enabled him to kill Robin and, though he did not expect her to be with them, Batgirl. But Penguin had intervened, like the nosy bastard he was, and everything was now ruined. Well, not everything. He quickly skimmed through the list of Batman’s adversaries, stopping at Cobblepot’s file and examining it. He looked for places that Penguin spent most of his time at and bingo – the lonely mermaid. Fish’s nightclub by the Gotham bay, downtown.

As he was about to turn around to have a better look at the Batcave, he happened to glance, almost absently, at one line in the contents about Penguin. Known Associates: Fish Mooney, Carmine Falcone, the Riddler … he stared at the one name for almost a minute. Of course, Penguin and the Riddler had worked together. How could Penguin have pulled it on his own? He could never have known the time and the place to arrive at, and would never have had the wits to wait, till both he and the Batman were most vulnerable, to attack. This was all the Riddler. How smart, and easy –  to hire a gun to kill the Batman, when he knew the Joker would have already weakened him, and in case Penguin failed to kill the Batman, the Joker would be dead meaning Bats would never be able to trace the mastermind behind all this. Very clever, Nygma.

He stormed the Batcave, looking for weapons. He had to find them both, and kill them. He ignored all the other gadgets and screens around him and moved up the flight of stairs at the very corner of the hall. This led to a smaller, well-maintained room. Whatever light was in the room came from the ceiling itself. It wasn’t too bright, yet it cast multiple shadows of him all around, some darker than others. As he looked around, he saw the older Robin’s uniform placed carefully inside a circular glass casing, his own words glared at him from the front of the uniform – “The joke’s on you, Batman”. He remembered having written those words, a long time ago, after he had killed the older Robin. That was a good joke, he laughed again, remembering how Batman had resorted to killing after that.

He walked past the uniform, only to look at a bunch of other ones. The end of this hall had a semi-circular curve to it, with about seven different divisions. Each division had a glass casing, with a different Bat costume in each one, except for the very last division. That was empty. The Joker moved to the one in the very center and stared at it. The classic suit that Batman had on for the longest time on record. And that was his favourite. It had a certain familiarity and a feeling of home he could never explain. He stood and stared at it for a while, and in the reflection he saw that the mask covered part of his face and the rest of him, his smile widened.

“I never did like that time of your life, Master Bruce. Remember the late nights and the constant wounds you endured? You should have mentioned you were going to be back today, I would have prepared dinner.”

The Joker almost jumped when he heard the voice. It would be the infamous butler, he thought, and didn’t turn around. He heard the approaching footsteps as the butler made his way down another set of stairs that was hidden well. It probably led to the mansion beyond.

“Sir? ..”

The Joker turned, the smile still in place. “Such good manners … hmmm … now, now I would like some dinner, Mr. Butler. How about a trick first?”

“Oh my … ,” said Alfred, taking out his gun in an instant. He ducked behind the table, dropping the tray he was carrying. It hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed all around. “Where is Batman?”

“Haha, that was quick. Bruce is dead, Alfred. The Penguin killed him, and I will destroy that excuse for a human being. No need to worry .. Hehe”

“Batman cannot be gone. But I will make sure you’ll pay for what you have done to all those families. What you did to Master Robin,” said Alfred firing his gun at the place Joker had occupied seconds ago.

The Joker leaped for cover quickly. He did not want to kill the poor Butler, but if need be he would. He shifted his position quickly, a peek here, a laugh there. The man fired at him, always missing by a second or two. Well trained, he thought to himself. Former military, but too old to keep up with him. He counted the bullets, 6 done. He moved to strike. As he reached the old man’s hiding spot, something hit him hard in the head. He lost balance momentarily before clubbing the man behind his head. As Alfred fell unconscious, the Joker stumbled for balance, holding the table to steady himself.

He glanced at the study one last time, preparing to go up to the Wayne Manor. Some of the books seemed to have fallen out of the case as he was fumbling to get rid of the butler. He stared at the empty space between books in the case, there in the very middle was a switch, a simple switch painted red. Would that cause explosions somewhere? He laughed and flipped it. Part of the floor moved. Just beyond Robin’s casing, a circular portion of the floor popped open and something was emerging out of it, revolving about itself, slowly.

