About seven minutes before the big countdown, many thousands of people, both physically in attendance and watching from the safety of their living rooms, shall witness the dapperly dressed mayor approaching the main podium, positioned close to the massive digital display. Leaning in to the cluster of microphones, he announces a very special message
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Comments 52
"Huh."
She's a tiny desert island of calm in a sea of screaming.
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John just watches the screen, a slow smile spreading on his face as everyone running and panicking at the news that nothing would be done to them. There will probably be dozens injured in the stampede and the Joker didn't have to do anything but say 'hello'. That's damn impressive. John gets the joke, and he laughs.
"Care t'get away from the noise before the police move in t'make it worse."
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"Man, who is that guy?" But she's got John by the arm and is ducking down a narrow little alleyway before anything else can happen, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water.
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"That, sweetness, is the Joker. Most feared man in Gotham, as I hear it. Quite a feat in greasepaint."
He laughs, maybe one of the only ones doing so as they push their way into an open cafe. Everyone else is fully fleeing the square, so it isn't exactly crowded.
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Eyes wide, he looks to Walter and Dr. Drake. The police can deal with checking for explosives -- they'll have to, they wouldn't just let a kid, or a guy in an owl costume, go at it -- but the people... "Dr. Drake, didn't you say you came with someone?"
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"Yes. Yes. My daughter..." She's just going to go looking for her, in a bit (a lot) of a panic, because. Well. Because Gotham. Not that she doesn't trust her godfather as capable enough to take care of Molly. She does.
She does not, however, trust this crowd.
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He looks at Daniel, with just a glance to Dr. Drake. She's an inconvenience right now. She's in the way of them getting anything done. Not that they ever do much good... No, he can't think like that.
"One of us should get up to one of those balconies. Get an aerial view."
He flicks on the walkie-talkie in his pocket.
"The other can stop fights, help the fallen, help clear the area."
The high ground is yours, Daniel. Bad ankle, and all.
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He catches Dr. Drake, before she gets too far. "Doctor! Tell us what she looks like and we'll look for her."
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He clicks back over to the video window and watches the clip, again, with a bit more focus. Then he opens up a new document and gets to typing, with the movie and flashing IRC screens in the background.
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"Are you fuckin' kidding me..." the Irishman grumbles under his breath, just before a panicked crowd member knocks what would have been a dearly cherished beer bottle from his grasp. It crashes to the ground. He utters a long, put-upon sigh. He'd only just confiscated that, too.
It's time to do the policeman thing, then. Yeah, yeah, calm down all you mangy American cows and listen to the flaily-armed man with the badge. "Now everybody keep calm and exit in an orderly fashion--" Or not.
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He doesn't seem to be fleeing, either. Instead, he's talking into -- a walkie-talkie, and scanning the crowd, as he climbs backwards up a fire escape ladder.
Well, that isn't suspicious at all.
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Ray pushes through the crowd--erk, sorry guy he just elbowed in the stomach--toward that strange man on the fire escape. "Hey, you there!" he yells as he approaches. Whether the man can hear him over the shrieks of the crowd is anyone's guess, but perhaps the uniform is eye-catching enough?
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It would be stupid to run, and even more stupid to try and do anything to the cop. So -- he raises his hands, and drops a couple steps down the ladder in a more experienced way than a guy that nerdish should be able to (though his face does twist in pain a little).
"I'm trying to help!"
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His worst fears have been confirmed. The commissioner knew the Joker had gone missing after the Arkham escape and had eluded all police forces so far - something he was terribly and frustratingly skilled at. And something in the back of Jim's mind had been telling him that they would all be hearing from the clown very soon. What better time than New Years Eve to make a public address?
Seconds after the image comes to life, Gordon speaks into his walkie - to anyone who might be listening - "Find out where he is broadcasting from. Now!" Then he listens, and as soon as the Joker disappears he's back on his radio, emphasizing any and all attempts at crowd control. The growing panic is spreading like a forest fire. Jim scans the thousands of windows looking down on the square.
Where is he?
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True to his word, our buddy Chuckles seems to have nothing else to say to the public here and now. No explosions, no gunshots, no further programming glitches, no obvious clues laid out like a trail of Reese's Pieces for the boys in blue- no, wait, strike that last one.
It might take a while for anyone to notice, given the current circumstances, but there's definitely something strange going on in one of the apartment windows just above Freddie's Music here in the Square. There's somebody leaning there, and they haven't moved at all since the mayhem began.
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If it weren't for the festive floodlights that have been sweeping across the square since nightfall, he wouldn't have seen it at all. Something catches his eye, high above the frightened masses, but quickly disappears into the shadows. He waits for the floodlight to make another pass and upon getting another glimpse, makes another call on his walkie. No response. He understands that his officers on duty are unquestionably busy at the moment, but what he doesn't get is why no one will radio back.
Throwing one more glance at the window, Jim moves through the crowd, hoping he'll run into somebody useful.
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Maybe Gordon should take one more look, and hope that no one else has.
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