The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout
While meeting with newly appointed GCPD Police Commissioner James Gordon, Batwoman is introduced to the Prince of Crime when a man calling himself the Joker appears on TV, killing a woman. Signs and clues begin to pop up and make sense as wealthy members of Gotham’s elite are targeted and begin to drop dead. Batwoman is officially introduced to the public and the world as Gotham’s personal hero when inmates from Williams Medical Center are released into the streets—but there are still no answers. When Breanna Wayne is targeted, Batwoman finally makes the right connections: but is she too late to save herself, and Gotham?
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Chapter 1: Laughing Man A
“In other Gotham news, Arkham Asylum will be reopening next month as a facility equipped to handle Gotham’s most dangerous and disturbed criminals, along with regular patients in dire need of extreme assistance,” the woman on the television screen reported. Batwoman barely spared the story a glance. It was under her advisement and Gordon’s help that Arkham was going to be up and running again. With the appearance of few criminals who seemed to be above average it was determined that the jail just wasn’t enough to hold them and keep the people of Gotham safe.
“I don’t like the looks of these deaths, Batwoman,” Gordon murmured under his breath. She shook her head.
“Me neither.”
They were looking over the photos and case files for a number of eerily similar deaths with no apparent connection other than how they died. With a horrid, twisted version of a smile on their faces.
“CSI got back and none of the toxin screens showed anything out of the ordinary, and background checks showed no connections to any of the crime families or underground.”
Breanna turned slightly to face the Commissioner better.
“Their deaths were random. There was no purpose behind them—just a serial killer playing with some new toys.”
The voice synthesizer she and Lucius had designed had needed a few tweaks to help also change the patterns of inflection when she spoke, now that she was unofficially working with GCPD.
“As much as I hate to say it, I agree. Now, what—”
He stopped as a commotion on screen distracted them both.
The reporter was giggling, laughing, her volume and intensity increasing. Other personnel from the news room tried to get her to calm down, someone even calling for an ambulance. Both James and Breanna knew what was about to happen but neither could do anything to stop it as they watched the poor woman strangle on nothing, her head falling onto the desk with a sickening thud.
Static took over the audio and visual feed until it was replaced by a dark room. One white spotlight came on, and in the light was a figure facing away. He wore a bright purple suit and seemed to have equally bright green hair.
Breanna stepped closer to the television as Gordon spoke into his radio about getting someone to hack the feed, find its source.
“Hello, people of Gotham,” a low voice chuckled. The man standing in the light slowly turned around. His skin was white—not the white of a pale person but the color of chalk or clown paint.
“Sorry to interrupt your afternoon report but I have some fantastic news you may want to be tuning in for.”
Batwoman opened up a compartment on her left arm where a small device connected her to the mega-computer in the cave at all times. She began typing furiously with the one hand, hoping that her pre-made algorithms would be enough to figure out at least the source of the broadcast.
“You see, Gotham has become such a dreary place what with all the people coming and going and being such obedient little worker drones, and the Bat spoiling people’s fun. So I’ve decided to give you a helping hand, and provide some fun! The first person to experience some fun is man by the name of Henry Claridge—some of you may know him! One of Gotham’s rich, I’ve decided that he will be the first to help you and I with our fun! See you soon! Ta ta,” and with that the feed cut to a cartoon-esque image of a clown with the man’s features and one word: Joker.
Batwoman turned around and started to walk out of the office.
“Batwoman! Wait!” Gordon called. She stopped and turned to face him.
“I’m sending some of my men to watch Claridge, I need you to head over to Arkham—they have something they was you to see.”
One of the orderlies who was set to officially start work the next month when the Asylum opened showed her through the winding halls. It was a dark and dreary place on its own little island, and Batwoman hated every second there.
They finally stopped in front of one of the larger cells being prepped for when they needed to hold someone with more than just a few mental problems. On the wall written in what could only be blood was “One by one, they’ll hear my call. Then this wicked town, will follow my fall.”
