Batman Arkham Knight

by Marv Wolfman

  He could use a few minutes of down time.

  * * *

  He cast his thoughts back to better times, back when his parents were alive, when they’d take him on vacations to Gotham City’s Gold Coast resorts. But his mind kept returning to the chalk-white face of the Joker. Instead of hearing the calming calls of seagulls, all he heard was that madman’s insane cackling.

  What the hell was his nightmare all about? He knew the Joker was dead. DNA analysis proved it was him. His flesh and bones were incinerated. He may have been insane, but he was still human. Flames dealt with him as they would with flash paper.

  The cackling stopped, and the Joker’s grinning maw disappeared. The rational Batman accepted that the Joker was gone for good. So why the hallucination?

  He wanted to avoid the answer, but his analytical nature—that thing he so depended upon—wouldn’t let him. Batman’s nightmares were the result of being infected by the Joker’s damned blood. He was the fifth victim, and the nightmares he was experiencing were the beginning of what might be a rapid mental and physical breakdown.

  No matter what he did, he was going to become unstable. The Joker’s blood was going to win. He’d suffer delusions from which he couldn’t break free. He’d resist as long as he could, but he couldn’t fight it forever. There was no antidote for the Joker’s blood. It might be a matter of hours, or days, but he would succumb.

  Still, Batman hoped, he would maintain control, however tenuous, until after he stopped Scarecrow. Saving the city was all that mattered now.

  And when he was done, when it was over, he’d make sure this new Batman–Joker hybrid, or whatever he was supposed to become, would never happen. He would not allow himself to become the madman who destroyed Gotham City.

  He activated the comm and hailed Alfred.

  “I’ve been worried about you, sir. I’ve called repeatedly, but didn’t hear back.”

  “I’m okay now.”

  “Sir, what about Scarecrow? Or this… Arkham Knight character? They’ve got tanks and missiles. Their forces are all over the city.”

  “I’m sorry, Alfred. There have been, umm, complications.”

  “What is it, sir?” As if sensing a moment of fear in Batman’s voice, Alfred responded. “What’s wrong?”

  “There was an explosion. My suit tore. A small tear, but enough to let in some of Scarecrow’s toxin. I’ve been exposed.”

  “My God, sir. Are you all right? I still remember what happened in Arkham Asylum when Scarecrow—”

  “Alfred, it’s okay,” Batman said, his voice firm. “I had a reaction, but it’s over now. And I need you to know I’m not sure how long it will be before—”

  Darkness.

  Explosions.

  In the void a distorted white face. Blood red lips. Oily green hair. Mad, insane laughter.

  “You want to know how long it will be before you go mad?” that hideous voice said. “The short answer is, it’s already done. You’re already there. Welcome to the loony bin.”

  “You’re not here,” Batman said. “You’re dead.”

  “You know, I’ve really got to hand it to Scarecrow. I’ve never been a fan of his concoctions, but this new batch… it’s intoxicating. It brings out the ‘me’ in you.”

  “I’m not you. I’ll never be you.”

  “Yet you’re talking to me like I’m really here. And in a way I am. You can’t leave me behind, or escape me now, because I’m in you. Inside you. Kinky, huh? I’m flowing through your veins. Wherever you go, you take me with you. I had you at first blood. You getting my meaning yet?”

  “Sir. Master Bruce. Sir. Speak to me.” Alfred’s voice shook through Batman’s thoughts, shattering the visions. “Sir! Master Bruce! Wake up, Master Bruce. Wake up.”

  “Alfred?”

  “Yes. And, sir, perhaps it’s time to come home.”

  “I’d like that, but I can’t. At least not now. I have to see Gordon at lockup.”

  “I know I can’t change your mind, sir. God knows I’ve tried and failed when the stakes were high. But I want you to think of me whenever you see anything out of the ordinary. Think of me. Think of your parents. Think of being normal.”

  “I’m not sure what that feels like. Never been down that road before.”

  “You have, sir. You just don’t remember it.”

