Date: Sun, 18 Sep 1994 21:12:44 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "Jason R. Tippitt" Subject: Dark of Knight, Parts 7 and 8, with corrections and revisions ************************************************************************ D A R K O F K N I G H T ************************************************************************ Jason R. Tippitt, 1994 A Highlander/Batman Crossover Warning: Violence Part 7 ******* Duncan looked down from the helicoptor at the battlesite. He'd seen a young boy cradling the headless body, but the kid had rabbited within seconds of their appearance. "Drop me off on the roof," he told Montoya. "I want to see if the Joker's still there. I can still sense another one in the vicinity, but it might be the boy." Moments later he was in the alley. There was no sign of the kid. Whoever he was, he was good. The head lay to one side, face frozen in a fatal smile. [Definitely the Joker's work.] The beard was a new addition, but the face was one Duncan knew well. ======= 1945. Back in Berlin--the war was drawing to a close. Duncan and Odysseus and Gregor were here to see that the war ended as quickly as possible. Not that they particularly liked what they were here to do, but the man with the goatee had made his position perfectly clear--kill Adolf Hitler or be exposed to the world. They stole their way into the Fuhrer's bunker, killing every guard they encountered. Odysseus and Duncan were used to this type of action, but Gregor was a physician, not cut out for commando activities, and showing it in the way he responded to situations. The three men finally came to the corridor leading to Hitler's inner sanctum, where he was most likely to be hiding (unless the man pulling the Immortals' strings didn't know *everything* about this bunker). In the shadows of a corridor, they observed two SS men standing guard at door to the last room, unaware of the status of their fellows. They stood nervously smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, looking around with twitchy eyes. "Something's got them unnerved," Duncan whispered. "Let's just get in there," Odysseus answered. He seemed to have other things on his mind, as well. A pair of guards approached from the other direction. They screamed in German for the three men to freeze. Gregor, on the brink of tears already, reached into his backpack. A shot went through his right arm as he pulled out a smoke grenade; with his left arm, he tossed it into the hallway. The three Immortals wore gas masks, and were thus unaffected by the smoke; the German guards, already nervous, opened fire. Two of the four Nazis, one at each end of the hallway, fell prey to their fellows' fire, and Duncan and Odysseus slit the throats of the other two. Gregor took a round between the eyes and fell dead to the floor; Duncan and Odysseus knocked down the door and jumped into the Fuhrer's chamber, covering one another's back, leaving Gregor to pick up on the way out. Adolf Hitler looked at the two Immortals, then spoke in hesitant English. "So, it has come to this. Very well." Behind Hitler, his new wife, the actress Eva Braun, gasped. Odysseus trained his rifle on Hitler. "Don't move a muscle, beast." Hitler looked at Eva and spoke to her in German. "Et tu, Brute? You act as though you recognize these men. Just as well, then; either you are a traitor to the Reich or you would suffer the indignities of the Jews outside our glorious land. Your death will be quick." Eva looked from Hitler to a wine glass on the table. She screamed. "She was our double agent?" Duncan whispered. "Poison for the serpent," Hitler gloated in English. "Fitting end, is it not?" Odysseus screamed and put a shot through Hitler's heart. He drew his sword and jumped toward the dying Nazi, beheading him. There was no Quickening; all that resulted was Eva collapsing to her knees vomitting. Odysseus ran to Eva, taking her into his arms. "I am sorry, my wife..." ======= "What are *you* doing here? Are you and the Joker in league?" Duncan spun, drawing his sword. He stood face-to-face with Batman, the last man he'd wanted to run into. If Night had ever bore a child, that child now stood before MacLeod, his long cloak seeming to vanish into the shadows. He stood bent the slightest degree, corners of his mouth bent in some unspoken agony. "You're wounded." "I was here looking for the Joker. Now I find you at the scene of his crime twice running. You have questions to answer, MacLeod." The human eye was not fast enough to follow Batman's movements; he seemed to go instantly from a standing position to a flying kick that struck the Highlander in the jaw and sent him to the ground. Duncan grabbed Batman's foot and jerked him to the ground, then sprang up. He looked for his katana, but it had skidded away. "There's