Code Purple Finale: Snap

===GCPD===

 

A pale man sat in the lock-up; his dark, chestnut-coloured hair thinning; his cheeks hollow. He watched as the policemen paced outside, barking out indecipherable orders at one another. Kept in a cage, isolated, and ignored, it was the only thing he could do. Watch. With glossy, glass-like round eyes, like an owl's. His fingers fidgeted, but his gaze never left the officers. "Gotham's Finest." His jailors. His captors. He'd been caged before. In Blackgate. In Arkham.

 

But that suited him just fine. He liked watching.

 

The door to the interrogation room swung open; Batman stormed into the room, his black cape billowing behind him, and without a spoken word to his green-haired prisoner, he slammed a tray of gingerbread men onto the metal table.

 

Joker eyed them up, a fleeting hunger in his eyes, then he slouched back in his chair. "No, thank you, I already ate,” he smiled. “But by all means, you go ahead! They’re homemade! Well, not my home, but that Swedish couple were very gracious hosts! Oh, you’ll like this; I used melted dark chocolate to make your little boots and cowl, thought it matched your inherent bitterness! I have got to give you the recipe!” he resolved, with all the enthusiasm of a mid-western house-wife.

 

“Why Walker?” Batman cut him off, his white eyes narrowing, his closed fists resting on the table.

 

Joker’s green eyes contracted slightly. “Why, Batsy, are you jealous?” he pried. "Should I be jealous?"

 

“He's been through enough,” Batman warned.

 

“Oh, I know. Dreadful stuff. And just think, you could've stopped Ra's years ago if you weren't so busy sleeping around with his daughter. You old fox, you! Always the ones in leather catsuits, Mrrrrrw!"

 

Batman’s jaw clenched, an instinctive response to Joker’s taunts.

 

"Yes, I know- The ol' 'Broke-Bat Mountain-Man' told me all about that nasty business between you two, in graphic detail actually... and there I was, wondering where the latest brat had come from! The sword should've been the giveaway, I suppose... When's his birthday, again? He must be 14, 15 now? Maybe I'll send him a card! Ooh! Maybe I'll send him Roger! Maybe I already did!"

 

“Enough. My people can take care of themselves.”

 

“All evidence to the contrary… Or are we side-stepping that little playdate in Ethiopia? Heh. Stop me if you’ve heard this one: A robin walks into a bar… A- heh. A crowbar- Ahahahaha-"

 

POW. A sudden blow to the face knocked Joker off his seat and he landed on the cold concrete floor face first. Before he had a chance to turn around, the door was already closing. Joker rolled onto his back, clutching his bloody nose and cackled: "When you change your mind, come find me! I'm not exactly going anywhere! Heh. Heheh. Ahahahaha!”

 

~-~

 

Just a few doors down from the interrogation room, a supply closet had been converted into a makeshift war room; Drury was sat behind a folding table, his butt planted on a plastic chair, reading through the GCPD records on the Outcasts Case; Batman now stood in the corner, his arms folded, his black cape draped over his shoulders; Gordon was chewing on a stick of nicotine gum and Chase was pacing back and forth around the room, a task made difficult by the room's narrow footprint; a fact that clearly added to his irritation.

 

"So, it was all a set-up?" he asked, running his hand through his dark hair.

 

"Appears so," Batman said stiffly, hiding his bloodied fist inside his cape.

 

"So, what do we do now?" Gordon pondered.

 

"Nothing," Chase answered. "He has no bargaining power, not without his bomb. We keep him in a secure wing, then we wait until we get the all-clear to send him to Slabside."

 

"And the hostages?" Batman disapproved.

 

"If we're lucky, we can negotiate with his partners. The Scarecrow's a smart man with a broken body, he'll surrender. He doesn't have a choice," Chase replied, an implied forcefulness behind his suggestion.

 

"Nuh-uh. We follow through."

 

The trio looked at Drury; he had finished reading and had now pushed a neatly stacked pile of police records to one side.

 

"He kept his end. Let's keep ours."

 

"Drury, with all due respect-" Chase attempted to dissuade his client.

 

"Look, the bomb was a fake. But we don't know if the next one'll be. Or the one after that. Or the one after- He's not going to stop until he gets what he wants: Me. And Zoom, Pirate, the rest... They'll tear Gotham apart. You know they will," he added, locking eyes with Batman. "Unless we comply."

 

“So I'm doing this. Not for me, but for the people he'll harm if I don't hand myself over. You of all people should understand that.”

 

A thin, involuntary smile broke across the Batman’s lip. It could have almost been mistaken for pride.

 

The Interrogation Room

 

Drury sat at the end of the table. He was shaking slightly, and against his wishes, his foot kept tapping the ground. He thought of the Misfits, his kids, Gaige… And though he was certain they could take care of themselves… He remembered that he had thought the same thing about Len.

 

Len.

 

He had been imprisoned in Arkham for over a month now, and Drury hadn’t even realised. ‘Stupid. You unperceptive, stupid ass!’ Yet through all his anxiety and stress, through his self-doubt and self-loathing, one thought repeated itself over and over; a stupid, frankly immature thought he seemed unable to get rid of:

 

‘This is one rotten Christmas.’

