Batman Arkham Knight (25 page)

“Any special instructions, Lucius?”

“None—this device shouldn’t present any surprises. We’ve trained with this sort of explosives at least a dozen times. You’ll do fine.”

Shouldn’t…?
Robin thought. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Of course, if it explodes, you’re miles away.”

“Then I strongly suggest that you don’t let it explode.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Robin replied as he removed a portion of the mechanism. “Like you said, no surprises—this one’s defused. Going to look for number two now.”

* * *

Under the spotlight, Charisma started his next chorus.

“You have two minutes nineteen seconds, and the GPS shows three more bombs to deal with. Better get a move on.”

Like I didn’t know that
, Robin thought irritably as he Raced through the darkness to his next target. The shadows that kept him hidden also made it difficult to find his way, no matter how well his eyes adjusted.

“Found the second bomb, Lucius. This one looks a bit different. Uploading a photo now.”

“Got it. Ahhh. Not to worry. This comes from a different manufacturer, but it’s essentially the same model. Follow the same procedure as before.”

“Thanks.” He opened the casing and quickly found the chip. “It’s done. Down to one minute fifty-one seconds. Honing in on the third bomb now.” Rounding a corner, he pulled open the door of a closet. “Found it. Damn. I think this one’s
very
different. Let me know.”

There was a pause as Fox studied the downloaded photo.

“Good call, Tim. It’s got a completely different architecture. You remember what the radio chip looked like in the other two bombs? Well, if you remove the same one here, you’ll find another directly under it. Remove that one without letting it touch the connections that led to the first chip—that would be bad. Then immediately refit the first one. And do it fast. Understand?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

“Don’t think. Do.”

“Thanks, sensei. Got the first chip off. Removing the second.”

“Hurry.”

“You’re not helping. Okay, got the first one back in place. This is all digital, so there’s no ticking bomb to hear. You picking up anything?”

“I think you succeeded,”
Fox replied.
“Good work, Tim.”

* * *

Harley Quinn, dressed in a ball gown, danced onto the stage. Charisma started dancing with her like it’s
Ballroom with the Celebrities
. But he didn’t stop singing…

Robin was off and running. Moments later he located the fourth device. This one was identical to the first, and he removed the radio chip by pure reflex.

“One bomb to go.”

Checking his sensor, he saw that the final device was across the stage. He had twenty-two seconds to find and disable it.

Damn…

* * *

Charisma was almost done with the song.

Then he was thanking his audience, and moved to leave the stage.

* * *

Time was running out, and this one was unlike the others.

Seven seconds to go. Not enough time for Lucius to explain what he had to do, and still leave time to do it. He had to make his own choices.

Five seconds.

There were three chips stacked atop each other. One had to be removed, but most likely the others needed to stay in place. But which was which?

Three seconds. The lower two chips were shiny, as if untouched. They’d been placed in position by machine. He could see part of a fingerprint on the top chip. That one was added later on.

He breathed in, held his breath…

One second.

…and removed the top chip.

Zero.

No explosion. He’d chosen right.

There was no time to celebrate. He ran past the immobile Batman, still standing under the spotlight, and saw Johnny Charisma outside the stage door, running toward the street. He was moving at a pretty good clip, but not nearly fast enough.

Robin caught up with him and tackled him to the ground, then cuffed his hands with plastic ties and dragged him to his feet.

“This is for your own good, Johnny,” Robin said. “If we can cure you, you’ll thank us later.” Charisma just laughed.
Might as well explain physics to a gopher
, Robin thought.

He returned to the soundstage. Batman was still standing under the spotlight.

“Batman, I’ve diffused the bombs. I’ve got the Joker or Charisma or whatever he’s calling himself now. We have to find Harley and the others who’ve been infected with the Joker’s blood.”

Batman looked dazed, unsure of where he was.

“Why?” he asked. “Wouldn’t they all be gone by now?”

