The gunfire started immediately after the lights went off.

Cops rushed to the basement but Batgirl was the first one who made it to the basement door. She ignored the officers behind her telling her not to go forward. She didn’t care what they said, her father was in there.

She could hear muffled laughter and gunfire. She could hear the pained grunts of police officers and bullets bouncing off metal.

Batgirl took a deep breath and opened the door to the basement.

…

Heyy Babsy.

Could he even call her that? It wasn’t like they were that close.

Heyy Barbara. About that date.

No way too casual. Also, what if she didn’t think it was a date? She did say it was a date but…

Heyy Barbara. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on Saturday ☹. Work got in the way, maybe we can hang out next week. Maybe?

Was the sad emoji a bit much? I mean if he had the time to click an emoji did it mean that he wasn’t really sad? Also, two maybes? That showed he was nervous didn’t it? And Dick told him he had to be confident.

Heyy Barbara. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on Saturday. Have to work overtime because of my manager >:(. How about next week?

That seemed confident enough. But Peter had to apologise, right? He felt really bad about ditching her like that.

Peter groaned. Why was texting so hard?

He walked around his room, walked around the entire apartment. Sitting on sofas and since May wasn’t there hanging upside down from the ceiling. Maybe the blood rushing to his head would give him inspiration.

He typed the text, this time with an I’m sorry in it. Realising that it sounded a little too needy, he cancelled it and typed it again, this time trying to emulate a sense of gentlemanly tact. Peter, realising that tact wasn’t his strong suit and that he was light years away from being a gentleman sighed. He was wasting a lot of time trying to come up with the perfect text.

Thunder roared.

“You’re not helping,” Peter shouted.

Peter groaned. He decided shouting the rapid expansion of air surrounding the path of a lightning bolt would not help in texting Barbara at all. He decided that he should probably do something instead of sitting around trying to text a girl he liked.

Peter was about to head back to his room when he noticed the bills on the table. Peter noticed the usual bills hidden underneath a stack of books, rent, water and electricity bills, the usual suspects. Peter sent anonymous letters to Aunt May. It was well known that Ben had a lot of friends and May got a lot of letters and gifts from them when Ben passed away, even donations. While May didn’t like the pity, she realised sentiment was stupid especially when rent was overdue. Peter took advantage of that and sent his payment through an anonymous donor. Peter could see that Aunt May was keeping up with her bills, especially since she also had a part-time job as a nurse that kept her busy most afternoons. But there was one bill that looked out of place to Peter. He saw a medical bill from a pharmacy listing aspirin, panado and a bunch of flu medicine. There was, however, two medicine that stuck out like a sore thumb. It was nitro-glycerine and statins. Peter knew that those medicines were used to treat heart conditions.

Guilt started slowly creeping up his heart. Ben always told Peter May had a weak heart which was why he did most of the work around the house. Peter saw how expensive those medicines were and realised that his donations wouldn’t be enough to afford them.

Peter scrolled through the contacts on his phone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Farook,” Peter said, clearing his throat, he made his way to the bathroom. He remembered how Aunt May would always go to the bathroom after breakfast and dinner. Peter thought nothing of it then but he realised just how specific the times were, especially after seeing those bills. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for disturbing. Is it possible if we change around the contract a bit?”

Peter was in the bathroom now, opening the bathroom mirror.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I want to start working overtime.”

Hidden well, but not well enough the bottles of nitro-glycerine and statins were behind tubes of Uncle Ben’s after-shave and face cream.

“Why?” Peter asked and let out a weak chuckle. “I mean, a guy’s gotta eat, right?”

…

Suits of armour were stained with blood. Bodies of GCPD officers lay mangled all around the basement, riddled with bullet holes. Laughter echoed in the basement like a ghost, feint but it’s presence could still be felt. Batgirl navigated her way carefully through the basement, the beam of her flashlight darting across the dark basement landing on dead officers riddled with bullet holes, others sliced cleanly in half. How could the Joker have killed this many people in less than five minutes?

