Tensing up immediately, Batman shot a sharp glance at the police scanner as it crackled for another few seconds and then went silent. He ran his gloved fingers over the Kevlar covering his thighs and sighed, looking over the darkened road in front of them, eyes dark and calculating. Without consulting Leland he readied the car and they sped down the street, heading towards the specified alley.
They were just passing the halfway mark when the scanner once again let out a voice -- this time, Gordon's.
"False alarm," he said, and Batman thought he sounded tired. He said nothing else. Batman was deciding whether or not to turn around when he heard Gordon's voice again, this time in the ear piece nestled in the right ear of the cowl. "Come to the station. We need to figure this out."
Just minutes later, Batman and Leland stood on the roof of the police station near to the remnants of the broken signal that still remained from when it had been destroyed. The rain had rusted the metal and the glass lay in jagged shards in a small pile, looking as if it had been hastily gathered and forgotten for months. They waited in silence for Gordon to ascend the stairs leading to the roof.
Commissioner James Gordon rubbed his hand against his moist forehead and looked one of his detectives in the eyes. He knew the answer to the question he'd been asked. However, he wasn't going to give it to the young, fresh detective. He couldn't.
"It wasn't the Joker. We identified him as some nobody thug. As for the style of the inflicted wounds, perhaps someone just has a sick imagination. Maybe an obsession."
"But-"
"I'm going to take a break. I'm not discussing this anymore."
He turned away from the younger man, letting out a prolonged breath of relief. His eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion and there were still many things that he had to take care of. One of them being his inevitable company on the roof.
No one really asked questions when Gordon slipped out the large metal doorway. Everyone had their reasons for going up on the roof. Some used it as a place to take a smoke break; others simply found relaxation and freedom from stress when they were closer to the heavens. After the complete desecration of the floodlight - or as some called it, the "Bat-Signal" - the chances of Gordon going up to the roof to speak with the wanted vigilante were pretty slim.
But that was in fact what he was going to do. He climbed the long metal staircase, feeling the harsh limitations of his age set in throughout his fatigued joints. His body just didn't exactly work the way it had used to. Still, he was glad that he was in better shape then a lot of the rookies on the force. It gave him a feeling of pride and accomplishment. A feeling he probably didn't deserve, given the current state of the city.
He opened the door. The black of the night shaded the open area in front of him; a sudden change from the bright lighting within the police station. He shut the door behind him and stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the city all around.
The man had a good feeling that his guest was already present.
"No worries, it was a slow night," Leland said, stepping out of the shadows where she and Batman were lurking.
If Gordon was surprised (and Leland assumed he had to be, since they'd never met before and to her knowledge, the Commissioner had no idea Batman was working with anyone), he didn't show it. The corner of his mouth twitched up, but that was the extent of a reaction.
"Is there a whole race of you now?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at Batman.
"I'm Batwoman," Leland said, with a nod at Gordon. She was finding it easier to automatically slip into what she thought of as a 'Narrows accent'. "Unless someone else is stealing the logo, there's only two of us." Unable to stop herself from asking, she blurted out, "So, it wasn't the Joker's body?"
Just asking the question brought a strange mix of emotions. The...elation she'd felt, the vicious, victorious joy at the idea of the clown being dead, it had almost frightened her. As had the disappointment when she'd heard Gordon declare it a false alarm over the scanner.
Gordon hadn't expected there to be two vigilantes waiting on the roof for him. It had surprised him even more that the voice that had answered him was that of a female.
"No," he answered her question. "Identification checks proved that it's not our man. He's a small time crook. Interesting fact - he worked at a comedy club, part time. That and he'd been known to do a few odd jobs for various crime rings. One William Jacobs."
He rubbed his mustache and turned to look over the rooftop, down at the slow-moving traffic vehicles below.
"I think someone's trying to tell us something. A sign."
He stuck a hand into the pockets of his overcoat and he fished out a plastic bag with some freshly snapped Polaroid pictures stacked inside. His gaze moved back to the dynamic duo of bat-people and he held out the evidence.
Having stepped out of the shadows shortly after Leland, Batman stood next to his female counterpart, far enough away to maintain his aloof appearance. He listened silently to Leland and Gordon talking, not terribly interested in inserting his opinion when he was merely formulating infantile theories. Their slight banter was little more than an annoyance to him, in the way of getting down to the real business that they were there for; he kept his annoyance at bay by mulling over the usual suspects in his mind. His first thought had been that the Joker did it himself to get some kind of sick sense of amusement. But Joker wasn't the Riddler, after all -- he was more likely to be blatant and boastful about his killings that to be as cryptic as this mystery killer was being.
