Date: Sun, 18 Sep 1994 16:01:30 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "Jason R. Tippitt" Subject: Dark of Knight, Parts 5 and 6, reposted with revisions ************************************************************************ D A R K O F K N I G H T ************************************************************************ Jason R. Tippitt, 1994 A Highlander/Batman Crossover Warning: The Joker, Up To Tricks Again Part 5 ******** Garrett took Jason to the soup kitchen where he took all his (solid) meals and got the kid some lunch. The buzzing in Jason's head had faded for the most part, and having food on his stomach (hard to believe it had been five years) made him feel even better. The mission folks let him shave and shower, and a homeless lady in her fifties trimmed his hair. "Five years. Wow," Jason said as he and Garrett made their way back 'home.' "I lost track of time...not having any light made it damned hard to keep track of anything. I wondered if I was in hell." "The underworld looks a lot different, trust me. And not much has changed while you were gone. There are still good people, and then there are the ones who make you wonder why the gods even bothered." The two Immortals stepped around the corner into Garrett's alley and found a group of Skinheads gleefully watching Garrett's box go up in flames. "Hey, looky here, it's Crazy Garrett hisself," one of the Skins said to his fellow thugs. "Hey, Grandpa, you've been evicted." The gang of thugs advanced, each carrying either a tire-iron or a handgun. Garrett drew his sword from beneath his filthy trenchcoat. "Knaves, thou hast gone too far. Prepare to pay for this desecration." Jason desperately looked around for a weapon of some sort. /*He says they can't kill me...Bruce trained me not to take chances, and I see now where not listening to that got me./ His eyes fell upon what seemed to be the handle of a broken hammer, and he grabbed it as the first shots rang out. ******* Duncan paced back and forth in his padded cell. [At least they didn't try to put me in a straitjacket.] He chuckled at the thought of that; a lot of things were making him chuckle lately. The Highlander had seen a lot of horrors in his life. The cholera, the nerve gas strikes in World War II, his village massacred, the bodies of the people the Joker had slaughtered earlier this evening...just to name the more recent ones. Arkham Asylum seemed to put everything else to shame. A man with a skeleton glowing through his skin; another with a body that seemed to be made of clay; and in the cell next to him, the criminal called Two-Face. Quentin Stone would have fit in perfectly in Arkham Asylum. {I AM HERE, MACLEOD. RIGHT INSIDE. WHY DON'T YOU LET ME COME OUT AND PLAY WITH THE OTHER BROKEN CHILDREN?} Duncan slammed his fists against the walls of the cell. [Damn it, Joker, when I get out of here...] ******* Jason looked around, making sure that the last of the thugs were gone. He'd been shot twice, leaving flesh wounds that had already stopped bleeding. Garrett hadn't fared so well--but if he'd told Jason the truth, the chest and head wounds shouldn't keep him down for long. /Why aren't the police responding? Wait a minute, Jason, this is Gotham; the thought of two gangs wiping each other out would just make the cops smile, thinking their job was going to be that much easier./ Garrett murmured something in a language Jason didn't recognize. "Are the bastards gone?" he asked a moment later, sitting up. "Yeah, I kept fighting after you went down, and then they either ran out of ammo or got scared." The two poked around behind several storefronts, looking for a new box for Garrett. Garrett also hit the liquour store and got a couple of bottles of cheap vodka. By sundown, Garrett had set up a new "home" a couple of blocks from the old one, near the harbor. ******* Father Patrick McDonald, age 47, died at 7:00 p.m. that evening. He was found with a smile on his face that would have signaled contentment and peace, were he to have died anywhere other than Gotham. He ran the Catholic Church's main rescue mission in Gotham; he was always the first to greet new visitors to the soup kitchen. Thus, he introduced himself to the two men with the amazing height difference as soon as they walked through the front door. "Do ye need food, lads?" "I cannot live by bread alone, father--I need knowledge, Father, of the sort only you and this mission can give." The visitor was tall and dark-skinned, his face shadowed by his wide hat. Father McDonald smiled. "Well, lad, if you come seeking the Lord--" The stranger smiled back. "Actually, I come seeking another whose journeys have taken him far from where he belongs." He reached into his coat and withdrew a manilla envelope, and pulled out a photograph of an unshaven man, apparently in his forties. "This is Garrett, my long-lost brother. I had heard that you might know where I could find him." The priest's face lit up. "Garrett, yes. This is wonderful! He was here earlier with a young boy; I think he lives on Montague Street." The stranger smiled; he hadn't stopped smiling the whole time he had been here. Father McDonald thought to himself that this man's positive attitude and outgoing nature were examples for any good Christian to follow. "Thank you, Father, your kindness is an example to us all." He firmly shook the priest's hand. Father McDonald thought he felt a slight pinprick, but it faded almost instantly, and he wrote it off as imagination. "I only do the work of the Lord, son; to be able to reunite a family is a blessing." "Send my regards to God," the stranger