Her flashlight stopped at an officer with his head sliced cleanly off, the rest of his body connected only by a trail of blood. Drops of blood dripping gently on his face from a sword piercing the air attached to a twisted suit of armour. Batgirl could feel the bile in her throat, ready to erupt at any second. The only thing that was keeping her from puking on the spot was the determination to find her dad. She walked past that body. She gulped, her saliva tasting like puke.

She navigated the twisted bodies, the laughter getting louder and louder. She heard the SWAT team bursting through the doors. Their heavy footsteps felt like they were kilometres away. Batgirl felt her legs step on something squishy. She ignored her stomach squirming and darted away from it, not looking back.

She found her father leaning against a suit of armour, a crimson hand over his shoulder. Barbara rushed towards him, praying that her father wasn’t dad. Praying that the Joker didn’t take the life of the person she loved the most.

She kneeled over her father, placing two yellow gloved fingers on his neck. She breathed a sigh of relief, he was alive. She ripped open his T-shirt, revealing a suit of Kevlar armour riddled with holes. The Kevlar took the brunt of the hits. She didn’t have time to examine the bullet holes like Bruce taught her to. Know your enemy, Bruce always used to say. Well, sorry Bruce but my father’s in danger. She examined the bullet hole in his shoulder, it went straight through, barely grazing his chest. It was bleeding like hell though but her dad would be fine, just as long as the bleeding was stopped. Barbara tore a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around the bullet wound.

Her father mumbled something.

“What was that?” Barbara asked.

“Did you get him?” her father asked through heavy breaths.

“No,” Barbara said, wrapping the makeshift bandage around her father’s shoulders.

“As soon as the lights went off, there was gunfire,” Dad said. “None of us had time to react. One of the boys saw I was in the way…”

Dad was silent. Barbara turned her face to the right and saw a man rolled over, his eyes wide open and his body riddled with bullet holes. He looked young, couldn’t have been more than 24.

“Was talking about his girlfriend,” Dad said. “Probably to pass time. Sounded anxious as hell.”

He saw her dad clench his fist. “I’m going to get that bastard.”

He tried to get up but Batgirl pulled him back down. “Hell no. I’ll deal with him. You get some rest.”

Batgirl sighed, hand on her father’s shoulder. “Look, just press on your shoulder. After I deal with the bastard, I’ll get help.”

Batgirl got up. Dad called after her.

“Wait,” Dad said. “Be careful. You haven’t been around the block as much as Batman and that kid. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Don’t worry,” Batgirl said. “I can handle myself.”

“I know,” Dad said. “Just be careful.”

Batgirl nodded.

As she ran off, Gordon thought about how stubborn she was. Reminded him way too much of his daughter. Deep down maybe he believed that she was actually his daughter. Maybe that was why as she sprinted away, he prayed that she’d be okay, that the madman wouldn’t do anything to her. Looking at the bodies all around him, and the blood staining the basement it was the best he could offer. A prayer.

…

All she could see was blood.

It was like a soup. With limbs and heads strewn about like chunks of meat. And in the centre of the tangle of limbs was the body of Jay Wilde cradling his head like a baby. And the laughter. The laughter was louder, echoing through her head like a cathedral bell.

Batgirl fell on her knees, hands over her mouth. She could feel the bile in her mouth now, struggling to get out. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream but she couldn’t. She let this happen, she let this monster get away. If she hadn’t gotten ahead of herself, she would have been in the room when the Joker arrived. She could have protected these men and Wilde from that… that… thing.

The laughter was louder in her head, playing over and over again like a catchy song. The world around her was like a hurricane and the only thing she could focus on was Wilde’s face, his brown eyes permanently trapped in an expression of shock, remnants of his spine jutting out from his neck.

“It’s a shame,” said that voice. That jovial voice. A voice she hated and knew she would grow to hate. She heard heavy footsteps dragging themselves across the floor. She heard the sound of something metal, like a knife but bigger. “When you try your hardest and it all amounts to nothing.”

