Batman Arkham Knight (26 page)

* * *

Harley Quinn made it to the soundstage, and headed for the exit door that was on the other side, against the brick wall.

Crouched under the grating, Batman watched as she ran toward him, constantly checking behind her and looking very worried. Robin had to be close. When she was less than three feet away, he pushed up the steel grate and held it firm. Still checking behind her, she ran straight into it, and fell back in shock.

Robin came sprinting into the room, but by the time he reached them, Batman had tied her wrists behind her.

“It’s time to talk, Harley,” he said. Time had been to his benefit—he felt steadier, and was pleased to note that his voice reflected it.

“I got nothing to say to you, freako,” she spat back. “My lips are mum.”

“Have it your way,” he said. They marched her toward the cell room where Robin had put Charisma, Rogers, and Bell. Just outside the closed door they saw Henry Adams slumped in a chair, holding his chest, blood still seeping from it. A long smear of blood stretched across the tile floor, indicating where Adams had crawled.

They walked toward him, and his eyes flickered open.

“Thank God. Thank God. You found the psycho,” he said, his voice weak and shaking. Robin extended a hand and helped him to his feet.

“We’ll get you to a hospital,” he said. “You’re gonna be okay.” He turned to Harley. “You keep trying to kill people, but you keep failing. Maybe you should take up another line of work. Arkham Asylum could use a good librarian.”

“Kill him?” Harley tried to twist free. “Hey, he was one of my Puddin’s chosen. Why would I kill him? Hurt him, sure. But kill him?”

“Shut up, Harley,” Batman said. “We’re tired of listening to you jabber.”

Harley laughed. “Me shutting up, and you saving Gotham City, two things that’ll never happen, Bat-freak.”

“Robin, open the door to the cells, please,” he said. “But be prepared.” Robin opened the door, and gasped. Christina Bell, Johnny Charisma, and Al Rogers were sprawled on the floor, lying in pools of their own blood.

They weren’t moving.

Harley Quinn gasped. “Oh, no. No. No!”

Batman turned to her. “Interesting,” he said. “That was genuine. You didn’t know.”

“Know what?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

Batman calmly turned to Henry Adams. Robin was still helping him to stand.

“You killed them, didn’t you, Henry?”

Suddenly Adams grinned broadly, then snapped his fingers. Harley stared at him incredulously. Recognition dawned. She jerked free from Batman, and ran to his side.

“You recognize me, even in this bodybag, don’t you, Harley?” Adams said.

“Hey, I’d recognize that smell of homicide anywhere. But Honey-Puddin’, why’d you bash ’em? They’re your soldier boys. They’d do anything you wanted.”

Henry Adams’ face began to change. His smile widened. His lips seemed redder. His wide face appeared to contract and hug his skull tighter. His hair was starting to take on a bright green tint.

He was becoming the Joker, with all his twisted memories intact.

“Sometimes, Harley,” he said, laughing, “a man’s gotta kill what a man’s gotta kill.” He wiped the blood from his neck and chest, and used it to paint a full Joker smile on his face.

“Honey, I’m home,” he said, and he laughed loudly. Harley squealed in delight. Then he took out a gun and twirled it on his finger, like a movie cowboy. Abruptly he stopped, aimed it at Batman, then Robin, who tensed and looked as if he wanted to spring. “Don’t. I’ll be killing you soon enough. Like I killed that brat. That’s how I’m going to kill everyone in your life. You down with that, Bats?”

“Adams, you’re not the Joker,” Batman said. “You don’t have to be him.”

“Au contraire, Batman. The other guy led the way, but he was more interested in sparring with you than having fun. I’m gonna show him what a real lunatic can do.”

As he stared at Batman, he gestured his gun toward Robin.

“Go. Join your little friend over there. By the way, he’s wearing long pants now? Good move. Those itty-bitty green shorts were getting a bit long in the tooth, if you ask me.” He gestured again. “Now
move
.”

As he began to comply, Batman saw Christina Bell shaking. She wasn’t dead—not yet. So he turned to Adams and called to him, hoping to distract him. If she was alive, there might be a chance he could still protect her.

“Henry,” he said loudly, “you were infected with the Joker’s blood. It’s turning you into him. But it doesn’t have to. We can find a cure. We can make you
you
again.”

