by Marv Wolfman
Scarecrow’s voice blasted over the mall intercom.
“Attention. An intruder has invaded our premises. Find him, but be aware, I want him alive. You have your master’s orders. Obey them.”
The mercs below snapped to attention, then moved off in separate directions, each hoping to claim the reward. Good. Separating them would make this easier.
He fired a grapple line at one of them, snagged him by the collar, then pulled him up. The man shouted as Batman grabbed his wrist and lifted him to eye level.
“You picked the wrong side,” he said, then he dropped the merc back to the floor. He heard a leg snap and a gasp of pain, but shock kept the thug quiet. He’d live, but he wouldn’t be running any marathons.
The Joker blood was taking control and he knew somehow he had to fight it, but it was pushing him far beyond the limits. He closed his eyes, let his anger fade, then moved on.
A Batarang brought down the second of the three. The third one saw his friend fall and ran to help. A moment later Batman landed on top of him and smashed him into the stone floor.
The final merc saw him from across the atrium and fired his rifle. The bullet slammed into Batman’s chest and the force threw him back. His armor protected him, but the high-velocity impact still hurt like hell.
The man fired again, but Batman was ready. He rolled to the side as the bullet shot past, missing by inches. The merc tossed the rifle aside and grabbed his automatic. But Batman fired his grapple first. It snagged the weapon and pulled it from the merc’s hand.
Then he leaped. His cape blossomed into wings, allowing him to soar across the atrium and dive into the would-be killer. He drove his fist hard into the merc’s face, and the man was down.
More mercs would soon be coming, and his luck would eventually run out. As good as he was, he ultimately couldn’t outrace hundreds of bullets fired at the same time. All Scarecrow’s men needed was one solid hit. He lowered himself to the ground floor again, and made his way to the delivery hallway. It would offer a small measure of protection, and some much-needed time to catch his breath.
The hallway led him behind the shopping area, to the private offices as well as the loading bay. They were surprisingly empty now, which meant all the mercs were all out looking for him. The empty corridors made his job easier, and allowed him a moment’s respite. He paused and leaned against the wall, then triggered his communicator to call Fox.
“It’s all fun and games here, Lucius,” he said, keeping his voice low to prevent it from echoing. “How’s it going with you?”
“As well as one can expect, sir. The Batmobile and I have taken out at least five drone tanks, and we’ve put several dozen armed mercenaries to sleep. They should wake up in a few hours, with fairly severe headaches.”
“I’m sure there’s a drug store in the mall. We’ll spring for some aspirin.”
“I’ll put in the order now. We’ve also been causing a bit of structural damage to the buildings. To shake things up a bit.”
“Good. Any word on Gordon? I haven’t seen any sign of him anywhere.”
“Nothing. I’ve been looking, too. You know, Scarecrow or Knight might have found him first.” A pause, then he added, “It’s possible they’ve already executed him.”
“I considered that, Lucius, but no, I don’t think so. Scarecrow wants to make me feel fear. He’s given instructions to keep me alive—he wants to break me. Killing Gordon off-screen doesn’t help his mission. I think they’ll keep him around until they get me, and then they’ll kill him in front of me to achieve maximum impact.
“It’s sick, twisted, but it’ll be effective.”
“And how are we planning to avoid that scenario?”
“I can’t allow myself to be captured, I guess.”
“Good plan.” Another pause, then Fox said, “Ahh, I see another tank up ahead that needs to be dealt with. I’ll speak with you later, then.”
“Later. And good luck.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”
“Desperate times. Desperate measures.”
41
He followed the hallway to another tunnel grating. His schematics indicated that this one snaked its way under the mall. Just what he needed. His sensors showed three red dots about ninety yards ahead. Why only three? Why weren’t they with the others, hunting for him?
Batman thought he knew the answer. He hurried through the tunnels until he was under a grating that let him observe two mercs standing outside a heavy steel door, guarding it. They accounted for two of the red dots, and now there was a green one inside the room.