Batgirl turned to see the Joker wearing armour dented with bullet holes, blood painting the metallic surface. The armour covered his entire body, the only thing being visible was his pale white face and giant grin. He raised a sword that was red, not by design but by the blood of the officers it had taken the lives off.

“I’m going to cut some time off the grieving process,” the Joker said. “Lord knows I don’t want to see that.”

He swung the sword. Batgirl rolled away and using her Batclaw ripped the sword out of the Jokers hand. She got more than she had bargained for as she also managed to rip off the gauntlet, he was wearing around his arm revealing a purple sleeve and gloves.

“I’m going to get you,” Batgirl screamed. “I swear.”

“Ooh, a feisty one,” Joker said, giggling. “I like that.”

Batgirl leaped in the air, Joker staring at her with a grin on his face. She placed her hands on his shoulder and using the momentum of that, grabbed his visor and yanked it off his face. It was a move Dick taught her.

The Joker’s green hair spilled around his face. “I always hated helmet hair,” he mumbled. “Hard to comb the next day, you know?” Batgirl spared no time, she threw aside the visor and punched him across the face. The Joker responded by swinging his armoured hand at her. Batgirl ducked, kicked him against the stomach and yanked out the gauntlet.

“Are you going to take out my clothes next?” Joker said, smiling. “I’ll have you know I’m not the type who likes being dominated.”

Batgirl couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe how he could be smiling after he had killed so many men. She knew some of these men. When her dad used to show her around the precinct when she was a kid, she used to talk to so many of them. So many of them had families, had kids and now they were all gone.

She heard SWAT, their lights darted around the Joker and her face.

“Looks like my time here is done,” The Joker said. A thousand SWAT members shuffled in. They had their guns trained on the Joker, ready to fire. “Daddy had some fun tonight.”

Batgirl was about to lunge at him when from out of nowhere she felt something wrap around her leg. Before she could even react, she felt the world flip around her and her head hit the pavement. Hard. The world around her was white noise and flashing lights. She could, hear if only faintly the screams of SWAT soldiers and the snake-like hiss of something that didn’t sound human.

The world around her spun. She could barely move her body. In the distance she heard laughter and screaming but the noise was drowned out by the pain in her head. She managed to heave herself up, the world still ringing. She dragged herself across the floor, stepping in something wet and even squashing something underneath her foot which she didn’t want to check.

After a while the ringing stopped, she still felt a little woozy but the aching had disappeared. She felt nauseous and weak and exhausted but she fought against them. She could still hear the Joker laughing in the distance and the sound of gunfire. Batgirl limped up the staircase, not looking back. Not wanting to look back.

…

Joker had left behind a trail of blood.

Bodies riddled with bullet holes, others with their intestines spilling out. She tried to ignore them, tried to block their vacant eyes and barely recognisable bodies. She hadn’t seen something like this in her life and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

The sound of automatic fire thundered in the air accompanied by pistol fire. The main entrance of Wilde’s manor was turned into a war zone as Joker fired two machine guns simultaneous, cackling like a madman. His armour and shirt sleeves were drenched with blood. So much so that his shirt was sticking against his skinny body. One officer made the unfortunate mistake of poking his head out of cover, his face was reduced to a bloody pulp.

Soon the Joker’s guns started firing air. He threw them away. Bullets bounced off his armour. The door slammed shut behind him as cops started scrambling towards him, Batgirl included.

They slammed the door open to bloodied bodies. They heard a heavy gunshot and glass shattering. They turned their heads to see Joker holding a shotgun, the officer he killed didn’t have a face anymore yet the Joker still had a grin on his face. Joker entered through the bloodied doors and switched on the car. Bullets clinked against the car’s surface as it screeched on the gravel road and drove off.

No, Batgirl thought. No way in hell she was letting him escape.

She pressed a button on her gauntlet. There was a beeping sound that got louder and more frequent as her bike drew closer. She hopped on to it, speeding past the police cars that were in hot pursuit of the Joker.

No way in hell she was letting him escape.