“Now why would I ever want to be that boring waste of flesh?” Adams said, still holding the gun on them. “Been there.
Sooo
done that. He was weak, so weak. But you know how it is in nature. No matter how many obstacles get put in the way, it’s the strongest who always survive.

“Hence me.”

He started to glance back at the cells, but Batman called to him again.

“The Joker was always after me. I’m your prisoner. Let them go. You have what you really want.”

“Oh, Batty, Batty Bats—that was
so
one body ago. You’re much too low on the food chain for the new, improved me. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right: The strong survive.” He circled Batman and stepped back toward the cells.

“Still, you know what they say about evolution?” He kneeled by Christina Bell and placed his gun to her head. “Even amoebas evolve.” Before anyone could move he pulled the trigger and her head exploded. “By the way, Bats. Good try. I saw that little twitch, too. This should teach her a lesson she won’t soon forget.”

Harley screamed in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

Adams grinned. “Purifying the gene pool.”

The Joker appeared beside Batman, once again wearing the wide-brimmed hat and his aloha shirt. He glared at Adams and smiled, then turned to Batman.

“I never truly realized how amazingly handsome I am,” he said, pointing at Adams. “Not until now. But did I hear him insult me? Obsessed with you, Bats? Me?
Really?
” He turned to Adams, who still held his gun at the ready.

“I am not obsessed with that flying rodent, you third-rate copy,” he said indignantly. He turned back to Batman and smiled. “Can you imagine my confusion here? I’ve always enjoyed sparring with you, but I must admit what he said bothers me.
Gosh oh tooti.
I don’t know which side to root for.”

Adams moved closer and put the gun to Batman’s forehead. His finger played with the trigger.

Robin tensed again, but Batman motioned him not to move. Frowning, Tim obeyed.

“Well, at least it’s been educational,” the Joker said. His eyes went back and forth. “Adams. Batman. Adams. Batman. Who to cheer? Who to mock?” He turned to Batman and laughed.

“I’ve changed my mind, Bats. I’ve seen the light.” He looked at Adams and shouted at him. “Kill him, pretty boy. Kill. Kill.
Kill.
Do it. Do it. Do it!”

Adams pressed his gun against Batman’s left temple. Then he saw Batman’s face begin to change, even as his had, and moved back a step. Batman’s lips curled into an involuntary grin. Then he began to laugh—but his laugh was louder than Henry’s, more obscene.

Adams lowered his gun. “Now that’s unexpected.” He turned to Harley with a look of surprise. “Did you see that coming?”

“Puddin’ pie, what’s going on here?” Harley reached out to Adams and took his hand in hers.

Adams grinned. “Don’t you get it? I’m not the alpha Joker. I mean, I knew Bell, Charisma, and Rogers certainly weren’t. At best they were stooges. So I thought, well,
I’ve
got to be the alpha, the one intended to take over the family business.

“But I see I’m wrong. Very wrong. It should have been obvious. But,
duh
, my bad.” He studied Batman, who was still laughing without reason, then he stepped back and bowed to him. “You are going to be spectacular.” Turning, he gave Harley a kiss on her forehead. She beamed at him.

“Knowing you was the best thing about today, Harley,” Adams said. “But with the alpha in place, there’s certainly no need for a lowly omega.” Suddenly Harley tried to grab his hand, but she was too slow. He held the gun to his own head and fired.

His face exploded as the rest of him spun to the floor.

* * *

“No. No. No. Not again,” she cried. Harley was in tears and she fell beside him, cradling his dead body. Batman took her hand and smiled to her.

“I’m your Puddin’ now.”

She stared at him, trying to decide what to do. She wiped away her tears then smiled at him, and gave him a hug.

“You sure are, pretty boy,” she said, and she grinned mischievously, all else forgotten. “So tell me, exactly when can I take a peek at that incredible six-pack of yours? Skinny was real good to me, but you and those abs are really a turn-on.”

Batman returned her smile, pushed her into the last empty cell and locked the door behind her. “When hell freezes over,” he said.”

* * *

Robin stared at Batman, unable to hide his shock.

“Your eyes. You, you’re—”

“The last Joker? I know. I’ve known for a long time. But before I’m unable to control my instincts, I need to stop Scarecrow. Once I’m done, though, I swear I’m locking myself away. Or you’ll have to do it for me. Tim, I won’t let myself be a danger to anyone.”