been a mistake--" Batman sprang from the ground. "You made it." Duncan saw that the man's side was slick with blood; the distraction left him open for a left that broke two of his teeth. Duncan grabbed Batman's arm and twisted it behind his back. He tired to shut out the fact that Batman was seemed to be changing into a human bat, a vampiric sort with sharp teeth and blood dripping from his lips. "You're injured, man; you need to get to a hospital." "Such concern..." Batman struggled to break free, finally popping his shoulder out of socket and sliding away." MacLeod snatched up his sword. "I'm not the killer; I'm after the Joker, same as you. Gordon didn't send me out here to fight you." Batman sprang to the top of a garbage dumpster and slammed his arm against the wall, knocking his shoulder back into socket. "Gordon?" He looked down at the Highlander. "Trying to distract me, eh?" His hand reached to a pouch on the yellow belt at his waist. "Wait! He's innocent!" a young man's voice shouted. Batman and Duncan both turned to look at the teenager on the roof above them. "It was the Joker, Batman." "Jason?" Batman mouthed these words and collapsed. The kid stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped the three stories down the the fire escape where Batman lay. He leaned down to check the masked man's pulse, then looked up at Duncan. "I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Highlander. Garrett's just told me all about you." "Garrett?" Jason pointed to the headless body. "Or Odysseus. Whatever. You wouldn't happen to have a *car* nearby, would you?" ******* Part 8 ******* Richie asked Duncan if he had a car so they could carry Mako for medical help. "What? He's an Immortal, like us, Richie--he'll be fine in a few minues." Richie looked at him quizically. "I don't know what you're talking about, mac--Batman needs help." Duncan snorted. "Batman? He's a fabrication of the press. That's Mako. I never would have figured him for a Joker, but there's the proof of it--finding the two of you having a laugh over my thinking you'd actually managed to kill him." Richie and Mako's forms wavered, and for a moment Duncan seemed to see a boy, younger than Richie, standing over a dark-clad man. |Duncan, you're hallucinating again. Go to sleep for a while, and let me handle things. I've been crazy, and besides, I'm a doctor. I can help Batman, and maybe keep us stable.| [Michael?] |Well, Quentin certainly wasn't an M.D. Let me do the talking.] Duncan's facial expression changed as Michael took control. "Let me take a look at him, son," he said, climbing up onto the fire escape and kneeling beside the unconscious vigilante. Jason eyed him warily. "Uh, sure thing." /He's reminding me of Two-Face, right down to the voice changing./ Michael looked up a the kid. "He's in trouble, unless we help him fast. I guess a hospital's out of the question--he seemed to know you, is that true?" "Um, yeah." Jason reached to his belt to make sure Garrett's sword was still in place. "That won't be much good in the operating room," Michael said gently. "I'm just like you and your dead friend. And the Joker, I guess. Your friend lives on inside you--I live on inside of Duncan. My name is Michael Moore, and I'm a physician. More specifically, I'm a psychiatrist, but you never forget how to do stitches." He smiled, which eased Jason's nerves a little bit. A black Firebird screamed to a stop in the alley beneath them. A tall, lanky man dressed all in black stepped out. "Gordon sent me to give you guys this car--thought you might need transportation." He handed the keys to Michael and started off. "Thank the Commissioner," Jason said as he and Michael loaded Batman into the back seat of the car. /Good, tinted windows. Less chance of being seen./ Jason climbed into the passenger seat and looked at Michael. "Tell me you won't freak if I tell you to drive straight toward a brick wall." Michael looked confused, but smiled. "Well, it's not going to kill *us,* regardless, so, yeah, I'll trust you." ******* As the car zoomed down Finger Allet, Jason reached for the CB. He looked at Michael and said, "Better hope he didn't erase my voice from the authorization records." He pressed down on the button. Kane 8056 Miller 9354." The wall two blocks before them began to slide open. The car rushed toward the widening gap in the middle. "It's not going to be wide enough--" Michael said just before the sound of screeching metal drowned out his voice. The mirrors and doors were ripped from the car. The car tried to spin out of control, but Michael was able to hold it steady. Jason looked at Michael. "Sorry about the close call. I've gotten a little bit out of practice." ******* Horton looked at the thing on the slab in front of him. His men had dragged the river for the