His hesitation was unnerving. Robin activated his comm and talked to Fox.

“Something’s wrong with Batman, Lucius,” Tim said. “And Harley said the others infected by the Joker blood are still in the theater.”

“This is Harley Quinn you’re talking about, Tim,”
Fox reminded him.
“I’m not certain she’d recognize the truth if she fell into a vat of it.”

“Normally I’d agree, but I think she was telling the truth. This time at least—she didn’t have any reason to lie, and every reason to get us here. But Batman’s acting as if he didn’t hear her. Look, I don’t know if it’s Scarecrow’s fear toxin or what, but I think he’ll only slow me down when we need to move fast. Any ideas?”

“Whatever happened to him, beneath it all he’s still the same man. If we want him to cooperate, we have to present a logical argument.”
Fox paused, then added,
“At least it needs to be logical to him.”

“Got it,” Robin said, watching his partner intently. “And I’ve got an idea. Just hope it works.”

“Harley Quinn is still somewhere in this studio,” Robin said to Batman, and he pointed to the sensors. “I have an idea to rout her out. You okay with that?”

“Okay,” Batman nodded, barely listening. “I’m okay. A little tired, but okay. You’re Tim, right? Not Jason.

“Jason’s dead.”

Robin frowned, then made himself smile.

“You’re right. I am Tim. I’m Robin. Your only Robin now. So listen, you said you’re tired, right? So I think you should rest a few more minutes. While you do I’ll find Harley and I’ll lead her to you. You’re the trap we’re going to spring. Are you okay with that?”

* * *

Batman’s thoughts began to clear, and with that came realization.

Robin thought of him as a hindrance. But it was true—he was tired. Too tired to go after Harley Quinn and stop her. Whatever Tim was trying to do, he could use the time. And Tim’s approach made sense.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m good with that. Where should I wait?” As he spoke, Robin lifted a grating embedded in the floor, exposing an underground passageway.

“Right here,” he said. “You’ll be able to follow her wherever she runs and she won’t even know you’re there. So we’ve got a plan?”

“We do.” He moved to enter the tunnel, then stopped. “And, Robin…”

Tim Drake paused, looking uncertain.

“What is it, Batman?”

“Take care of yourself. You’re important to me. And I care deeply for you.”

Robin smiled. “You’re important to me, too, Batman. And right now, you’re the most important man in all of Gotham City. We’ll fix the city. You and I.

“See you in a few.”

Robin locked Johnny Charisma in one of the booths on soundstage 37.

“Hey!” Charisma shouted. “C’mon, kid. You know you wanna hear another song. I got a thousand of ’em, each better’n the one before.”

Robin left without responding.

He thought about his next move. Henry Adams had been viciously clubbed by Harley and was probably dead. That left two others—Al Rogers and Christina Bell. Robin hoped they could still be saved.

There was the mysterious final victim, whoever he or she might be. Batman had never revealed the identity of the person. Robin had never seen him, but if Harley had taken three prisoners, there was no telling how many still survived.

He found Rogers hiding in the theater wing. He must have watched the Johnny Charisma show from this box high above the stage. He tried to resist, but Robin calmly sprayed him with sleep gas. Rogers was a victim, not a criminal. Unless there was no alternative, Tim wasn’t going to hurt him.

He found Christina Bell hunkered in the Panessa commissary, sitting on the floor behind a counter, leaning against its massive triple-sized ovens. In its heyday this commissary had fed hundreds of employees, actors, and studio bosses. But those days were long gone. The gas line into the studio had been shut down more than a decade earlier, and now its ovens and refrigerators were little more than slabs of rusted metal.

When Robin found her, Christina was using a plastic knife she’d picked up from a counter and was busy trying to cut into her own wrist. He found slice marks up and down her arm, most of them bleeding, but fortunately she hadn’t yet penetrated a vein. To protect her, he tied her wrists together behind her back, then locked her in a cell down the hall from Rogers. He didn’t know if they could cure her from the Joker’s blood infection, but at least she wouldn’t be causing herself any more harm.