It had to be Gordon.
He stood up carefully, keeping his eyes on the guards. They looked professional, with rifles at the ready. He reached into one of his belt pouches and removed a small screwdriver from it, then tossed it through the grating, away from the door.
The screwdriver clanked down the tunnel, startling the men. Weapons up, they ran to the sound. Batman used the distraction to lift the grating, then sprung at them, taking them down from behind.
He smashed his foot into one of the merc’s legs, splintering his knee bone. The man fell, yelping in pain. The second merc spun, already in position, about to fire. Batman arced over the top of him, and as he did so he grabbed the merc’s head and pulled it down, shoving it hard into the floor.
The Joker’s methods might be vicious but they worked, and they worked fast. Still, the impact wasn’t enough. The merc scrambled to his feet again, aimed his weapon and squeezed the trigger. As he did so, however, Batman grabbed his wrist and forced the gun up. Its bullet blasted into the ceiling.
The merc tried to pull his hand away, but Batman refused to let go. He forced the man’s hand back, until the gun was aimed at his own face. That was the last straw—the merc panicked. He opened his hand and released the rifle.
In a single move Batman kicked the gun away, then followed through and drove his knee into the merc’s gut. As his opponent doubled over, Batman clasped his hands together and slammed down on the back of the man’s head.
This time he was down for the count.
Batman bolted for the door.
* * *
Jim Gordon was gagged and bound to a chair in the middle of an immense chamber, broken up by a series of short walls that created an almost maze-like effect with dozens of closed-in cubicle-like spaces in which one could hide. A series of stone gargoyles protruded from all four walls just below the high ceiling, staring down on the insanity below.
Gordon looked at Batman, first with disbelief then with elation. Batman started to remove his gag when he saw Gordon’s eyes suddenly widen with panic.
Batman spun to see the Arkham Knight standing behind him, gun in hand, aimed at Batman’s head.
“Should I say ‘surprise?’ I mean, you already know I’m here.”
Batman glanced at his gauntlet sensor; there was still only one red dot in the room. The Knight saw him do it, and laughed.
“Confused?” he said. “Once you know everything there is to know about Lucius and his toys, it’s easy to counter them.”
“Who are you?”
“You really have no idea, do you, Bruce?” the Knight said as he unlocked his mask and slid it open. Batman stared in stunned silence.
Jason Todd grinned.
“I’m thinking ‘surprise’ is more appropriate now, don’t you? And aren’t you happy? I mean, the Knight’s come out into daylight.”
Batman stared. It had been three years since he last saw him, but Jason was looking even older than that. He once had a ready laugh, but now, even though he was relishing the moment and enjoying Batman’s confusion, his laugh was grim and angry. There was no humor in his dark eyes.
“You’re staring at me crazy-like, Bruce. Don’t you want to say, ‘Jason, but you’re dead,’ or something else obvious?” The entire time he spoke, the gun never wavered.
The Joker moved closer to Batman, waving his hands in front of him to catch his at
tention.
“Let’s not have a falling out here, Bats. I might have told you a teeny tiny little lie. But c’mon. Look at the boy. He’s alive. Isn’t that a kick in the cojones?”
He moved to the Arkham Knight and grinned. “You did good, boy. We did good. You should be proud.” He then turned to Batman and laughed. “You know, Bats, if I were you—and I will be soon enough—about now I’d be trying to decide if the Todd is another hallucination or not. Hint, he’s the real deal.”
“I don’t care what I’m seeing now,” Batman said. “If Jason Todd was alive, he wouldn’t have waited three years to tell me.”
Jason took another step closer to Batman. “It has been three years, hasn’t it, Bruce. Three years during which that monster tortured me. Lied to me, twisted around all my thoughts until I didn’t know what was right any more.
“Three… goddam… years.”
The Joker nodded to Batman. “The boy’s right. I did it. Me. And mea culpa. I dug into his gray matter and stirred it all up until Toddy made me look almost sane. But on the bright side, screwing around with his little-kid brain was the happiest I’d been in a long, long time.”