  “Think of you. Got it. And if I can I will. Thank you, Alfred. For everything.”

  There was a long pause. Then, finally, Alfred spoke.

  “No, sir. Thank you.”

  Batman hung up and realized that the Batmobile was only a block away from the G.C.P.D. lockup. Good. The sooner this ended, the better it would be for everyone.

  * * *

  On the other end of the call, Alfred breathed in deeply, sat down, then did everything he could not to cry.

  19

  The nightmare hadn’t been real.

  He hadn’t brought Gordon to Panessa, hadn’t shown him the prisoners. But when he saw the commissioner standing by the Bat-Signal, waiting for him, he felt a twinge of guilt. But he shrugged it away. To save Gotham City, he needed to know how Scarecrow’s toxin worked. Isolate that, and he might develop a cure that would save the millions who had yet to be contaminated.

  He might even be able to save part of his own soul.

  “Jim,” he said as he approached, dreading what was to come.

  * * *

  “When you contacted me I thanked God. The explosion at Ace Chemicals… I knew you were there, but I had no idea if you…” He stopped. Batman was alive, but Gordon had known him long enough to know when something was bothering him. There was something he wanted to say.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Barbara,” Batman said suddenly. “Barbara’s been kidnapped by Scarecrow.”

  “That’s impossible,” Gordon insisted, but a flash of dread began to take hold. “She left Gotham City. I spoke to her hours ago, and she told me she was on the bus.”

  Batman nodded. “I know that’s what she told you. It wasn’t true.”

  * * *

  He could see Gordon trying to sort it out, to figure out what the hell he was talking about. And he knew he had no choice. The floodgates were open. Gordon had to know the truth. All of it.

  “I need you to come with me. I’ll explain everything once we get there.”

  “Get there? Get where?” Gordon said, his voice growing louder. “No. No way. I’m not going anywhere until I know where you’re taking me.”

  “Jim, do you trust me?”

  Gordon paused before answering. His eyes seemed to grow dark with suspicion.

  “I don’t know. I used to, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Well, you have to trust me. One more time. One last time.” Batman opened the door to the roof and headed to the stairs. “The Batmobile’s parked in front,” he said. After a moment more, Gordon followed.

  They drove in awkward silence. They’d been good friends for years, but now Barbara’s shadow stood between them.

  * * *

  He’d spoken to her. She said she was on the bus. Why would she lie to him? What was she doing instead of leaving the city? Why would she stay behind?

  Barbara was a librarian. Beautiful as her mother. Intelligent. Alive with energy. But ever since…

  Gordon let the thought fade. Barbara had been confined to that wheelchair for years now. What could she be hiding? Why wouldn’t she leave when he told her she had to? Gordon stared at Batman. Without knowing why, he had something hateful swelling in his gut.

  The Batmobile pulled to a stop. Gordon looked out and knew where they were.

  “The Clock Tower building? Why the hell are we stopping here?” The Tower only housed Gotham City’s richest. Even on a Commissioner’s salary, he couldn’t hope to afford its smallest apartment. There’s no way that Barbara…

  Batman opened the door and started to get out.

  “Jim… Commissioner. I know you want an
swers, and without any more delays. But I have to ask you to wait, if only for another few minutes. I want to make sure the penthouse is… I want to be sure there was nothing left behind.” He got out of the car and was about to shut the door behind him, but instead he leaned in close. “Please. Wait here another minute.”

  He slammed the door and entered the building, leaving Gordon with that growing angry feeling at his core.

  * * *

  He’d been to the Clock Tower a thousand times, but never like this. He opened the door and entered, saw Barbara’s overturned wheelchair and gently picked it up. Her files were scattered everywhere. Monitors were shattered. Batman stood absolutely still in the middle of the room, staring ahead.

  “Oh, my God. What is this?”

  The voice came from behind. Gordon hadn’t waited. He stepped out from the freight elevator and entered Oracle’s office.

  “That’s Barbara’s wheelchair—she was here,” he said. He turned to Batman, still not understand what he was seeing. “Crane did this, to get to me, didn’t he? What was she doing here?”