*          *          *

At last he knew what had to be done. The crowd was huge and always moving. He stood up on the Giant wheel, and it was revolving slowly. As his cart neared the top, he looked at the crowd again. So peaceful and restive on a Sunday they were, haha, well not for much longer. Almost enough people had been ushered into the circus tent, his men had specific instructions and Harley would make sure they worked seamlessly as they were supposed to.

He jumped off the cart as it was nearing the ground. Several people screamed, but he walked it off, heading straight for the Circus tent. As he entered the back stage, he heard the screams, people calling out for help. But no help would come here. Hehe. He then tied himself up to the only chair kept backstage. One of his men tightened the knots and left and he waited in anticipation.

Then the moment arrived. Three people entered the clearing – a man, a woman and a child. The child was shivering in shock, and when it looked at him, the fear intensified. One of his men, covered in a simple dark mask came up from the other end, with a gun in his hand. He then shot the man first, in the chest. The woman rushed to the man’s aid, weeping. She screamed something at the man, and then he shot her too. The criminal bolted from the scene. The child stood there, scared and alone. It started crying after a while, and someone came up and took it away. And then the scene repeated with a new couple and a different kid. Blood ran freely in the path, and every time a new set of people arrived, the Joker studied them, tried to understand. Tried to relive Bruce’s past.

Yet he did not understand. More and more Samaritans were slaughtered in his wake and his knowledge remained incomplete as ever. This seemed fun, how could it be traumatising? He ordered his men to gas every child with the Joker toxin. Every time the parents were killed, the child would burst out laughing. And the laughing never stopped. The child’s face was permanently marked with a smile and its teeth always showed, but still he could not help but enjoy the show. He barked at them to stop. This wasn’t working. He needed his own tragedy.

Plan B. He needed a doze of sanity. And he got it. Harley injected the drug into him. It was the exact opposite of Joker toxin, a cure for those who wished to forget and live a normal life. Although, it never truly made the madness go away, it made them forget those times and remember their old lives again. And with a little effort, those injected with it could hope to forget the demons of their past. This was the last resort. He was injected with the drug again, and again and again. Was it working? He did not feel any different.

“More!,” he barked.

“But Mr.J, you said this is a bad one … ,” Harley began.

“Do it! More of it! …”

And so they put some more of it into him. His muscles relaxed, but there was no particular change as far as he was concerned. And now he remembered. Bit by bit at first. But he did. His first home … flashes of it … his mum and dad … the dog.

There was Batman right in front of him. And someone was shooting at him. He had to save the Batman. He tried to move, but couldn’t. What was happening? Then he saw himself moving towards Batman, but there was someone else, someone other than him, lurking in the shadows. The man who was shooting. A large man came into focus and he shot at the Batman, as Batman lunged at him. And then both vanished in the shadows. And he saw himself stand there, helpless and unable to move. The lights went out.

The scene repeated. There was Batman. He was there too. In his suit, boots and makeup. Yet he stood by as someone appeared and killed the Batman. The chair holding him shook, he tried to break free. He could have saved the Batman. He could have saved Bruce. And the lights went out again.

Again and again he watched as the Batman was killed and he stood by doing nothing. He had to do something, anything. He had to save him. There was no definitive proof that Batman was dead. Perhaps Batman managed to escape on his own. Before he could come to a fair conclusion however, the same thing happened all over again. And he lost Batsy again. The chair was wobbling too violently now, and he understood what he was supposed to understand – Pain. Pain was bad, why would someone do this to him? Why would someone kill the Batman? Everyone feared the Batman, except for himself. But the pain was real, and it was killing him. He snapped and screamed, at last breaking free of the bindings that held him together.

He found the large man, terror inflicted on the poor man’s face. Yes, terror was right because the Joker was about to kill him. He picked up the crowbar in the sand and clubbed the man, repeatedly hitting him in the face long after he was dead. Blood oozed out, and he didn’t stop. Nobody could take the Batman away from him. Not even himself. He kept on hitting the dead man. Reality stuck and filled him with remorse. Batman was truly gone, so that was what it felt like to truly lose someone. Someone dear and equal. Tears streamed down his eyes before he could stop them. The World had ended so why was he still breathing? He called out into the night. Someone. Anyone. He had to save the Batman, there was some poison involved, he remembered. He needed the antidote but Batman was gone. He ran around the place, searching and found no one. And when he came back there was no corpse of the man he had just slaughtered. He pulled his hair out, this was not what he had wanted. He needed everything to stop. Please. The loss was too much. He could not live like this. Not without Batman. Please kill me, he thought. His breath came out in sharp whiffs, as he realised he didn’t know where he was. There was only … Darkness. His mind sought understanding while his heart was out for revenge. Before his end, he had to find out who did this to him. Who did this to Batman. And pay them back. He was on his knees now, and was slowly losing consciousness.