So now he just had to find Harley Quinn.

* * *

For many years Harleen Quinzel was a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, considered by most to be the best on their staff. Extraordinarily empathetic, she strived to fully understand her troubled charges by imagining herself in their place. She spoke their language, and her patients very quickly came to trust her.

But she was then assigned to find a cure for the Joker’s madness, and her life changed forever.

His particular brand of insanity wormed into her mind, and then her heart. His love for violence became her own. She’d spent a lifetime trying to help those people who had been hurt, some time in their past. The Joker convinced her it was far more fun to hurt them even more.

Harleen Quinzel disappeared, and in her place there was Harley Quinn, a clown, a jester, a harlequin, and above all, a remorseless murderer. If her mentor was deemed irrevocably insane, she wasn’t all that far behind him.

* * *

Harley held onto the bloody baseball bat Batman had seen her use on Henry Adams, gripping it tightly with both hands when she heard Robin enter the studio’s power room. She knelt behind one of the massive generators that had been used by film productions so many years ago.

Everything went silent, which meant Robin was standing inside the doorway, probably trying to figure out where she was hiding.
This way, boy
, she wanted to say, but the Joker always told her it was best to hide in silence.
Don’t give them any warning before you bludgeon them to death.
Harley liked that word, “bludgeon.”

It sounded so messy.

She heard footsteps coming her way, and tightened her grip again.
The stupid brat won’t know what hit him.

But then the footsteps stopped. She waited for them to start up again, but they didn’t.

What are you waiting for, boy? I got a bat, you got a head. It’s time they said hello to each other.

Silence.

What do I do? What do I do?
He had to be only a few feet away. She could jump out and start smashing everything in sight, and if she was lucky she would take him out. Of course, it might also give him a chance to fight back, but a good bat to the face had a way of stopping most people.
Certainly a brat like Robin.

Hell
, Harley laughed silently.
He isn’t even the first Robin. He’s, like, the third. How good could he possibly be?

Harley leaned out, but couldn’t see past the generator casing. If she leaned out any further he’d spot her. So she backed up again and waited—held the bat over her head, ready to bring it down hard if the brat saw her.

No movement.

No shadows.

Nothing.

This isn’t fair!
She was beginning to sweat.
You gotta be there. So let me kill you and get on with it. I mean, everyone gets to kill a Robin eventually. And today it’s my turn.
She held her breath and waited some more.
Maybe he left the room? Maybe he thought I wasn’t here. Maybe I’m hiding for no reason. My bad if that’s true.

Harley craned her neck but still didn’t see him.

He left. I’ve been hiding and he isn’t even here anymore. Gosh, I’m almost happy my Puddin’ is ashes. If he saw this he’d take the bat to
me.

She was nervous and her hands shook, but she eased her way out from behind the generator, ready to spring and kill the kid fast as she could.

But he wasn’t there.

She stepped out of hiding, relieved, and lowered her hands—they were covered with sweat. She put down the bat and rubbed the sweat on her leggings.

Then she saw his shadow, on the ground covering her own, growing larger. He was above her and coming down fast. He’d crouched on the generator, waiting for her to move, and he jumped the moment she rested.

She grabbed the bat again and swung it without thinking. It hit Robin under the chin and sent him flying back. She thought about using it to smash in his face, just for frightening her, but if he regained his footing she’d be no match for him in hand-to-hand fighting.

So she ran.

* * *

Robin cursed himself and followed. He’d thought he had her, and allowed himself to get too cocky.

She ran through the kitchen, puffing loudly as she passed the front entryway, heading toward the soundstage. From there she’d find the door that led outside. Her car would be waiting, and she’d be gone. They’d have lost her.

He followed her and hit the message key on his comm.

Robin prayed Batman not only got the text, but was ready to act.