Yes, but the car...

Jim Gordon had seen his daughter Barbara off to classes, in her biker leathers much to his chagrin, and had just walked into the forensics labs. He looked over the hospital report… Oswald Cobblepot was in critical condition after running out into the street this morning and being hit by a car. But the hospital couldn’t account for a half dozen broken bones in addition to the car crash injuries. Now he had to find out if they could tie the bird to the restaurant shoot out last night.

“Commissioner!” one of the Lab techs said as Gordon walked in.

“Relax,” Jim said looking around, “Who is working on the mob restaurant murders?”

“Over in the corner,” the tech pointed, “They brought in a few people to help from the State labs.”

“Thanks,” Jim said, “What are you working on?”

“Trying to get DNA results back for a sexual assault case.”

“Make sure you get it right so the right person gets punished,” Gordon half smiled before walking off.

Jim walked back to the tables with the piles of firearms and gathering of forensic specialists. They all stood up and straightened out as the Commissioner of the Gotham City Police department came walking over.

“Ok,” Gordon said, “Lets start with the big question, how confident are we that there are no outstanding firearms from the incident last night?”

“Very,” one of the techs said, “With the exception of this one, we have already gotten matches. Sadly this one will haunt us as the lingering doubt.”

Gordon looked down at the mangled 1911 pattern pistol on the table. It had been crushed and the barrel and slide bent in together making it impossible to shoot and get samples from it to test against bullets recovered.

“But since it is the only thirty-eight super loaded with Extreme Penetrators, we are very confident,” another tech said.

“But we can’t know for sure,” Gordon asked.

“No,” was the collective agreement.

“So, next big question,” Gordon asked, “What are these?”

Gordon pointed at the machine guns.

“Rogaks,” one tech spoke up.

*

“What’s a Row-Gack?” Knox asked.

“Well it’s not an actual Rogak,” the Tech said as she grabbed some fries, “Rogak has been out of firearms since the 80’s. But it is a Rogak.”

“That doesn’t clarify anything,” Knox said.

“You ever hear of a Steyr Ghee-Bee?” the Tech asked.

“No,” Knox said as he took a drink of his soda.

“You have heard of Glocks,” the tech stated.

“Of course,” Knox said, “Pistols, right?”

“Yes,” the tech said, “OK, Glock is the new Austrian gun company. Steyer is the old Austrian Gun company… let me put it this way; during the Civil War, the Union bought Colts and Remington’s while the Confederates sent people to Europe to try and buy Styers.”

“So they have been around for a while,” Knox observed.

“Right,” the tech said, “In the 80’s the Austrian Army announced they wanted new pistols. And Steyr put together a nifty pistol they called the GB.”

“And?” Knox asked.

“The Austrian Army bought the Glock pistols instead,” the tech shrugged, “Well then Steyr took their GB to the US army pistol trials in the 80’s”

“Didn’t the Army buy Berettas?” Knox asked.

“They did,” the Tech said, “So, Steyr went about setting up to try and sell to the next biggest market, the US commercial market. But before they could get them out, a guy named Rogak got a hold of the technical data and started making really cheep knock off. He marketed them under his name, but when people went to the gun shop and saw the Steyr’s they confused them for the garbage Rogaks that were already on the market here in the states.”

“How did Rogak beat Steyr?” Knox asked trying to wrap his head around the stated timeline.

“Steyr was importing, Rogak was a domestic producer,” the Tech said, “Which do you think is going to have an easier time with the red tape here in the US?”

“Ok,” Knox as he took a bit of his pastrami sandwich.

“Since then,” the Tech said, “A Rogak is both a cautionary tale and a term for a horribly made knock off of a much better firearm. In this case, we have Rogaks of Lexcorps entry into the Army Next Generation Machine Gun program.”

“Army Next Generation Machine-gun program?” Knox said with his mouth full.

“The arsenal was designed in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s,” the tech said.

“A’la-ow…” Knox started talking with his mouth full but stopped and swallowed before continuing, “A lot has changed since then.”