“Heh … sleepy sleepy,” he muttered, before all thoughts went out.

*          *          *

It was cold. Too cold. Men couldn’t survive in it for long. Yet, what was cold? A feeling? A physical sensation? Yes, he would have to agree on that. For the moment, his hands and legs seemed to have no feeling at all, because of the cold. Or so he presumed. Yet he was moving. How? He didn’t have the faintest clue .. Haha.

After a while, he could finally open his eyes. It caused too much pain but, he had to know where he was. He saw snow, and a little stone. Someone was carrying him up a mountain. Actually there were two sets of hands, one on either side of him. They pulled him by his hands, his feet hitting the stone below. He let himself be lost again. It was hard to keep his eyes open in the wind, and every other sound was muffled. All that could be heard was the snowy wind.

The next time he woke up, it was warmer. There was a fire nearby and his hands were tied above his head with a rope. And he felt hunger and thirst like never before. He couldn’t remember his name, so he gave up trying to figure out who he was. His legs were tied too, he realised, now that he could feel them again. Someone was watering a plant nearby. The man had an average build, and was wearing what seemed to be a faded green Japanese kimono. On his belt there was a sword with a satin, black sheath. As he watered the plant, it seemed to grow in front of the Joker’s eyes, brightening up despite the absence of Sun.

“You seek him, that is why you are here,” said the man.

The man turned to look at the Joker and he recognised him immediately. Ra’s al Ghul, the man who had trained Batman.

“Is this you? Do you understand me?,” Ra’s said.

“Do I? Heh … I do,” said Joker.

“Strange. You seem … different. You have woken up thrice before in your sleep and didn’t know who you were,” said Ra’s, slowly walking toward him.

“Didn’t know who I was? Hehe … I still don’t know who I am.”

Ra’s stared at him curiously before replying.

“You don’t even know why you are here do you?”

“You seem to know it. Humour me. Not like I can get off these by myself any time soon .. hmmm?”, he said, shaking his hands to indicate the bindings that held him.

“You really are a madman. Willing to go so far to seek him? That is true obsession, something I know a bit about. This path would require resolution and belief. Things you don’t have. Things you cannot fathom. I admit I admire your tenacity but it’s not enough.”

The Joker didn’t reply. Everything was coming back to him now. It was slow, understanding came faster than his thoughts, as he recalled everything that happened since Bat’s death. He couldn’t figure out what was real and what was not. It was truly draining, and he was on the verge of falling unconscious again.

“Balance,” he whispered, his head hung low.

Ra’s eyes widened. He looked like he was about to say something. But then when the Joker looked at him again, he looked as grave as ever.

“There must be … Balance,” said the Joker again. “There’s always a Batman.”

“There is always a Joker,” said Ra’s.

“Bleh heh … so we agree.”

“I see that we do. Though I must warn you, you will not remember.”

“I know … haha,” laughed the Joker. He then lifted his head up, the smile wide on his face. “Shall we begin?”

*          *          *

Gotham had changed. There was no denying it. The streets were no longer safe. The police assisted the crimes rather than stop them. Even homeless men carried guns these days, and reports of murder were a daily occurrence. No one from the state intervened, which made matters worse. Arkham Asylum was no longer a place for the insane, instead honest cops and their families were imprisoned in its cells until they listened to proper sense and agreed to help the mob control the city. Helping the innocent fell entirely on the vigilantes. And not that many of them were left at this point. Nightwing had taken up the responsibility of filling Batman’s shoes though he refused to wear the cape of the former crusader. Red Hood was acting out, like he didn’t care, beating up mob forces in random bars and corners.