After taking some pictures and a sample of the material used to paint the cryptic message Breanna was back in the cave. While the tests were finalizing their results, she replayed the video over and over again. This “Joker” had done a good job, as nothing was visible in the footage except for him. Nothing that could pinpoint a location or motive or identity.
Right as the beeping from her machines alerted her to the tests completion she received and incoming call from Gordon.
“Yes?” She said.
“It’s Claridge. He’s dead—just like the reporter. There, there was nothing we could do.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She hung up before he could say anything more and walked over to the lab portion of the cave. It was to her frustration that none of the equipment had given any information. It was pig’s blood, but there was nothing in it pointing at a location or place of sale.
Breanna leaned back in her chair, the cowl hanging against the back of her neck and her eyes closed. Claridge’s body showed nothing but a sickening grin, and the toxin screens showed once again that there was nothing that should have caused the man’s death. As Breanna Wayne, she had vaguely known the man as an acquaintance. One of the smaller screens had news playing while muted but something caused her to look up. With a few swipes and quick taps the main screen was playing the main channel.
“New footage has surfaced from this man calling himself the Joker, this time threatening Jay W. Wilde. Viewer discretion is advised, but, wait, we’re getting reports in about—”
As the woman’s voice began to take on a panicked tone alarms began blaring in the cave. Batwoman pulled her cowl over her face, quickly pulling the ponytail her black hair hung in through its special opening, and was leaping into the car in seconds, already plotting the quickest route in her mind.
Inmates from Williams Medical Center, many of whom were scheduled to be transferred to Arkham once it was open, were somehow loose and roaming the streets of Gotham.
In almost 15 minutes she was leaping out of the car, sending it to a backroad on the outskirts of Gotham on autopilot. Gordon and some other officers were pinned down behind a barricade of police cars and she joined them. No one had noticed her approached and whispered curses and flinching motions were the sum of the reactions.
“About time you got here,” Gordon said without any real bite in his voice.
“How do they have all these weapons?” One of his men shouted in fear. Batwoman peeked over the hood of the car she was crouched behind and narrowed her eyes.
“Someone armed them, probably whoever helped them break out.”
Gordon nodded and popped back up to take a few more shots.
“We can’t just kill everyone. That’d be wrong and most of the inmates are there on fair terms.”
She nodded once and then vaulted herself over the cars. A few bolas went flying, sending the gun-less inmates to their knees and sides. A smoke pellet here and there gave her enough shadow to function, and show she was going hand-to-hand with five different people at once. Three of them held pocket knives in both hands, and her costume’s armor was taking the brunt of it. The other two were holding baseball bats with the same stylized clown that seemed to have become the Joker’s symbol.
A high round house kick, a low flip, a sweep of her legs, an elbow in someone’s gut, a series of punches, and the five were lying on the ground in various stages of consciousness. Breanna headed towards where a group of inmates had cornered some of the guards and workers of the Medical Center just inside the front door. She listened to the police’s comms with half of her brain as she threw two batarangs, taking out two of the attackers. A few lucky shots from both a knife and few fists and that group was down as well.
By then the smoke she had started had dissipated and as she led the frightened but otherwise unharmed people out into the street she was swarmed by journalists and reporters. The police had everyone under custody or receiving medical attention, and James pushed his way through the shouting crowd to stand next to Batwoman.
“Quiet! One at a time!” He shouted. Breanna desperately wished she could disappear but there were too many eyes on her to do so.
“Batwoman,” a reporter from the Gotham Gazette spoke first.
“Batwoman, what powers do you have?”
She didn’t respond, just chose to look at the next reporter,
“Why now? Why are you terrorizing the streets of Gotham and fighting criminals only at night?”
Batwoman took a split second before speaking.
“I was not ready before now. And bats are nocturnal creatures.”