“Right; extruding’s, 3-d printing, accessories… it has all changed a lot. Now someone is making a cheep hackjob of Lexcorps high end machine gun and putting it in the hands of thugs.”

“If these are that bad,” Knox started.

“They still managed to kill a lot of people about as soon as they opened fire,” the Tech countered.

“Hmmm,” Knox said before leaning forward, “I have to get to the news room.”

“Ah, not with mustard breath,” the Tech said, “Brush your teeth and come to my apartment tonight.”

“I will!” Knox smiled.

*

Barbara was sitting on Kara’s lap as they watched Patsy trying on a stage outfit that the studio sent over for Freaks of Gotham to alter.

“So how did you like Gotham?” the owner of the store asked.

“I actually liked it,” Patsy said, “Granted I didn’t have as bad a time as some people do.”

“Joker has been locked up from what I heard,” Barbara said.

“What’s up with the Joker?” Patsy asked, “What does the average Gothamite think of him?”

“Some people claim he should get the death penalty,” Barbara shrugged, “I don’t know about that, but I agree he is evil.”

“My cousin thinks he is going to start the great revolution,” One of the shop clerks said as she opened a box of boots.

“What revolution?” Patsy asked.

“How should I know, she got scholarship to go to college and is now a he…” the shop clerk with the boots shrugged, “I got a job.”

“Young Socialists,” another shop clerk rolled his eyes.

“How many people has he killed?” Patsy asked

“Who knows,” the clerk with the boots said, “Over a hundred.”

“Then why aren’t people outraged that he is sitting pretty in Arkham and not on death row?” Patsy asked.

“I got this,” Babs smiled, “He is a special serial killer. Most serial killers target what are called ‘the less dead,’ prostitutes, homeless, druggies, the dregs that live on the fringe of society and vanish without any killers on the loose. Joker targets the parasites.”

“The parasites?” Patsy asked.

“Kind of hard for people to get upset when a serial killer goes around killing Drug Dealers, mobsters, and uber rich investment bankers that make their money off of everyone else’s hard work,” the store owner finished the line of thought.

“Going around killing gang bangers makes you a little bit popular in some circles,” the clerk with the boots noted.

“Joker taking on Dagget?” the Store owner said, “People cheered on the Joker because Dagget is a rich asshole. Frankly between Joker and the Gargoyle rumors crime is down in Gotham City for now.”

“So what would it take for the people of Gotham to turn on the Joker and demand he hang?” Patsy asked seriously.

“Why do you ask?” Kara asked.

“I want to know,” Pasty said, “It seems like he is tolerated, but what would it take for the people to turn on him?”

“Honestly?” The store owner said, “If the Joker started attacking just random people in Gotham, kids or targeted the Waynes.”

“Right,” Pasty said looking at Barbara and Kara.

“Oh honey, we don’t say that because of present company,” the Clerk with the boots said as she brought them over for Patsy to put on, “Bruce Wayne, Sorry to say this Kara, is an idiot, but he is the most kind hearted idiot that the city has ever seen. He gives without any thought of asking anything in return. For my prom, some of the girls were living in a homeless shelter, and when he gave a talk about how Wayne Charities helps people a girl asked if he could help them out. So Bruce says that isn’t the sort of thing Wayne Charities does and pulled out his phone and hired Channel to make them all prom dresses that year.”

“I remember that,” Kara chuckled, “Alfred was like what the hell is this on the credit card bill.”

“And that is why if anyone fucks with the Waynes,” the Store Owner said, “Gotham will turn on them in a heart-beat. The only one Gotham formed a lynch mob for in the last hundred years was Joe Chill.”

“Who’s Joe Chill and why would Gotham want to lynch him?” Pasty said as she worked to put the thigh boots on.

“Joe Chill was the man who murdered Bruce Wayne’s parents,” Barbara said, “He would have gotten the death penalty if it weren’t for the thirty-eight super ghost.”

“The Thirty Eight Super Ghost?” Pasty asked.

“Back in the forties,” Barbara said, “A pistol was brought into Gotham and used in a series of murders over the years, but police have never recovered it… My dad’s file on it is about a foot tall.”