…

The Joker zoomed past them, laughing in his car.

“Wasn’t that…?” Robin asked.

Barbara suddenly flew past them on her bike, bouncing off the pavement like a soccer ball.

Both Batman and Robin figured out what was going on immediately. The Batmobile screeched into a U-turn and soon the Batfamily was in hot pursuit.

…

First it was the girl. The clown thought that he’d be able to escape her with ease. He wondered why (he) didn’t finish her off. Maybe it was because she reminded him of how she was when they (no) met. Maybe it was because she was pretty, the clown didn’t know.

All it would take was a gunshot to the front tyre. Her movement was predictable, her driving chaotic. He could see in her eyes that she only had one focus and that was to make him pay/revenge. Part of him wanted to know what would happen when she got her yellow mittened hands on him, the other wanted to see her splattered across the pavement.

Things got interested when the Bat came into the equation.

Oh, the Bat. The clown knew a man facing darkness when he saw it. The clown could see how hard the Bat fought the darkness that threatened to consume every night he put on the costume. It was a darkness the Clown found fascinating, found himself attracted to but the clown knew deep down that he was just like the rest. If push came to shove and the two of them were alone, the Clown would die in an ‘accident’ and no one would miss him. The Bat was just like his Father/Employers/Society.

As the vehicles closed in on him, he thought about how funny it would be if the Bat’s underage girlfriend was turned into mush under the wheels of that glorified tank. The Clown laughed at that thought. He poked his hand out of the window, staring at the all the mirrors trying to get a good trajectory of a shot. He was after all a master shot/ gangster/ stuntman?

The first shot he fired missed. The girl swerved her bike to the right. The Batmobile fired and the Clown something burst like a firecracker. His car started screeching across the road, sending sparks dancing in the air.

The Clown laughed as his car teetered off the edge of the bridge their cars were roaring across. Oh, he wondered how they would react if the car was sent plummeting off the edge? Oh, how he knew they would just let him fall. Especially the girl.

Especially the girl.

The second shot bounced off the surface of the tank. An idea burst into his head like a dynamite explosion.

He purposefully moved his car to the right, oh how he wondered what would happen when his car was sent hurtling down the bridge? How would they react?

Second, he pointed his gun out the window. The girl tried to throw something but it missed by an inch. Momma always said he was a lucky boy and momma was never wrong.

He fired the gun. The girl knew it wouldn’t hit. She continued on her path. The Bat, safe in his tank knew he wouldn’t be in danger so he continued on his path.

Perfect.

The bullet ricocheted off the surface of the big black tank and the tyre of the girl’s bike

…

burst as Batgirl was sent hurtling forward into the air before rolling in the dirt.

The stolen cop car broke through the guard rails of the bridge, taking the Joker.

“Bruce you’re going to run her over!” Robin exclaimed.

Batman swerved the Batmobile, what remained of Barbara’s bike being crushed under the tyres. He desperately tried moving away from her body but no matter what he did, her skull would be crushed by the massive tyres. Realising this, Dick pressed the eject button that was on the gear. Leaping through the air he dived towards Barbara, grabbing her and quickly using his grappling hook to attach to the guard rails on the right. The Batmobile screeched over the air where they once were.

Batman realising, they were safe drove as fast as he could to where the Joker’s car once was. He pressed a button, attaching a hook that penetrated the metal surface with ease. The bonnet of the car was inches away from the road below. Batman reversed the vehicle, the metal of the police car groaning as it was slowly pulled up like garbage in the sea of cars below.

The doors of the Batmobile hissed open as Batman got out. The police car dangled over the edge of the bridge like a bloody pendulum. Batman, his body tense and ready to react, walked slowly toward the police car like a beast about to take on another beast. His breathing was calm, his movement was steady. Batman yanked open the passenger seat.

It was empty.

“Did we get him?” Barbara asked through the intercom, her voice tired and exhausted.

“No,” Batman said. And Batman swore he could hear laughter echoing underneath the busy highways of the bridge below.

To be continued.