She looked at the next reporter, one who’s eyes were wide and hands trembling.
“Um, B-b-batwoman, ma’am, where did you come from?”
Batwoman waited a beat and stepped back, smoke pellets already loose in both of her hands.
“Gotham,” was her only reply as she let them fall. She said a silent apology to the Commissioner as the people closest began choking. She stepped back and melted into the newly created shadows.
“I found a lead, Gordon,” she said. Driving back to the Manor she had called him. After it was established that there were no hard feelings she went back to business.
“Ace Chemicals Processing Plant has had a few select products go missing in the past month. I’m going to investigate.”
Gordon sighed over the phone.
“Alright, just let me know what you find. Jay W Wilde was just threatened, you know.”
“I know,” she said and then hung up.
Once back in the cave she began to strip. The black cape came off first, draped over the back of her chair. Dark grey material covered her in similar fashion to a wet suit from neck to wrists to ankles, with layers over her torso, upper arms, thighs, and calves made of Kevlar and other materials. Her cowl was connected to the main portion of the costume with a small slit for her hair to be tugged through, and after going through the necessary motions so as to not shock herself she pulled it off. She took each piece of armor and costume and laid it out on a table just for that purpose before turning to face Alfred, who had walked in during the process.
Under the costume, she wore a sports bra and compression shorts, and her skin was littered with bruises, some fresh scars, and plenty of spots where she was bleeding from. Nothing was too serious but she still allowed her butler to clean and bandage what needed it. Nothing needed to be stitched this time and she quickly went upstairs to her personal wardrobe.
“What is it to be now, miss? A costume event downtown?”
Breanna rolled her eyes as she pulled on the plain grey pencil skirt and equally boring matching blouse.
“I need to find some things out at Ace Chemical’s, the plant on the west side. I can’t do that as Batwoman so I need to disguise myself as an inspector.”
“Understood, miss. Which vehicle will you be taking?”
“I’m going to need you to drop me off somewhere downtown and I’ll take a cab the rest of the way. It’s time for their inspection anyway.”
During the drive to Gotham proper, Alfred had the radio turned on and Breanna groaned, putting her head in her hands, at the news.
“So back to our breaking story, Gerald. It appears that Batwoman does indeed exist and is not just an urban legend or some phantom prowling the streets at night. Commissioner James Gordon had this to say on how GCPD will move forward.”
There was a bit of a pause as sound source transferred, and then Gordon was speaking.
“Batwoman has proven that she is willing to work alongside the police at times. No innocents are hurt and no one is killed, so there’s not much ground to keep hunting her. I for one believe that it could potentially be a beneficial partnership between us at GCPD.”
“Thank you, Commissioner Gordon. Now on to our friends at the Daily Planet, to hear some outside-of-Gotham opinions on our confirmation of Batwoman’s existence.”
Breanna leaned forward and turned off the radio with a sharp clack of her new fake nails on the dashboard.
“I would have thought this would be a momentous occasion, a time to even celebrate, Miss. Why the distress?”
“Because, Alfred,” Breanna shifted in her seat, looking out the window, “part of my goal is to make the criminals of Gotham fear me. People fear the unknown, the monster that lurks in the shadows and the dark, and I can’t be that person if I have an interview on Good Morning America and prove that I’m a regular person.”
Alfred didn’t say anything else, just nodded and “hmmed”. In no time they were parked in an alley between some convenience stores and diners. Breanna got out and quickly put on the cheap blue sweater over her outfit and adjusted the fake glasses that covered half of her face.
“I should be back here in a few hours. Feel free to go do other things, don’t just sit here the entire time.”
She closed the door and walked around the car as Alfred rolled down the driver’s window. She looked down at him as he spoke.
“Oh jolly, there’s some motion pictures I’d been hoping to have some time to go see. If you need me miss, I shall be unavailable.” And with that he drove off. Breanna grinned and shook her head before turning around and walking towards the closest major intersection.