“Ok,” Patsy said.

“At this point anyone trying to buy .38 Super Automatic ammunition in Gotham City gets a visit from the police,” Barbara said.

“Thirty Eight Super Automatic?” Kara asked.

“Yeah old round that fell out of favor,” Barbara said, “Better than the old nine millimeters or the thirty-eight revolvers, but not as powerful as newer rounds.”

“You know I heard a rumor,” the male shop clerk said, “The Joker was the kid with Joe Chill the night he killed the Waynes. I can imagine what would happen if that turned out to be true.”

“Once we get the measurements you can be on your way to have dinner,” the Store Owner told Patsy, “Trust me, even crap from a street cart here is better than airline food.”

“I already know that,” Patsy rolled her eyes.

*

While a section of the cave had been turned into a sort of ‘movie room’, Alfred had put his foot down in refusing to allow them to put a popcorn machine or anything like that in the cave. So Kara took the elevator down from the pantry to the cave with a big bowl of popcorn.

“How can you eat popcorn while watching that?” Bruce asked as he went over forensic reports.

“Well as far as a psychological horror,” Kara shrugged as she tossed a kernel into her mouth, “It is more riveting than ‘Silence of the Lambs’ was.”

“One,” Bruce leaned back and turned to Kara, “Hanibal Lector is a fictional character and two, the Joker is much more evil than any writer behind Hannibal could make that fictional character.”

Kara nodded agreement and looked over towards the trophy room as it was called behind Bruce’s back.

“I know what it did to your parents,” Kara said, “So why keep it? I could melt it down with my vision from here. I have a clear line of sight.”

Bruce stopped and put his hands flat on the desk behind the keyboard.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered doing that myself…” Bruce said trying to keep calm, “But sadly there are too many unsolved cases where that is the weapon in question.”

“So why not give it to Gordon,” Kara said, “He wouldn’t question why Batman got his hands on it.”

“No,” Bruce said, “That’s not it. The story that it was never recovered by the police is a lie. It was recovered by GCPD three times in the past. And three times it ended up back on the street to kill again.”

“Oh…” Kara said, “I’m going to go watch Arkham Infirmary with Babs, ok?”

Bruce nodded.

Kara walked off and joined Barbara on the love seat in front of the screen.

“Did you ask him about it?” Barbara asked.

“Yeah, he said the police had it at least three times but it ended up back on the streets,” Kara whispered, “I once heard Alfred say that Bruce keeps it in case he ever has to commit suicide, he goes out by the same gun that took his parents.”

“As long as he has that, anyone with a thirty-eight super is a suspect,” Barbara said.

“I think he can live with that,” Kara shivered.

Barbara grabbed the remote control tablet and hit play, the screen in front of them filled with the image of Doctor Crane sitting next to the Joker in a full body cast in the high security section of Arkham’s infirmary.

*

“I understand you have been pestering the nurses,” Doctor Crane intoned.

“Do you know how hard it is to scratch my nose?” Joker said, “The nurses are acting like I would try to bite them if they scratched my nose for me.”

“You have in the past,” Doctor Crane said as he opened his notebook.

“Oh right,” Joker started to chuckle.

“Now, you do understand that the State is considering filing a motion for you to be transferred to federal facility. Do you have anything you want to put in a formal statement?” Crane ask.

“Yes,” Joker said, “I refuse to go to a federal facility, I demand to go to a Confederate facility!”

Doctor Crane just glared at his patient without saying anything. Joker tried to shrug as much as he could with his arms and torso all in one cast.

“Fine,” Joker said, “I will agree to the transfer in so long as I get a back of Cheetos each day.”

Crane wrote something in his note book.

“Noted,” Crane said looking up, “Now about your arrest.”

“Arrest?” Joker tried to laugh, “That’s a joke.”

“You were brought in by Detective Sergeant Bullock and Detective Sergeant Harpper,” Crane said looking at his notes.