Selina still had trouble believing it sometimes. It had been more than half a year since Batman’s disappearance. And everyone knew the story by now. Penguin ruled the Gotham streets, his thugs collecting the extra tax imposed by him for protecting Gotham. Nobody dared to challenge him. Don Maroni was dead, killed by Penguin’s men while trying to escape. Surprisingly, Falcone had survived, and he was building his own army from ground up. If only they had killed Penguin on that night, she thought miserably. Nightwing had taken him to the hospital, muttering something about a No-Killing rule. She twisted her face in disgust. They never truly understood, they never got that there was no real Justice in the world. Having grown up in Gotham slums she knew who got Justice. Only the rich. So, she had decided to pass her own judgement on people. She stole from the rich, and fed herself.

She had run into Nightwing a couple of days ago. The regret of saving Cobblepot was evident in his face. He had told her that the mobs were getting stronger and larger. Just the other day he was beaten up for trying to be a hero. He only made it alive because Red Hood had intervened while she had watched from a distance, debating with herself if she should save the poor man’s life. But this life wasn’t for her anymore. She had ignored the last two calls from both Nightwing and Alfred. They were probably calling to ask for her assistance in resolving some crime in the city, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like any progress was being made. She was getting out of town. Away from Gotham. Away from the bad memories. Away from everything.

As Selina entered her own apartment, she saw Valerie sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. Valerie was a girl from her neighbourhood who had an alcoholic father. Selina had crippled him a few days ago, to rescue the little girl from her father’s thrashing. She lived with her now. Well, not for long. She entered her room and retrieved a black case from under the loose floorboards. She enter the code 6-2-7, and opened it up. Inside were a few belongings of her own, along with a few thousand dollars. She dropped the stolen ring into it and took out about five hundred dollars before closing the case again. She changed quickly, into something a little more comfortable and left the room, taking only the black case with her.

“The rent’s good for another month, after that you’ll need this,” she said, handing the money to Valerie. “Don’t go back to your house, stay here. I’ve talked to the deli manager around the corner and he will let you wait tables every weekend from 11 to 4. Don’t go outside after dark.”

“Sure I can’t convince you to stay sis?,” Valerie asked, in her timid little voice. Selina looked at her. The girl was almost nineteen, with brown hair and dark, opaque black eyes. She didn’t seem a day over fifteen. The day Selina rescued her from her father, the girl hadn’t been crying. She simply looked surprised that someone had the audacity to intervene. And when she brought the girl to her own place, Valerie had made herself at home quickly, forgetting about her other home, enjoying her freedom. Selina smiled at her.

“I have to get out of town, okay? We’ve talked about this. Stay out of trouble, please,” she said. Goodbyes were hard.

“Okay, send me a postcard,” said the girl, getting back to her reading.

Selina stared at Valerie for a moment. And then she sped off, her memories threatening to bring out the emotional side of her. She cleared her throat. There was nothing here for her. Bruce was gone, and there wasn’t anyone else she cared about. She had to leave.

She smelled the wet mud before feeling the rain on her skin. It was barely a drizzle, but the storm seemed close at hand. Her flight would be delayed, she cursed. A cab pulled up. She clambered in without paying much attention.

“W’ere to, m’am?,” the cabbie blubbered.

“The airport,” she said, rolling down her window.

The cab pulled out of the street and she glanced back one last time at the old, haunted buildings in the rain, and the street lights that were hung up by ropes in some places. Men roamed the streets, drinking and smoking, without a care in the world. There were some men beating up a man while others stood by and watched. One last sordid image of the city she was leaving behind. The cab sped through the rain, skirting the East End district. She glanced at the dark buildings of Wochester Alley, remembering how she had taken down a street thug trying to save a little boy. It all seemed like a long time ago. A different life.

A shadow shifted in the night. It wasn’t a bird. Something bigger, and darker. She saw it again. The movement was a blur. Probably Red Hood on his nightly patrol, she snorted. The car swerved suddenly, the cabbie cried out in alarm. Before she could even make a movement however, something heavy fell on the cab, breaking the front glass. The body rolled over and fell to the ground. She quickly looked up, to the top of the building.

It couldn’t be. But he was right there. The Dark Knight. Lightning struck and his features seemed much more intelligible. Two ears out like a bat, dark ensemble all over and the cape hovered in the strong wind. Happiness filled her like a dry sponge absorbing water on the floor. He had taken long enough. But he was back now, so everything else didn’t matter. She got out of the car, into the rain. Lightning struck again, closer this time, and making him much more visible. She was sure it was him. Tall, strongly built, and silent. Brooding as ever, she thought smugly. There was one other thing though, he was smiling. A very wide smile. Almost like a laugh.