 

Behind the glass, in a utilitarian observation room, the Lawyer, the Cop and the Bat watched with bated breath, as the clown was escorted in on a metal gurney; the blood had been washed off his face now, but his nose jutted to the right at an unnatural angle. “This is a bad idea," Chase chastised Gordon, his arms folded in disapproval. Gordon smiled grimly and Batman immediately understood why; it had been a while since they had a DA in their ranks.

 

Joker took his place at the opposite end of the table, his pupils dilating as they locked with Drury’s.

 

And then he started talking.

 

“So! How's the wife?”

 

Silence. All remaining colour drained from Drury’s face, and he stared back blankly.

 

“Funny. That killed at the country club! No, sorry, I killed at the country club,” Joker explained. He scanned Drury’s face for the slightest hint of a smile, of amusement, of anger at the very least, and sighed disappointedly at his complete lack of engagement.

 

"Oh, come on,” he protested. “Don’t go all pouty on me now, we moved past pouty! Character development! Completed arcs! Doesn't any of that matter? I gave you time to eat away your sad, teary-eyed problems, even laid back while you sought out Fu Manchu! Where is Ming by the way, he stole my favourite tea pot!"

 

Drury exhaled sharply. "I'm just a game to you, aren't I?"

 

"No! No, not at all!” Joker promised with false sincerity. “Well, yes, I mean, I suppose you are. The truth is, you're one of my favourite hobbies. Putting on my slippers, falling into my armchair, pressing play on the DVD player, a plate of Kit-Kats by my side.

Love Arkham's new filing system, I have to say! All digital! I bought myself a new laptop as an early Christmas prezzie, and I've been having a lot of fun burning as many interviews as I can find. I call them my Moth Stories!"

 

"Don’t. You sent Julian and King of Cats and Zoom. You kidnapped Len, threatened my friends, and- And I know you bought Krill. You pay him to bring back Carson too?" Drury demanded answers.

 

Joker smirked at the accusation. "Actually no, that was pure happenstance. I really thought he was gone for good. But, when life gives you lemons, you have to squeeze the juice into your enemies' eyes... That’s the funny thing about all this, our dear little Arkham-Lite really did just want her daddy back. Of course, I poked the hornet’s nest a little, you set him up with the Calendar Man, and well, sparks are gonna fly!”

 

Again, nothing from his scene partner. This was not quite the reunion Joker had hoped for. "Oh, come on, give me something to work with, I get enough angst from that one, give me something fun!" The clown hissed.

 

"Fun? Fun?! My- My wife's dead," Drury said, aghast.

 

"Oho, and don't I know it," The clown whistled, turning to an imaginary camera, and adding under his breath, "Tch, doesn't everyone."

 

"You know, so is mine," he continued, "But I've never let it interfere with my social life. Mind, that may be less to do with the grief counselling, more to do with the very real possibility she was a figment of my imagination.... You'd be surprised how often that happens! Well, maybe not that surprised," he said, clicking his tongue loudly. "Bonkers."

 

~-~

 

“This isn’t working,” Chase murmured into Gordon’s ear. “We’re getting nowhere.”

 

“Batman?” Gordon waited for the Caped Crusader’s viewpoint.

 

Batman didn’t turn around, his eyes still fixed on Joker. “He’s stalling…” he murmured.

 

~-~

 

“Why me?” Drury asked bluntly, his fists clenching and unclenching in quick succession.

 

“Why not?” Joker shrugged. “You’re what he’s not.”

 

“And what the hell does that mean?”

 

Joker scoffed. The World’s Greatest Detective, he was not. Oh, well, he always knew Drury was a bit of a ‘fixer upper.’ “It means it’s time to up the ‘anti,’ my little profiterole.” Joker bared his teeth, casting his eyes upwards at the clock. “What do you think? Four seconds?”

 

"What?"

 

Joker leaned forwards, and winked, mouthing a countdown. And then it struck Drury.

 

"WE NEED TO EVACUATE RIGHT NOW-"

 

Batman, Chase and Gordon spun around: Standing behind them, Hunter Zolomon raised a hand in the air, and with a single snap of his fingers, it was all over.

 

The resulting shockwave reverberated across the precinct: Gordon and Chase were thrown backwards; Gordon struck the side of the wall and was knocked unconscious; Chase rolled over the table and smacked the floor. Batman got it the worst though; he went flying through the glass screen; if not for his armour, he’d have been torn to shreds. Before losing consciousness, he tapped a dial on the side of his gauntlet, then collapsed to the ground. Drury was thrown off his seat, as his ears started ringing, he scanned the room for any sign of movement. Nothing. Then he looked over at the other end of the table and his heart stopped: the gurney had fallen over, and it was empty.

 

~-~

 

“Krill. Krill, what’s going on?”