Jason stepped closer.
“So tell me, Bruce, did you even bother to check if the world’s biggest liar had actually lied to you about my death, or did you shrug your shoulders and say, ‘I need a new Robin. Who’s next in line?’”
None of this is real. It can’t be. Batman stared at Jason, remembering what he once looked like, but the man standing in front of him looked so very, very different. You can’t be here. None of this is possible. You’re Joker blood mixed with the Scarecrow’s toxins.
“No, he’s not, Bats,” the Joker said, laughing. “Look at the boy. As we’ve said before, if you prick him, will he not bleed? If you tickle him, would he not laugh? If you wrong him, does he not seek revenge? And if you bash in his head, will he not die? Ummm. Actually, I guess the answer to that last one may be ‘no’.”
“What’s the matter?” Jason said. “Lost for words? I expected more. I’m hurt.”
“The Joker sent me the film. I saw him kill you.”
Jason held his gun on Batman as he moved closer, putting his cowl back into place. “I know what you saw, and that’s how I learned how little I meant to you. How long did you wait before replacing me with Timmy boy? A month? A week? I trusted you, and you just left me to die.”
“That’s not what happened, Jason.”
Jason pushed the gun into Batman’s chin.
“You always told me… focus on what I want to achieve and it will happen. Well, Bruce, I want you dead.”
Batman nodded and allowed himself a brief smile. Then he slammed his head hard into Jason’s face, shattering his mask and cowl.
* * *
Jason staggered back and gasped in pain and shock. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain control, but when he opened them, Batman was gone.
“Coward.”
He reached for his shattered cowl and threw it aside, then he assembled his gun into a sniper rifle before tearing off a strap tied to his chest to reveal the red bat symbol hidden beneath it.
“You can’t hide from me, you bastard,” he said as he activated a red visor that wrapped around his face. “I will hunt you down. I will find you.”
* * *
While the Dark Knight’s eyes were closed, Batman darted behind one of the many short walls that formed the room’s cubicles, not far from where Gordon sat, chained to the chair, unable to do anything but watch the battle in play.
Gordon watched Batman crouch behind the wall even as Jason Todd shook off the pain and rose again to his feet. Jason snapped his fingers and a half-dozen guards streamed into the room.
“He’s here, somewhere. Find him—but bring him to me alive. I’m the one who will kill him. Nobody else. Just me.”
Jason looked up at the gargoyles, scanning each one. “He’s got a thing for hiding in high places. Maybe even hanging upside down, just like all the goddam bats. Keep your eyes up. Keep your eyes open.”
Batman was still crouching behind the wall, waiting. Jason carefully circled the immense chamber, moving behind each protruding wall, checking the cubicle hiding spaces, until he was less than thirty yards from where Batman was waiting. It wouldn’t take long to find him, Gordon knew.
Jason moved closer, then heard a muffled sound behind him. He whirled, gun ready, but nobody was there. He continued ahead, moving quickly, reaching the wall behind which Batman was hiding, ready to fire.
* * *
Batman wasn’t there.
He’d taken that momentary distraction and grappled to the closest gargoyle, then pressed close to it to avoid being seen. As Jason and his militia continued to scour the room, he grappled to a second gargoyle, once again pressing in close. He waited for them to move on, then grappled to the next gargoyle.
He waited. Jason moved past him, the militia flanking him on all sides. Batman waited for the last soldier to step beneath him, and then he dropped to the ground and took the man out with a silent chokehold.
The soldiers heard nothing, but Jason had. He whirled and fired, but Batman was already gone.
“He’s here. He’s targeting us. Do your damn jobs and find him.” The men nodded quietly. It was clear from their expressions that they feared him.
Batman grappled to the next gargoyle, then flattened himself again as Jason opened fire on the one he’d just vacated. The gargoyle exploded into countless pieces, but Batman was nowhere to be found.