Batman snapped out of his thoughts when Gordon offered the evidence, having only superficially registered the name and profession of the dead man. He took the plastic bag and opened it delicately, extracting the first gruesome photo with two fingers perched at the edges of it so he didn't leave any smudges. It was a snapshot of the face in which the jagged, bloody edges of the recently carved face were captured in all their stomach-turning detail. Indeed, even after all of the things he had seen throughout his life, Batman still had to look away momentarily and steady himself. He and Leland bent their heads over the picture, both observing silently for several moments. Batman took that opportunity to take a picture of the Polaroid with the small, high-tech camera built into the palm of one of his gloves. He did this with each of the Polaroids, which got less and less effective each time a new one was introduced until they became more tedious than shocking.
"It could be the Joker," Batman said, although he sounded thoroughly unconvinced. "He's supposedly traveling but that could be a lie." He glanced at Leland. "What's your take on it?"
Leland felt her stomach turn at each photo. The blood smeared across the corpse's lips like some kind of macabre lipstick was shockingly bright against the greyish skin. She'd seen bodies before. She'd had to identify more than one coworker at Arkham who'd been the victim of a patient's attack. She'd found a few of them herself. But it was always unpleasant. The dead man's face had been split open all the way up to his ears, his mouth gaping and lower jaw dangling. The term for it came back to her after a moment of thinking. 'Chelsea grin.'
"It doesn't seem like his style," she said, staring at a photo of the corpse's upper body, covered with contusions and bruises. "He'd leave some kind of calling card, make sure everyone knew it was him. Maybe someone's trying to send some kind of message to you or the police?"
Gordon sighed and shook his head with remorse. What was the world coming to? Things sure had changed since he was a fresh, young cop on the Chicago police force. Back in the glory days, brutal murders like the one they were now dealing with were something of a rarity.
"Guess they wanted something flashier than a phone call," he muttered, not really finding any comfort in his attempt at black humor. "You should check it out."
With that, he began to step towards the door that led back into the station. Just before he reached for the door handle, he turned back and stared at the two vigilantes with a sense of hope. Perhaps it was misplaced hope, but there weren't many people he could depend on anymore. They'd have to do.
"Also, you're a wanted man. Doubling your numbers is a little dangerous, wouldn't you say? Be careful out there."
His face wrinkled as he gave Batman and Batwoman a one-sided smile.
"... Now if you'll excuse me," he opened the worn and rusted door, "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee."
And with that, he stepped in, leaving the two heroes to their own fates.
If Batman was one to smile, he probably would have smiled at Gordon's comments, as weary as he sounded saying them. He retained his indifference after Gordon left, and turned back to Leland, unsure of where exactly to go from here; there was nothing left to research unless either of them had a particularly strong lead to go off of or a theory that had the potential to be tested right then and there. Or even that night at all.
"Should we go to the alley where the body was dumped? The GPD isn't famous for being thorough."
"It's worth a try at least," Leland said, nodding in agreement. She was still thinking of the Polaroid pictures of the body, covered in bruises, scraps, and cuts. It was like some kind of mosaic of violence, random and vicious. Except for the mouth. The cuts had been perfectly symmetrical, the blood carefully applied to his lips. It was the one detail the murderer had actually cared about.
"Batman," Leland said, "if this is someone trying to send you a message...what in the hell are they trying to say?"
Batman frowned, looking away from Leland. He fixed his gaze on a spot far away on the horizon and thought about his reply for several moments.
"They're trying to tell me that I can't stop them, whoever they are. That I'm just a man and Gotham's filth will take me over no matter what I do to cleanse the city of it. There will still be a man or woman who can commit atrocities right under my nose. Our noses."
He turned around again and stared at the late-night traffic below. "Let's go. We'll catch them."
They were just passing the halfway mark when the scanner once again let out a voice -- this time, Gordon's.
"False alarm," he said, and Batman thought he sounded tired. He said nothing else. Batman was deciding whether or not to turn around when he heard Gordon's voice again, this time in the ear piece nestled in the right ear of the cowl. "Come to the station. We need to figure this out."
Just minutes later, Batman and Leland stood on the roof of the police station near to the remnants of the broken signal that still remained from when it had been destroyed. The rain had rusted the metal and the glass lay in jagged shards in a small pile, looking as if it had been hastily gathered and forgotten for months. They waited in silence for Gordon to ascend the stairs leading to the roof.
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"It wasn't the Joker. We identified him as some nobody thug. As for the style of the inflicted wounds, perhaps someone just has a sick imagination. Maybe an obsession."
"But-"
"I'm going to take a break. I'm not discussing this anymore."
He turned away from the younger man, letting out a prolonged breath of relief. His eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion and there were still many things that he had to take care of. One of them being his inevitable company on the roof.
