Gotham v. Joker, 1894 (Chapter Eight, Part Two)

Joker touches the back of his head and it feels wet. He’s starting to feel dizzy. The two people that he has heavily pissed off are towering over him. He looks to his right and sees that his gun is too far out of reach.

“Are you okay?” Batman asks. But he’s looking at Catwoman. Of course. Why would anyone care about him?

“Yeah, the bullet missed the humerus. I’ll be fine,” she says.

His vision is deteriorating, getting hazy. He’s staring at something so bright and warped out of shape. It must be the moon. But there seems to be two moons. How? The second one is as red as blood. It looks spiky and unstable. Scary.

“Aaah!” Joker screams. Something hot just wrapped around his right hand wrist. That wretched cat!

“The Lasso of Hestia compels you to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just get it over with,” Joker says.

“Why did you kill Barbara?” she asks.

“He made me do it.”

The lasso doesn’t react, so it can’t be a lie.

The Cat asks him something else but his audition is slipping. His eyes are on Batman who’s walking over to the revolver. Joker smiles.

“Who are you talking about? Who made you do it?” Selina asks again. Joker says nothing.

CLACK.

Batman opens the cylinder of the gun. “There are no bullets left here,” says he.

“So?” Joker asks, innocently.

“You said four bullets. Then you fired two. You’re not one to forget or miscount.”

“I’m going to miss these astute observations, aren’t I?” Joker says, almost to himself. He gropes back into his inner pocket and pulls the gun that the Man in Black left him.

“No!” Batman screams.

BAM! BAM!

Two bullets are unleashed. Joker laughs. Selina and Batman’s bodies thud into the sandy shore, lifelessly. “This isn’t happening, is it?” he asks an invisible audience. Joker puts the gun to his head now and chuckles.

CLICK.

Nothing happens and he’s still alive. Of course. He’s all out of bullets. All out of lifelines. Or is he? His ears jerk hearing footsteps on his right. It’s a tall silhouette of a man. He has come to collect his hat. Once he crowns himself with it, the purple tint changes to black. He has a big smile on his face. This man may not be the devil but he is undoubtedly as close as one can get.

“Wait!” Joker pleads. “Don’t go! I need you!”

“It’s over, mate. It’s over.” He turns around and disappears into the mist.

***

Joker hasn’t fully passed out from the blow to the back of his head. He is muttering something unintelligibly. Batman fires the flare and it soars upward across the fog. Once it settles at a comfortable height, it looks like a blood moon hanging beside the full one.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t do that,” Selina says, her wounded arm hanging awkwardly.

Batman shoots her a look.

“We can still drown him before the cavalry gets here.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I am! Very. If three years at Arkham couldn’t fix him, nothing will…” Selina trails off and rubs her left arm. It’s seems that she can’t move it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, the bullet missed the humerus. I’ll be fine.”

Batman nods without much conviction. He suspects nerve damage. His attention is pulled to Joker now. The jester is reaching into his inner pocket.

“Not so fast.” Batman kneels down and stops him. Lifting that side of the coat, Batman checks what Joker was going for. Inside his inner pocket, there’s only a knife and a folded piece of paper.

“What is that?” Selina wants to know, pointing at the paper.

“We’re about to find out,” Batman says. He turns to the campfire but the flame seems to have gone out. Fortunately, there are flints scattered around the shore.

He hands the paper to Selina before kneeling down. “This will do,” he says, holding up a big enough stone. He picks up the first Batarang from the ground, and swings it hard and true. There’s a loud impact. A flame erupts subsequently at the corner of the flint stone.

“Quickly,” Selina says, jerking the paper open with one hand. She can’t help but rub her thumb on it. The sheet itself is thick and smooth. It has to be expensive. Batman holds the burning stone over it. It illuminates the page to the extent that the contents are legible. It looks like a letter.

Dear Mr. J,

Oh how I wish I could talk to you every day! Unfortunately, it’d raise suspicion and I’m glad you understand that. If they could see you on your best days… only then they’d get why I love you; and you know I love you so.

You deserve to be outside, in the real world, yet it’s so important that you stay in Arkham, until you’ve defeated your demons. And I know that you will defeat them.

Hold on to this letter and know that I’m with you. Now and always.

Yours Sincerely,Harley.

“What on earth…?” Batman mutters as his eyes scan the page.

“Who the hell is Harley?” Selina asks.

“I think this is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She is a doctor at Arkham. One of their brightest.”

Batman hears a neigh and the rumbling of carriages coming from the forest.

Selina smiles. “They’re here!”

Batman, however, is deep in thought, contemplating his options. This letter could cost the woman her job. Why should he care? For all he knows, she played a part in Joker’s escape.

He snatches the letter off Selina’s hands, folds it and tucks it into a belt pocket.

“What are you doing?” She grumbles. “Hand everything over to police and go home. For goodness sake! You’re going to lose your mind if you keep another night. We got the clown. It’s over. Allow yourself to accept it.”

Batman drops the flint stone and rubs on it with his boot. The fire goes out but the corner still sizzles a red glint. “I’ll try.”