  “This isn’t your fault, Jim.”

  “Of course it is. I should have been here. I should have made sure Barbara was on that bus.”

  “You don’t understand, Jim. Barbara’s strong. Stronger than you realize.”

  “What do you mean? She’s not like us. Batman, what the hell do you mean? Quit playing your goddam games and tell me.”

  * * *

  Fear joined rage in the pit of his stomach. Gordon was standing in the Clock Tower, but he was in another time, as well. He hadn’t been in the Clock Tower back then, but he’d seen all the pictures. He knew every second of the terrible massacre.

  Barbara was drinking tea. Earl Gray. The doorbell rang. Probably Colleen from across the street. This was their yoga night.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Barbara went to answer it.

  The Joker pushed his way in, flanked by a couple of his goons. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and a blue aloha shirt. A camera hung from a strap around his neck. He was holding a gun.

  “Candy-gram,” he said, laughing.

  Barbara stared at it, at first not quite understanding what she was looking at. But then, before she could register shock or horror, he squeezed the trigger and shot her in the stomach.

  Gordon flinched. He was part of Barbara’s agony. He grabbed his gut and collapsed as she crumbled to the ground screaming in pain. Unable to help the daughter he so loved, he could only cry.

  The Joker stepped over her as she grabbed her bloody wound. Her eyes were wide and afraid. She was fighting unconsciousness. The Joker leaned close to her face and whispered softly to her.

  “Don’t pass out yet, Barbara. C’mon, show a little spine.” He laughed, then moved even closer to her. “Show some spine. You see what I did there? It’s a joke because I can see spine, right there through your open wound, and I can see bits and pieces of it strewn all over the floor.

  “It’s funny because it’s true.”

  The Joker took the camera from around his neck and powered it up.

  “By the way, if it isn’t too much of an inconvenience, I mean with the shattered spine and all, do you think you can smile for the camera. You know, like you’re a good sport and all.”

  He took the photos. Dozens of photos. Each more gruesome than the one before. Then he leaned into Barbara, on the floor, barely conscious as the pain overwhelmed her. “Just wait till your father gets home. He is going to be so furious about all this mess.

  “Tee-tee-eff-en,” he chuckled as he exited.

  * * *

  Barbara had been left behind, unconscious in a pool of her own blood. For a long time the doctors weren’t sure she’d survive, but once they realized she was too stubborn to give up, they altered their prognosis. Barbara Gordon would live, but she’d be paralyzed for the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Suddenly Batman was there, in the house where it had all happened.

  Barbara was lying unconscious on the floor, face down in her own blood. Batman looked up and saw the Joker grinning, as always, his hands covered with Barbara’s blood, scrawling a message on the wall.

  This is what happens when you drag your friends into this crazy little game of ours.

  He tried to turn away, but couldn’t. The Joker tipped his hat, walked past his transfixed nemesis, through the door, and shut it behind him.

  Long after he’d gone, Batman could still hear the fiend’s demented laugh.

  “Batman!”

  He looked around the bloody room, but aside from the unconscious form of Barbara Gordon, there was nobody else there.

  “BATMAN!”

  The voice called to him again. Who was it?

  * * *

  “Wake up, Batman. Snap out of it.”

  He shook his head, clearing away the illusions. He wasn’t standing in Gordon’s old apartment. Barbara wasn’t lying dead on the ground. But he was standing in the Clock Tower. James Gordon was next to him, shaking him, trying to snap him out of the fever that had taken him again. Gordon’s eyes were wide, and angry.

  “What the hell is going on here, Batman?” Gordon demanded, a growing fury in his words. “Where is Barbara?”

  His thoughts were again under his control.

  “There’s something I need to show you,” Batman said, moving toward a Shakespeare bust that sat on a nearby table. He flipped the head back and a small camera inside it scanned his face.