said, then bid his adieu. Father McDonald laughed himself to death five minutes later. ******* Bruce sat alone in the den, where it all began so many years ago. The bat had crashed through the window before him, a sign of the mantle he should wear to wage war on Gotham's underworld. The past seemed to be coming back to life. The Duncan Bruce had met the night before, the man now being held in Arkham Asylum, was a dead ringer for his father. The proof lay in the photo album spread open on Bruce's lap. Surely his eyes must be fooling him; Duncan could have stepped out of one of these photos. Light flooded the room. Bruce looked up and saw the familiar signal illuminating the sky--a bat framed in light against the clouds. Gordon needed his help; time for him to drop out of this disguise and reenter the world in his true form. Batman swung to the roof of police headquarters five minutes later, landing inches from Gordon, who was smoking a pipe and looking off in another direction. "Commissioner, you've already had one visit to the hospital because of those things." James Gordon sighed and put out the pipe. "These days it's hard not to pick up the old bad habits. The Joker's back at it again." "Where and what?" "Father McDonald of the Gotham City Rescue Mission died of his venom half an hour ago. Quite a few of Gotham's homeless have been stumbling out into the streets of the red-light district, apparently gassed. We think he's somewhere between Kirby and Crime Alley." The commissioner looked up for his friend. He was, of course, gone. "Be careful, Bruce," he whispered. ******* Part 6 ******* The Joker wasn't happy. He was beginning to think Horton was lying to him about this man Garrett, and the Joker didn't like being played for a fool. He'd been up and down the length of Hobkins Street, and not felt even the beginnings of the Buzz he'd felt in the presence of Duncan MacLeod. "Georgie, I tell you, society is on the decline! Here I am, in the midst of the biggest den of vice in the Western world, and nowhere, but *nowhere*, can I get myself a good Buzz!" Georgie chuckled nervously. "Uh, that's too bad, boss." The Joker pulled a gun and pointed it at the stooge. "Oh, bite me." The pulled the trigger, and Georgie's brains splattered against the side of the dumpster next to him. "Peasant. *No* sense of humor." He bent down to pick up Georgie's Uzi, and then went skipping down the alley, clicking his heels together every few steps as rain began to pelt down. "I'm singing in the rain..." ******* "Duncan." Duncan was dreaming of wolves ripping his flesh when he heard the voice calling his name. He opened his eyes and saw Dawson's silhouette in the doorway. "What're you doing here, Dawson?" Dawson shook his head. "Uncle Mike's here to take you home, son." MacLeod stood, stretched, saw Dawson change before his very eyes into Connor. Duncan blinked, and Joe was there again. "What took you so long, 'Uncle?'" he asked as a nurse unlocked the door to his cell. Joe leaned in close as they walked down the hallway, hands reaching out pleadingly from several of the cells. "It's a good thing you threw your little tantrum in such a public place; one of our people called me as soon as it happened, and I caught the first flight out from Seattle." The bureaucrats tried to talk MacLeod into staying. Told him they wanted to try to duplicate his body's ability to fight the toxin. Joe told them that he and his "nephew" were both practitioners of Christian Science, and believed that God had protected Duncan from the poison. [God, or whoever the sick bastard was who came up with the rules to this damned Game.] ******* The Batmobile cruised through the streets of Gotham at an average speed of 60 mph. Its computers were in constant contact with a high- resolution satellite Clark had set in orbit as a favor for Bruce, and thus the car could read the traffic patterns of the entire city and, in effect, drive itself along the best route to wherever Batman needed to go. He parked the car near Crime Alley, trying not to think of what had happened here so many years ago: ======= A child, delighted by good defeating evil in four colors and stereo sound. His parents, so much in love, hearts full of pride at their son as he played the scenes of the movie over and over in his bright mind. A gun, a broken string of pearls, a child's screams and sobs. Bruce had replayed the scene so damn many times he could *almost* pretend it was all nothing more a long, bad movie. ======= Batman slipped a filter mask over his nose and mouth and climbed out of the car. "Shields." Armor plating slid into place over the car, as walls came down in the Dark Knight's mind to shut out the memories. (All rigt, we've got a homicidal maniac ignoring his typical M.O. to exterminate the homeless of Gotham. The one man's who's survived his gas is sitting in Arkham Asylum, and he looks just like a man my father and Alfred knew from the Forties to the Sixties. How does it all fit together? Ra's al Ghul's come back before--hell, they *all* come back.) Batman headed for the rooftops, looking for the other predator loose in his city tonight. ******* "Duncan, I believe you've met my brother-in-law, Commissioner James Gordon." Dawson looked at Duncan. "He called as soon as the ambulance left to take you to Arkham." MacLeod eyed Dawson suspiciously. "Jesus, Joe, how many sisters do you *have,* man? Do you people get bonus points for virility, or what?" "Someone has to carry on the tradition, MacLeod." Gordon looked at the two men. "We can engage in coffee talk later. Right now, we have a serious situation, and