“They saw me on to the ambulance,” Joker said, “But they didn’t do this to me and I sure as hell didn’t do this to myself.”

“Well that is rather clear,” Doctor Crane noted.

“Stop me if you heard this before Doc, but mind if I rant like a crazy man?” Joker made a face.

“Ok, you had your Seinfeld moment,” Crane took a deep breath, “Lets hear your George Carlin monologue on the subject.”

“You know the rumors about the ‘Gargoyles,’ right Doc?” Joker asked, “Why are they just disregarded as rumors when we have flying men and others in cities across the world?”

“It is rather easy to get pictures of the so-called Wonder Woman or Superman,” Crane noted, “Not so much for ‘the Gargoyles,’ as they are called.”

“What do my injuries say about the big man?” Joker asked, “I would love to hear a profile on the leader.”

“My specialty is psychopharmacology,” Crane said, “My other focuses are disturbed individuals and phobias.”

“So which am I?” Joker asked, “Please tell me I am psychopharmacology!”

Crane didn’t say anything in response.

“Phewy,” Joker said at the wasted joke, “Well, the only pictures of them are of them hiding among the Gargoyles of the Gotham Cathedral. Not to mention dressed in their dark suits, with their pointy ears and big cloaks.”

“But you claim to have seen them up close. What have you seen?” Crane asked.

“There are a few of them,” Joker said, “A big guy is the leader and the heart of the pack.”

“A big guy?” Crane asked.

“One big man,” Joker said, “With a grey bat across his black chest.”

“A bat on his chest?” Crane asked.

“A graphic, a screen print,” Joker said, “What did you think? He was all Ozzy Osborne with a dead bat on his chest? He he he, that would be grand! Maybe the babes should wear one.”

“The babes?” Crane asked.

“Yes, three of them, the red and black one, the black and silver one, and the digital one. They are grown ups,” Joker said, “And then they are the boys, one of them hasn’t been around much since he grew up but there is a junior replacement for him.”

“Digital bat ‘babe’? I am sure Doctor Quinzelle would take umbrage with that description,” Crane shook his head.

“Hay, they might be ninjas dressed up in bat themed gargoyle costumes, but at close range it’s hard to ignore the mameries on those gals,” Joker said, “Especially since they highlight them with a big bat logo. It’s like they want us to shoot that bat honestly.”

“Shoot the Bats?” Crane asked clearly unsure how to handle the response.

“Yeah, that’s the colors, the silver one has a silver bat on her chest, the red one has a red one and the digital one has a circuit board from a computer cut into a bat shape and glued to her chest,” Joker saw Doctor Crane glaring at him, “This is going to be used as evidence that I’m crazy isn’t it?”

“No,” Doctor Crane adjusted his seat, “I think the judge is going to look at the fact you tried to pay for a waffle breakfast with fish.”

“Oh wow,” Joker tried to chuckle, “Doc has jokes!”

“You mentioned ‘ninjas’,” Crane said, “Care to elaborate on that?”

“Sure,” Joker said, “A Ninja is a term for a thief and spy in ancient feudal Japan…”

Doctor Crane closed his note book and glared at his patient.

“Party Pooper,” Joker muttered, “The reason no one has anything beyond the grainy Cathedral Gargoyle pictures is these folks are all stealthy, sneak attack, hide in the shadow types. That and they like to swoop in out of no-where and put a bag over your head and beat the crap out of you. I can tell you it is rather painful.”

“So they operate as ninjas,” Crane said.

“Yeah, and they use funky weapons. That along with the pointy ears on their hoods, spikes on their forearms and big wing like cloaks,” Joker said “And you have the Gargoyles hunting the criminals of Gotham…”

“And how do you feel about them?” Crane asked.

“Part of me is flattered that the Big Guy has taken notice of me,” Joker smiled, “But I also am feeling a lot of pain and an intolerable itch on my nose!”

Crane shook he head.

*

“If he masturbates over us,” Babs said, “I am throwing up in his cereal.”

“That’s rather catty,” Jason arched an eyebrow.

“I figured it would make Selina proud,” Babs chirped.