No one really asked questions when Gordon slipped out the large metal doorway. Everyone had their reasons for going up on the roof. Some used it as a place to take a smoke break; others simply found relaxation and freedom from stress when they were closer to the heavens. After the complete desecration of the floodlight - or as some called it, the "Bat-Signal" - the chances of Gordon going up to the roof to speak with the wanted vigilante were pretty slim.
But that was in fact what he was going to do. He climbed the long metal staircase, feeling the harsh limitations of his age set in throughout his fatigued joints. His body just didn't exactly work the way it had used to. Still, he was glad that he was in better shape then a lot of the rookies on the force. It gave him a feeling of pride and accomplishment. A feeling he probably didn't deserve, given the current state of the city.
He opened the door. The black of the night shaded the open area in front of him; a sudden change from the bright lighting within the police station. He shut the door behind him and stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the city all around.
The man had a good feeling that his guest was already present.
"Sorry to call you out so late."
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If Gordon was surprised (and Leland assumed he had to be, since they'd never met before and to her knowledge, the Commissioner had no idea Batman was working with anyone), he didn't show it. The corner of his mouth twitched up, but that was the extent of a reaction.
"Is there a whole race of you now?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at Batman.
"I'm Batwoman," Leland said, with a nod at Gordon. She was finding it easier to automatically slip into what she thought of as a 'Narrows accent'. "Unless someone else is stealing the logo, there's only two of us." Unable to stop herself from asking, she blurted out, "So, it wasn't the Joker's body?"
Just asking the question brought a strange mix of emotions. The...elation she'd felt, the vicious, victorious joy at the idea of the clown being dead, it had almost frightened her. As had the disappointment when she'd heard Gordon declare it a false alarm over the scanner.
Reply
"No," he answered her question. "Identification checks proved that it's not our man. He's a small time crook. Interesting fact - he worked at a comedy club, part time. That and he'd been known to do a few odd jobs for various crime rings. One William Jacobs."
He rubbed his mustache and turned to look over the rooftop, down at the slow-moving traffic vehicles below.
"I think someone's trying to tell us something. A sign."
He stuck a hand into the pockets of his overcoat and he fished out a plastic bag with some freshly snapped Polaroid pictures stacked inside. His gaze moved back to the dynamic duo of bat-people and he held out the evidence.
"Take a look at those wounds. Look familiar?"
Reply
Batman snapped out of his thoughts when Gordon offered the evidence, having only superficially registered the name and profession of the dead man. He took the plastic bag and opened it delicately, extracting the first gruesome photo with two fingers perched at the edges of it so he didn't leave any smudges. It was a snapshot of the face in which the jagged, bloody edges of the recently carved face were captured in all their stomach-turning detail. Indeed, even after all of the things he had seen throughout his life, Batman still had to look away momentarily and steady himself. He and Leland bent their heads over the picture, both observing silently for several moments. Batman took that opportunity to take a picture of the Polaroid with the small, high-tech camera built into the palm of one of his gloves. He did this with each of the Polaroids, which got less and less effective each time a new one was introduced until they became more tedious than shocking.
"It could be the Joker," Batman said, although he sounded thoroughly unconvinced. "He's supposedly traveling but that could be a lie." He glanced at Leland. "What's your take on it?"
Reply
"It doesn't seem like his style," she said, staring at a photo of the corpse's upper body, covered with contusions and bruises. "He'd leave some kind of calling card, make sure everyone knew it was him. Maybe someone's trying to send some kind of message to you or the police?"
Reply
"Guess they wanted something flashier than a phone call," he muttered, not really finding any comfort in his attempt at black humor. "You should check it out."
With that, he began to step towards the door that led back into the station. Just before he reached for the door handle, he turned back and stared at the two vigilantes with a sense of hope. Perhaps it was misplaced hope, but there weren't many people he could depend on anymore. They'd have to do.
"Also, you're a wanted man. Doubling your numbers is a little dangerous, wouldn't you say? Be careful out there."
His face wrinkled as he gave Batman and Batwoman a one-sided smile.
"... Now if you'll excuse me," he opened the worn and rusted door, "I'm going to go get a cup of coffee."
And with that, he stepped in, leaving the two heroes to their own fates.
Reply
"Should we go to the alley where the body was dumped? The GPD isn't famous for being thorough."
Reply
"Batman," Leland said, "if this is someone trying to send you a message...what in the hell are they trying to say?"
Reply
"They're trying to tell me that I can't stop them, whoever they are. That I'm just a man and Gotham's filth will take me over no matter what I do to cleanse the city of it. There will still be a man or woman who can commit atrocities right under my nose. Our noses."
He turned around again and stared at the late-night traffic below. "Let's go. We'll catch them."
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