we need your help, MacLeod." "Now, *why* does that not surprise me?" Duncan giggled, than forced himself to ignore the fact Gordon had just grwon four extra eyes. Gordon ignored the joke. "You've met the Joker." "You could say that, yes." "He needs to be stopped." "He's madder than a hatter--but isn't that the way you Watchers see all of us?" Duncan paced the floor. "I *will* agree to try to take his head, yes--that answers *your* question, so you needn't bother asking. Now, answer mine--are you willing to look the other way while I do it?" Gordon threw his hands up in the air. "Why not? We did a damn good job denying Batman's existence for over a year." "Well, here's my other question--will *he* look the other way?" ******* Batman looked one way, then the other. Dead bodies in the alley everywhere the eye turned. Then he heard the sickening rattle of an automatic weaping, followed by the faroff sounds of an explosion. The avenger grimaced and jumped back down to the Batmobile, then started the car and turned it toward the waterfront. ******* Jason was in shock at whose arrival had been signalled by the Buzz he and Garrett had felt. Garrett had sent him to hide in a building close at hand, and the Joker had arrived moments later and shot up the older man's makeshift shelter. The taxi that had been called to carry Jason to Wayne manor drove by without stopping. Jason wondered if Garrett would come out. But he'd have to face the Joker, because otherwise the Joker would start looking for him. But Garrett had been drinking a lot earlier; maybe he'd have a batter chance of winning-- But no, he couldn't keep his cool in a fight with the man who'd killed him. And if the Joker knew about the beheading part, Jason was doomed, since he didn't have so much as a pocketknife. "Garrett! I am the Joker! There can be only one!" The Joker aimed his Uzi at the dumpster and fired into it. "If you don't come out and fight me, I'll kill every single one bum out here on the streets!" That did it. Garrett leapt down from the shadows of the fire escape with his sword in one hand and his vodka bottle in the other. "We can't do battle here, Joker; the God of the City resides in this place--and we cannot fight on holy ground." He set the bottle on the garbage can beside him. The Joker laughed. "You fool, the gods laugh at *us*; thus, *I* laugh at the gods!" From beneath his purple trenchcoat, the Joker drew a broadsword with gaudy purple gems set into its hilt. Jason looked on in terror. /Does he Sense *me?*/ "This time I'm not joking. There can be only one!" The Joker jumped at Garrett, who blocked the attack by mere inches. Sparks from the edges of their swords hit the wet edge of the vodka bottle, causing it to explode. The Joker looked aside a moment, losing the advantage to the tall homeless man. "I am Odysseus of Ithaca, the Grail Knight. There can be only one!" "Garrett" kicked the Joker in the stomach, sending him sprawling back. Back and forth the battle raged, lightning flashing in the sky. "We have angered the God," Jason's newfound mentor said. "As have the Gods angered me!" The Joker grasped Odysseus' shoulder with a gloved hand, causing the taller man to wince in pain. "You just gotta know how to laugh at these things!" Jason knew what that meant--the venom. He looked for a weapon, any weapon, finally seeing a chair that he could throw at the Joker, maybe distract the sick bastard long enough for Garrett to finish him. Garrett began to laugh as a bright light began to fill the alley. His sword fell to the ground. "They come for us, Joker. If I must be with Pluto, so shall you..." The Joker looked at him. "I'll trust you to make me a cozy place in Hell, snookums." He raised the sword. "There can be only one!" The Batmobile struck the Joker as Odysseus' head fell. The Joker rolled onto the car's hood. "No, it's *mine!*" he screamed as the car zoomed the last few blocks towards the harbor. ******* /Bruce?/ Jason jumped out of the window and into the alley, watching the sparks rise from the car it screamed toward the waterfront. He reached out for his new mentor, who now lay dead in the alley. /Maybe since the Joker isn't here, he'll come ba--/ The first bolt of lightning hit Jason. He screamed, then took the second bolt, and the third. He felt himself aging a hundred lifetimes in a second. His soul wept, and the sky joined him. He crawled over to the sword, pushed it into a crack in the sidewalk to lean on, and felt the Quickening overtake him. Manhole covers exploded. The building he had been in burst into flames as its gas lines erupted. He was showered with broken glass and plaster in an explosion that put the previous night's conflagaration at the graveyard to shame. /Bruce...you can't stop him...you won't cross the line and do what has to be done...it's up to *me*.../ ******* Duncan sat in the police helicoptor with Gordon and Dawson. A young Watcher and police officer named Montoya piloted. They saw lightning converging on the waterfront. "There," Duncan said. "Drop me off near there." ******* The Batmobile's computers scrambled, and the steering locked up. (What the hell?) Batman looked at sobbing monster on the hood, sobbing like a child whose grandmother has just thrown away his favorite toy. (I was going 80 miles per hour when I hit him. Why isn't that ghoul dead already?) One of the booster engines in back exploded. Batman flipped the ejection switch. Nothing. (Damn it--) The river rushed up to meet them as the Batmobile exploded. ******* To be continued... =========================================================================