“But what if you fail? You’ll be too dangerous. I won’t be able to stop you.”

“I’ve trained you to stop evil any way you have to. I expect nothing less when I’m the one being stopped.”

“
No. No. No.
” The Joker stood next to Batman. “Now that I’m finally you, I won’t let you put us behind bars.”

“If you don’t want that, maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.” Batman walked into one of the empty cells and closed the door behind him. “I’m still in command,” he said. “You don’t control me.”

“C’mon, Bats. Get out of that cell. Can’t you see how much fun you and I will be? My demented mind. Your steroid-enhanced muscles. We’re a match made in chemical heaven. ’Sides, you won’t be able to refuse me forever. I’m going to be all over your free will any time now. So just give in to me. It’ll be so much easier on both of us.”

“Not going to happen, Joker. I will never be yours.”

“The only thing that ‘never’ applies to, Bats, is your ability to fight destiny. Oh, and my tainted blood. There’s no cure. No hope. No stopping me now.”

“There are other ways I can stop you.”

“Sure, there’s always the Henry Adams way. And I have to admire that—it took guts. His guts. But here’s something you need to think about. You put a bullet through that bullheaded brain of yours, and then what happens to Robin the third? Who’s gonna protect him? I mean, without you, he goes the way of guess who?”

* * *

Jason Todd. He was there, on the floor in front of Batman.

The Joker was standing over him, crowbar in his hand. He raised it, brought it down with a brutal impact, again and again. Then he turned to Batman and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Now Timmy’s made of sterner meat than Toddy, but even he can be tenderized.”

Batman stared at Jason, dead on the floor. He blinked his eyes and he was gone. He was still standing outside the cell, Robin at his side. It was another damned hallucination.

He was losing all control.

He turned to Tim, who had no idea what he was seeing.

“Tim,” Batman said, his voice almost whispering the name. He grabbed Robin’s hand and pushed him into an empty cell, then quickly locked it. “I’m so sorry. But this is for your own good. I’ve got to protect you… from me.”

“Batman, what are you doing?” Tim shouted. “Let me out of here. Batman!”

The Joker walked over to Batman and put his arms around him.

“A man after my own heart,” he said, and he giggled. “And once you fully change, you’ll have that and everything else. By the way, I brought you a present.”

And there was Jason Todd again, sitting on the floor, a spotlight shining on him as if from heaven itself. He was alive, but tied up in ropes. A gag prevented him from talking.

“Jason? But he’s…”

“Dead?” the Joker said. “In the real world, maybe. But not in your head. Go. Talk to him. Reminisce about the good ol’ days, when both of you were sane—more or less.”

Batman started to untie Jason when the Joker pushed him away, a crowbar suddenly appearing in his hand.

“That’s long enough,” he said mockingly. “We don’t want things to get mushy now, do we?” He swung the crowbar like a baseball bat, slammed Jason with it, and knocked him out of the light. The Joker laughed and followed, but the spotlight moved with him. A sheet appeared in front of him—he pulled it aside with a flamboyant tug. Jason was under the sheet, straining at his bonds. The Joker leaned into him and gestured toward Batman.

“I’m not the villain here, you know. Batface is.

“Speaking of faces,” the Joker said, and he held out his hand. A branding iron appeared in it, glowing red hot. He twirled it, then slammed it onto Jason’s face, burning a vivid “J” into his cheek. Jason screamed and writhed while Batman could only stand and watch.

“Oh, quiet down, Toddy,” the Joker laughed. “If anyone asks, you can always say the ‘J’ was for Jason. If they’re stupid enough, they might even believe it.” He looked at Batman and shrugged his shoulders. “Who’d think getting your initials branded into you would cause such a ruckus.”

Jason was holding back his screams even as his flesh was still sizzling.

“You know, I actually meant to ask you a question first, and use the branding iron later, in case I needed an incentive,” the Joker said. “But I got it backwards. Being dead and having your ashes flushed into the Gotham River has played havoc with my attention span. I do apologize.”

Jason was writhing on the ground. The ropes were gone, and his hands were free, He was whimpering in pain. Batman wanted to go to him, help him, but he couldn’t move.

“Anyway, what’s done is done. So, if you don’t mind my doing this out of order, I’ll ask my question now.” The Joker leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. “What is Batman’s secret identity?”