  “Identity confirmed,” a mechanical voice said. The Clock Tower’s clock face transformed. Lasers created a holographic display that surrounded the two. Batman stared at the display, his thoughts going back in time. Gordon stared, as well, but there was no comprehension in his expression.

  “Monitoring equipment?” he said. “All of Gotham City’s on that grid map.” He looked at one of the displays. “Barbara has been working with you, hasn’t she? For how long, Batman? How long has she been doing this?”

  “Jim, she used to be Batgirl.”

  * * *

  Gordon closed his eyes trying to make sense of what he was hearing. When he opened them again, the insanity was still there.

  “Batgirl?” he said. “The Batgirl? No. That’s impossible. Batgirl disappeared years ago. How the hell could she have been…” He stopped as he put together two and two—Batgirl’s disappearance coincided with the attack that left Barbara paralyzed.

  “No. That would mean she’d been lying to me for years. That you’ve been lying to me, too. How? Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my truth to tell, Jim,” Batman replied. “That was Barbara’s decision. She thought if you knew you’d try to stop her.”

  “Damn right I would’ve. My God, I’ve trained for this. You have, too. But I know Barbara’s history. She was a librarian, for God’s sake, not a soldier. She never fought anyone, not even in school.”

  “She believed in your cause, Jim. Our cause. She wanted to be part of it. And she was good. She was very good.”

  Gordon stared at Batman as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “She was good? That’s supposed to explain why the hell she became some kind of goddam vigilante? She was good?” For a moment Gordon forced himself to calm down. He looked again at Batman, and gestured around the Oracle room. “And this? How did this all come about? Wait. Wait. Wait. Tell me she was paralyzed. Tell me she wasn’t lying about that, too. Because if she was lying, I’ll never know if I can believe anything again.

  “Please, for once, tell me the truth.”

  “She was paralyzed, Jim, and still is,” Batman said softly. “That wasn’t a lie. After the Joker’s attack, after she recovered, she was angry. She wanted to prove that even confined to the wheelchair, she couldn’t be kept down. She asked me to help set her up. I knew she’d be safe here, in the Clock Tower, off the street.

  “Using the cameras spread across the city, she was able to monitor Gotham City and report to
me whenever anything was amiss. For the past few years she was Gotham City’s guardian angel. And because of her, a lot of crimes were stopped before they got out of hand.”

  “I… I don’t know what to think,” Gordon said. “Wait a second—you said Scarecrow kidnapped her. Is that because she was this Oracle? Or Batgirl? Was she kidnapped because of you? This is your fault?

  “This is all your fault?”

  “Jim, I swear to you I don’t know why he took her. But I don’t think it’s because of who she was. I’m the only one who knew.”

  “Yeah. Right. Only you. Not her father.”

  “She’s an adult, Jim. And she told me not to say anything. She made her own decisions. I chose to accept them. But you don’t have to worry. I’ll find her.”

  “You’re telling her father not to worry about his only daughter? Meanwhile, she’s been working for you for goddam ever, and you never thought, not once, to tell me. To warn me that my only daughter was risking her life every night I thought she was safe in the library.”

  He swung at Batman, hitting him hard in the face. But Batman didn’t react—just took the punch.

  “Goddam it, I thought you were my friend,” Gordon said. “How could you?”

  “I am your friend. But I’m also Barbara’s friend…”

  “Shut up! Shut the hell up. I should never have trusted you.” He felt as if he would explode. “I’ll find Barbara on my own. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

  Gordon started to leave then turned back.

  “Stay out of my way. And when I find her, stay out of Barbara’s way, too. Stay away from my family. You and I are done.”

  * * *

  Batman was alone in the room. He wanted to go after Gordon and try to justify what he had done, the decisions he had made, but he knew there was nothing he could say that could adequately explain to a father why his daughter was missing.

  Instead he tapped his comm and contacted Alfred—told him what happened. Alfred listened and waited for Batman to stop.

  “Master Bruce, I sympathize with both of you. But I fear there might not be a way to smooth this over. At least not until Ms. Gordon is found and safely recovered, if that’s even possible.”