He lowered himself behind another of the militia soldiers, grabbed him across his mouth and throat. In seconds the man was unconscious. Batman fired his grapple across the room, latching onto the next level up and disappearing into the dark.
“Bruce, listen to me,” Jason shouted. “I know you won’t leave until you confront me again, but that only means you’re giving me more time to find you and kill you. You think I’m trapped here with you, but you’re trapped here with me—and remember, I know all your secrets. I know how you think, and I know exactly how I’m going to kill you.”
He suddenly turned again and sprayed the gargoyles with bullets, destroying three more, damaging all of them. But Batman was back on the ground, hiding in another cubicle, another unconscious soldier lying behind him. He nodded to Gordon, who gave no sign, but watched as Batman once again grappled to a gargoyle. Jason’s bullets had destroyed half of it, but still Batman blended into the shadows, away from view.
Two more soldiers to go, and then he had to confront Jason Todd. He prayed he could convince his former partner to surrender, yet knew he would not. Batman couldn’t kill him, but he was afraid there would be no other way to stop him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when they came face to face.
Batman lowered himself behind another short wall and grabbed a soldier who was peering up at the gargoyles. The soldier went down, leaving only one more with whom to deal.
And then Jason.
“You’re good, Bruce. Better than ever, but you’re going to lose this war, and I think you know it.” Jason stepped away from the last soldier. “Everything you care about has been taken from you. Your former friend,” he said, pointing at Gordon, still chained to his chair. “He now hates you, as well he should. The Joker would never have had any reason to ruin his daughter’s life if it wasn’t for you.
“Your first Robin barely speaks to you. Your current one feels neglected. And you can see how you impacted on my life. I not only want you dead, I want you thoroughly destroyed. I want the very memory of you purged from the history books.”
* * *
Jason stared up toward the dark ceiling. Batman had to be there, hiding on top of a gargoyle, or in the shadows of the rafters. Jason held his weapon, pivoting it right, left, up, down; Jason would find Bruce wherever he was hiding.
“Change of plans, Bats,” he shouted. “You tend to win these engagements because your enemies talk you to death. Well, my talking ends now. No more
witty banter. If I see you, I shoot you—and if I shoot you, you will die.”
Jason turned to give new orders to the final soldier, but the man was already unconscious on the ground. A silent takedown. Batman specialized in those. He started to get angry, but pushed it aside. The soldiers were only cannon fodder. They existed solely to keep Batman busy. To tire him out.
Batman had the weight advantage and, as hard as it was to admit it, he was the better fighter. Exhausting him before the two faced off would almost make them equals.
Jason strained to listen to every sound echoing through the vast chamber. Everything reverberated off the walls—every step, every movement. Maybe it had been a mistake, luring Batman here where he couldn’t easily pinpoint his location.
Maybe it was, but there was no turning back. Whatever happened next, however the encounter unfolded, the only way it was going to end was with his former mentor lying face down on the floor in a spreading pool of his own blood.
Suddenly a shadow flashed by and Jason fired, but there was no one there. Something moved off to his left. He fired again.
Still nothing. He heard a whooshing sound high overhead, in the rafters. He sprayed the ceiling with bullets, but there was nobody there.
Jason was angry now.
Where the hell are you—?
Batman was behind him.
Jason whirled but a clenched fist slammed him back. Then a foot smashed into his arm, breaking something, forcing him to drop his gun. He scrambled for it but a volley of hard, steady punches kept him off balance. He tried to back away, to gain a moment to collect his thoughts, but a knee smashed into his groin and he yelped in pain.
He fell back, then the dark shadow moved closer. He twisted and rolled off to the side. The shadow fell on empty ground.
Jason caught his breath and rose to his feet.
“You are good, old man, but I’m ready now. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Batman emerged from the shadows just in front of him, scarcely two feet away. Suddenly, he was on top of Jason, balled fists smashing into his face and gut.