Joker's body and brought it here, to an empty warehouse Horton had rented in case he ever needed to do any hunting in Gotham. The Joker's head was nearly facing his back, and his limbs each had far too many bends in them. "Maybe I should kill you now, Joker." He felt under his coat, let his hand rest on the handle of his axe. "You couldn't even finish off a wasted bum on a binge without using your toxin. Any warrior worth his salt would have finished the fight long before Batman got anywhere near the alley to intervene. Maybe I should..." The Joker's legs began to straighten. Horton grasped the axe handle tighter. "Maybe--No. Let things happen as they may. Maybe when MacLeod takes your head, it will drive him so far into madness that his death at my hands will be all that much simpler." Horton walked out of the warehouse, leaving the Joker alone with an envelope containing $50,000 and a photograph of Duncan for his perusal when he awoke. Gotham's early flight to Paris was leaving soon. Time to get away from Gotham, from devils in grey and blue-blacks suits driving cars at high speeds down alleys. Maybe the Hunters should "examine" Batman to see if he was one of these Immortal monsters. Maybe the man Horton was going to Paris to contact, St. Cloud, could help him after MacLeod was out of the picture. ******* Duncan dreamed, adrift in the depths of his own mind. He was Michael. He remembered a time when he owed some loan sharks big money and he'd taken to doing work for them and their friends under the table to keep them somewhat placid while he looked for a way to pay what he owed them. The men brought in one of their buddies. He wore a pin-striped suit and a red mask, a sort of plastic hood. It was 1:30 a.m. when they arrived, and he worked until dawn, trying to fight the blood poisoning that had set in after the poor fool had taken a fall into a vat of chemicals after being shot. His heart had nearly stopped, and his face was frozen in a death's head grin; there was no way Michael could do a blessed thing about *that*, even if he'd had the most expensive state- of-the-art equipment available. He was no neurosurgeon. "He'd be better off dead," he told one of the gangsters. "I can't do anything for his face, and if this skin discoloration is permanent, there's no way he'll ever have a normal life again." Tony "Kneecap" Carlin pointed a beefy finger at Michael. "No way does he die. He's too big a creditor. If he dies, you fork up your balance and his ASAP." From the next room, Michael felt the beginnings of the Buzz. He looked at the gang members and told them, "You gentlemen go home and try to get some sleep. I'll call you if anything happens." They left, and Michael sprinted into the makeshift operating room. The thin man was beginning to stir. "Where am I?" he asked from beneath his bandages. "Batman--" Michael stood in front of his patient. "You are Immortal. You were dead, and have returned. Any wounds you suffer will heal themselves almost immediately. Any injuries or scars from before your death--" "So stuffy--" The luckless thief began to pull at his bandages. "Face feels funny." "You should leave those on." "Death would be a favor, in comparison to the way I feel. The mob owns me, my wife's dead..." "You cannot die. You will outlive the men whom you owe money." He thought about that and felt a bit of weight off his own shoulders, was amused by the fact the idea would never have struck him had he not been forced to say it to this man. The criminal pulled the last of the gauze off his disfigured face. "My face feels really funny. Do you have a mirror so I can see myself?" Michael backed against his cabinet and reluctantly pulled out a hand-held mirror. "You have to understand--any disfigurations you got before you died will stay there, unless they're a part of what killed you. Your heart stopped due to paralysis, but your face may stay--" "Just hand me the fucking mirror." Michael handed it over. "I'm sorry..." The man looked at his reflection, eyes showing the horror behind his smile. "You say you're another Immortal, and there's no way we can die, eh?" Michael swallowed. |Should I lie?| "Not unless another Immor--" The thief closed his hands around Michael's throat, "Oh, I *so* hoped you'd say that!" He strangled Michael until he appeared to be dead, then left him lying on the floor as he left. When Michael awoke an hour later, he packed his few belongings in a bag and fled Gotham. He never returned, even though he heard two days later that the men he owed money to had been found murdered. He never returned mainly out of fear that the Joker might learn what he had not had time to hear this time, and might try to finish the job. ******* To be continued... =========================================================================