#27: The Remains (Burchette / Mihajlovic)

She walked alone on the streets, her dirty brown overcoat flapping in the cold winter wind. Her head was down, her brown paper package tucked neatly under her left arm. The snow was coming down and swirling all around her, and she couldn’t help but note that as white as it was in the air, as soon as it touched Gotham’s streets, it seemed to turn instantly brown. Detective Montoya wasn’t surprised at all. In the short time that she had been here, she had learned that everything in this city turned dirty rather quickly.

“Give me your purse and the paper bag, lady, and you won’t get hurt.”

Renee stopped at the young man in front of her. “You’re actually going to try and rob a cop?” She was genuinely surprised at the entire situation.

The thug did hesitate for a moment, unsure if she was telling the truth or not, but the burning in his body, for the drugs that would make him feel better, overrode any common sense that he may have had.

“Cop or not, you can bleed just like the rest of us, unless you hand it all over.”

“Okay, fine, just don’t do anything stupid,” she said as she slid her purse from over her shoulder. “Here, hold this for a second,” she asked as she started to hand him the bottle in the paper bag.

As he reached for it, she swung it into the side of his face, causing it to shatter and for him to squeeze the trigger on his gun. Montoya was lucky that he stumbled back as the gun went off, and the bullet missed her by half an inch. She took the advantage she had given herself and kicked the gun out of his hand. She struck him twice in the face with her fists, and he fell to the ground, dazed.

“Please, no more, I surrender,” he begged.

She picked up his gun and aimed it at him. “Just stay where you are, buddy. You’re under arrest.” She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911. As she gave the respondent her location, she heard the laughter echoing off the sides of the building. Her blood froze, her voice left her, and she turned slowly to see him standing behind her.

“Well that initiation just blew in so many ways,” The Joker said as he strolled forward, the tails from his purple tux flapping in the breeze. “How unlucky for him that he actually picked one of Gotham’s finest to mug. I guess that joke was on him.”

“What do you mean, initiation?” she asked him, reclaiming her voice, and leveling the gun right at his forehead. Her world had just turned surreal.

“Nobody joins my False Face Gang without proving their worth. It’s old school, I know, but don’t you think that this world would be better off if we went back to the old ways?”

“Don’t come any closer, Joker! You’re under arrest.”

“I’m under… arrest?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, you slay me!”

As he threw his hands up in the air, a small pellet struck Renee in the shoulder, and before she knew it, she was lying on the ground, her body refusing to do as her mind was screaming for it to.

The Joker pulled out his own gun and looked down at her. “I despise failure. There’s just no room for it in the New World Order.”

BAM![/b]

The Sedan turned the corner on two wheels, the tires squealing in protest as it was pushed to the limit.

“My God, Detective! I want to get there in one piece,” Commissioner Gordon bellowed.

“Sorry, Sir,” Crispus mumbled as he took his foot slowly off the gas. He could hear Bullock in the backseat, mumbling, but didn’t know what he was saying, and really didn’t care, either.

As they pulled up to the crime scene they could see the ambulance and rescue truck already there, and the body being covered up.

“No…” Allen whispered to himself.

Bullock was the first one out of the car, and, for his size, even Gordon was amazed at how fast he could move when he wanted to.

“What the hell happened?”

“It was The Joker,” came the voice of Renee Montoya as she sat on the back of the rescue truck, a paramedic checking the dilation of her eyes.

Detective Allen let out a sigh of relief. When he had heard an officer was down, he had feared the worse. Seeing her alive was a gift. In the short amount of time that they had become partners, he had grown to like her not only as a partner, but as a person, as well.

“The Joker?”

“Yes, Commissioner. The guy being carted off was trying to mug me.” She then proceeded to fill them in about her experience. When she finished, she couldn’t help but note the glance that Gordon and Bullock had given each other. “The whole thing was really bizarre.”

“How is she?” The Commissioner asked the paramedic.

“Whatever poison he injected her with seems to have dissipated, but we really should take her in for a full examination. Anyone who’s lived here long enough knows that The Joker’s concoctions can have some nasty side effects.”

“But I’m feeling…”

“Just do it,” Gordon ordered.

“I’ll go with her,” Detective Allen offered as he climbed into the back of the emergency vehicle with his partner.

As both the ambulance and the emergency vehicle drove off, Bullock cursed under his breath. “What the hell is going on?”

Gordon shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. The Joker we know would have blown Montoya away as well as that hood.”

“The Joker we know wouldn’t be out recruiting for a gang.”

It was reported in the local news that Oswald Cobblepot had come out of the coma he had been in, after being shot by mob boss and ex-District Attorney, Harvey Dent; known now as Two-Face.

Cobblepot was in police protection and had guards stationed around his room at all times. Not one nurse was allowed in with him, unless one of the officers was with them. Gordon, himself, had ordered this, and it was being followed to the letter.

The man, who was called Penguin by many of his associates, didn’t have much to say to the authorities once he had come out of his sleep. He didn’t know why Two-Face had attacked him. The guy was certifiable. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

After the third day off the ventilator, his doctor had come in to discuss with him what exactly had happened, and what the lasting effects could be. By the time Dr. Talbert had left, Oswald had fallen into a rather large depression.

He lay there that third night, unable to sleep at all, when the door opened. He expected to see his night nurse and the guard walk through. What he saw was a shadowed figure, back lit so that his features were hidden. But the silhouette was unmistakable, and he knew right away who it was.

“Ozzie, my old friend. Long time, no harassing.”