 

Abner Krill rose from his bed, nursing a heavy headache, and walked over to the right side of his cell, peering through the bars; between the klaxons and the screaming of soon-to-be dead police officers, he figured it was futile to try going back to sleep. Next door, Carson was whispering at him frantically, demanding an explanation. Krill elected to ignore him, instead casting his eyes to the man standing before him, dressed in a yellow suit adorned with red highlights. The cell door whirred open, and Zoom dropped a parcel at Krill's feet. The man smirked as he strapped the red belt around his waist, once again imbued with inter-dimensional power. "Fuckin' took you long enough,” he muttered, swallowing once he realised Zoom cared alarmingly little for his commentary.

 

"Which is not to say I'm not grateful."

 

~-~

 

Drury looked up; Joker was digging out a shard of glass that was two inches deep in his knee. He had an expression that seemed more inconvenienced than pained.

 

"And they say shiv-arly is dead!" he chuckled to no one in particular, waving the shard around like a knife. “Quickest DoorDash I’ve ever had! Impeccable service! Five stars!” he clapped patronisingly. A sudden flash of lightning signified Zoom’s return, and Drury instinctively ducked behind the table, an admittedly futile effort.

 

Zoom, cocked his head to one side. "Druryyyyyyyy. Isee you Druryyyyyyyy."

 

"You don't... You don't scare me," Drury lied, crawling over broken glass and splattered blood. “Either of you.”

 

Zoom shook his head, taking slow but purposeful steps forward. "Iamnot heeeeeeeeere to scaaaaaaare you Druryyyyyyyy. Iam hereto teaaaaaaaaach yooooooou,” he pledged, placing an assertive hand around the shoulder of Drury’s tattered orange jumpsuit. With all eyes on Drury, no one noticed Adrian Chase slip away.

 

~-~

 

Now fully suited up, Krill punched through a vending machine, and started helping himself to the contents. Then, a gunshot rang out.

 

A man in black, with white boots, red goggles and a blue "v" on his chest, was pointing a pistol at him. Krill frowned. ‘The fuckin’ audacity.’

 

"Can't get a moment's rest, can I? Which one are you, then?" he yawned with complete indifference.

 

"Vigilante,” the man warned. The gun stayed aimed at Krill’s polka-dotted forehead.

 

"Fuck off," Krill chortled. "You lot run out of names?"

 

The gun went off; but Krill was quick; a portal came between him and the bullet, and a second one redirected it into the Vigilante’s knee. Krill smirked, hopped over the incapacitated vigilante, and continued on his way.

 

 

~-~

 

Zoom sped on ahead while Joker pushed Drury along in his own gurney, stopping to point at the occasional dead body or to sing a limerick. As they approached the cell block, Joker propped Drury up against the wall, picked up a flashlight, and ran it across the bars of Carson’s cell. Carson, leapt to his feet, snarling.

 

"Kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" he swore, sticking his hands through the bars and swiping at the clown.

 

"Mm. Who are you again? Kidding! Kidding, it begins with a B, doesn't it?" Joker smirked.

 

At this, Carson let out an animalistic, guttural roar. “YOU’RE ALL FUCKING DEAD!”

 

Joker stuck out his bottom lip in a show of false despondency. "Oh, dear Theodosia, what to say to you... You know what it's like, it's like missing out a season or two of your favourite TV show. You say "Oh, it's dragging on a bit, I'll just skip forward until it picks up again," Then suddenly, bam! The wife's dead, there's a dozen new characters, the city has a crater in it- and they didn't invite you to the musical- even though you killed Hamilton. And also killed Hamilton. Hill, that is. It was one of my campaign promises; I ran for president. You remember that don't you, Drury. Course you do; you endorsed me.”

 

"I didn't endorse you,” Drury said emotionlessly.

 

"But you didn't not endorse me either!" Joker giggled, squeezing his cheek playfully

 

A green portal opened, and Krill stepped through, his arms full of various oddities. “Believe these are yours,” he stated, handing Joker a large crate of confiscated goods.

 

“Wonderful!” he chirped, as he began filling his pockets with knives, playing cards and chewing gum. As he did so, Carson yelled out once more.

 

“Dead! You’re a fucking dead man! You and Krill and Walker, and-"

 

“Halibut you keep your hands to yourself, kiddo!” Joker warned, waving his fish around like a pistol. “Your father and I are talking!”

 

Carson flinched for a second, then stepped back from the door.

 

“Whaaaat about hiiiiiiiiiim?” Zoom asked, gesturing to the final occupied cell on this block. A bald man was stood by the bars, peering over at them.

 

“I don’t think he wants to play with us anymore, dear. Ah, kids today...” Joker sighed regretfully. “But don’t you worry, I’ve already found the perfect understudy!”

 

~-~

 

A pale man sat in the lock-up; his dark, chestnut-coloured hair thinning; his cheeks hollow. He watched as an orange portal opened, and four men emerged from the amber light; as the Joker stepped forward and sprayed acid across the lock of his cell door.

 

Joker held up a boxy, black mask, a circular lens affixed to the front, and smiled broadly. "I spy with my little eye..."

 

As Drury lay in the gurney, surrounded by monsters and madmen, one thought came to the surface:

 

'This is one rotten Christmas.'

 

Done