“Joker…” Cobblepot said.

The Clown Prince of Crime closed the door behind him, and, as he did, The Penguin saw the arm of one of the police officers, lying on the floor. The goose bumps he had grew goose bumps.

“Of course! I was in the neighborhood and just had to stop by. You poor little man, all shot up like that. What was Harvey thinking?’ The Joker said, placing his hands on his hips with mock sadness. “It just isn’t easy to find good business partners these days, is it?”

“What do you want, Joker? I’m in no mood, at the moment, for your mind games. If you’re here to kill me, just do it and get it over with.”

“KILL YOU?! Why heavens no, my friend. I’m just here to see what I can do for one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

“When were we ever friends?”

“Oh, come now, my little bird buddy. What about that time that you, me, Riddler, and Catwoman hijacked that submarine and tried to hold Gotham ransom. If it hadn’t been for Bats and the boy blunder, we might have gotten away with it, too.”

“What are you talking about? That never happened.”

The Joker thought for a moment. “Didn’t it? I guess you’re right, maybe it was just something I dreamed. Come to think of it, Catwoman didn’t really look like herself at all. Anyhoo, your old friend, The Joker, is here now, and ready to help you in any way I can.”

“First of all, I don’t need your help; second of all, your help always comes with a very high price, usually in the form of mass death and destruction.”

“Oh, pish, that was the old me! I’m a new man, now, and I’m here to give you exactly what you need.”

“And what do I need?”

“Well, my sources inform me that The DEO has frozen all your accounts while you are under investigation. You have no way of rebuilding that wonderful little club of yours; you know, the one that was blown up by your last business partner,Two-Face. Did I mention how hard it is to find good business partners these days?”

Oswald ignored him, but The Joker continued. “I can get you the money that you need, my friend. I have connections now that could even make a penguin fly.” He broke out into hysterical laughter at that last comment. Cobblepot waited until he was done before speaking.

“I don’t even want the damn thing anymore. I just want to be left alone.”

“Saaay, you seem a little down in the dumps. What’s the matter, chum?”

Oswald didn’t want to say it, especially not to the homicidal maniac that was standing at the end of the bed, but he had nobody in his life, and the human desire to talk to somebody overrode his common sense.

“It appears, my pasty-faced friend, that one of the bullets lodged near my spine, and the surgeon was unable to retrieve it, without great risk to my life. As of now, the doctor does not believe that I’ll be able to walk again.”

“Huh. Well that sucks the big penguin egg, doesn’t it?” Joker stated. “So what, you’re just going to give up?”

“At the moment, that seems to be the plan, yes.”

“Oh come on, Ozzie! You built an entire friggin’ empire without breaking a sweat! I mean, let’s face it, when it comes to actual physical work, you rank right up there with K-Fed. So you’re in a wheelchair. Big whoop! You still got that brain of yours, and that’s what got you where you are today. Well… where you were before your partner decided to turn you into Swiss cheese. Boy, it’s really hard to find good business…”

“… partners these days! Yes, I know! I know! So what happens if I agree to accept your generosity? What do you get out of this?”

“Oh, probably a favor, somewhere down the road; you never know when my men and I may need a place to lay low. And if we build the new place with some special added features you might be able to make some extra cash by keeping certain people safe, when the heat is on. You know what I mean?”

The Penguin considered the proposition, studying The Joker the entire time. Something was different about him. Something was slightly off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Still, the offer was tempting…

The door to the room opened and a rather large nurse came barreling in. She stopped at the sight of The Joker, her eyes growing wide. She raised her hand, stuttering his name as she pointed at him and began to back out of the room.

The Joker sighed, pulled out a small pistol, and shot the nurse in the forehead. She fell over dead.

“I suppose I’ve worn out my welcome. Stupid cow, don’t you think the two dead guards outside would have been a tip off that something was wrong?” The Joker rolled his eyes in disgust. “What is wrong with people these days? Well, think about my offer and I’ll get back to you in a couple of days. Oh, and please bear in mind that if you mention any of this conversation to anyone, we’ll have to kill you. Toodles!”

Oswald watched him leave, stepping on top of the dead nurse as he made his exit.

“Get up, Dent! Your attorney is here,” the guard at Arkham said as he unlocked the doors to his cell.

The man called Two-Face turned, a look of genuine shock on his face. “This late?”

“Hey, don’t ask me. I was just given the okay and told to come and get you. You going to come quietly, or am I going to have to put the chains on your ankles as well as your wrists?”

Two-Face smirked. “Please, if I wanted you dead, you’d be six feet under already.” He offered his wrists, which were chained, and then he allowed the two guards to escort him to the meeting room.

When he entered the room, the man who was claiming to be his lawyer was standing, waiting for him. His fedora was pulled down low over his face, and the collar of his trench coat was pulled up, hiding most of his face.

“Leave us,” the man stated, and Harvey Dent knew instantly that, whoever this was, it wasn’t his attorney. Still… he was intrigued…

The one guard leaned over and whispered to the other who gave his partner a shocked look, but then shrugged and followed his buddy out of the door, giving the two men in the room one last look before closing the door behind him.

“Who the hell are you?” Harvey demanded.

“An old friend, Harvey.”

“Name’s Two-Face; Harvey Dent is dead.”

“So was I; I got better, so can you.” Making sure that his face was away from the camera hanging on the far ceiling, he took off his hat and revealed his face.

For the second time in less than an hour, Two-Face was shocked into silence.

“What?” the man said. “No welcome back for your old friend, Rupert Thorne?”