Christmas Eve - Gotham Plaza
Snow fell softly on Gotham, covering the grime in a blanket of pristine white.
Gotham Plaza was packed. Thousands of people had gathered for the annual lighting of the massive Rockefeller-style Christmas tree.
"It is freezing," Robin complained, shivering on top of the statue of Justice overlooking the square. "Why do villains always pick the coldest nights? Why not the Fourth of July?"
"Because fear is colder than death," Batman replied, his breath misting in the air. "And because the Mayor is down there."
I stood behind them, brushing snow off my shoulders. I was holding a thermos of mulled wine (non-alcoholic for Robin, heavily spiced for me).
"The crowd is dense," I observed. "Security is lax. If I were a maniac with a penchant for theatrics, this is exactly where I would be."
Down below, Mayor Garcia stepped up to the microphone. Standing next to him was Harvey Dent, looking regal in a wool coat, and Captain Gordon.
"Citizens of Gotham!" the Mayor announced. "Despite the darkness of this year... despite the fear... we stand together! Let this light shine as a beacon of hope!"
He pulled the giant lever.
CLICK.
The crowd gasped.
The lights on the tree didn't turn gold. They turned a sickly, neon green. And purple.
And then, the massive star at the top of the tree exploded.
BOOM.
It wasn't shrapnel. It was confetti. Thousands of playing cards rained down on the screaming crowd. Joker cards.
"HO! HO! HO!"
A voice boomed from the speakers, drowning out the Christmas carols.
The bottom branches of the tree were ripped away. Standing on a hidden platform built inside the tree was the Joker.
He looked different than a year ago. His hair was longer, wilder. His purple suit was tattered, patched with mismatched fabrics. He looked like a man who had spent a year living in the dark, festering.
"Merry Christmas, Gotham!" Joker screamed, holding a microphone in one hand and a detonator in the other. "Did you miss me?! I missed you! I missed the screaming! I missed the running!"
He kicked a present off the platform. It exploded into laughing gas, sending the front row of the crowd into a panic.
"I've been reading the papers!" Joker pouted, pacing on the platform. "And I am offended! Who is this 'Holiday' killer? Hmm? Stealing my gimmick? Killing people on my special days? It's plagiarism! It's copyright infringement!"
He pointed at the crowd.
"So tonight, I'm taking Christmas back! Starting with the Mayor!"
"Now!" Batman shouted.
The Ice Rink
Batman and Robin dove from the statue. They didn't glide; they plummeted like stones to build speed, snapping their capes open at the last second to crash through the decorations.
Batman landed on the platform, sweeping Joker's legs.
"Oof!" Joker hit the wood hard. "Batsy! You came! I bought you a gift! It's a bomb!"
Joker rolled away, dropping a grenade disguised as a bauble.
Batman grabbed the grenade and threw it into the air. It exploded harmlessly above the plaza.
"Everyone clear the area!" Robin yelled, landing in the crowd to direct the stampede.
"Sebastian!" Batman shouted, engaging the Joker in hand-to-hand combat. "Contain the gas!"
I sighed. "A butler's work is never done."
I leaped from the statue. I landed gracefully on the ice skating rink, sliding on the soles of my shoes as if I were a figure skater.
A dozen of Joker's henchmen—dressed as twisted, muscular elves with baseball bats—charged at me.
"Naughty list," I whispered.
I spun. I grabbed the first elf by his pointy hat and used him as a bowling ball to knock down three others.
Strike.
I moved through the chaos with supernatural elegance. I caught a baseball bat mid-swing, snapped it over my knee, and gently chopped the attacker on the neck.
"Please do not run on the ice," I scolded, tossing an unconscious thug into a snowbank. "It is dangerous."
Up on the platform, the fight was brutal.
Joker wasn't fighting with skill; he was fighting with mania. He had a knife hidden in his sleeve. He slashed at Batman's chest, sparking against the Kevlar.
"Admit it!" Joker shrieked, laughing as Batman punched him in the jaw. "You missed me! The quiet was boring, wasn't it? You need the noise! You need the laughter!"
"I need you in a cell," Batman growled. He caught Joker's wrist, twisted it, and slammed him face-first into the tree trunk.
"Stay down!"
"Never!" Joker headbutted Batman backward. He scrambled for the detonator he had dropped. "If I can't be the star of the show, I'll blow up the theater!"
He reached for the button.
THWIP.
A batarang severed the wire.
Joker looked at the useless detonator. He looked at Batman.
"Oh, come on!" Joker whined. "That cost me fifty bucks!"
Batman grabbed him by the lapels and hoisted him into the air.
"Where is Holiday?" Batman demanded, shaking him. "Are you working together?"
Joker blinked. He looked genuinely confused.
"Working together?" Joker spat blood. "I told you! I want to kill him! He's stealing my thunder! I was going to kill the Mayor to prove I'm still the number one psycho in town!"
Batman paused. Joker wasn't Holiday. He was just a jealous diva.
Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the plaza.
BANG.
It didn't come from the Joker. It came from the parking lot behind the stage.
Batman dropped the Joker (who landed in a heap of snow) and looked toward the sound.
The Parking Lot
We ran. Batman, Robin, and I sprinted to the back of the plaza.
We found the target.
It wasn't the Mayor.
It was Milos Grapa, the personal bodyguard of Carmine Falcone. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his car.
Dead. Shot twice in the head with a .22.
On the dashboard sat a snow globe. Inside, a miniature Santa Claus was holding a skull.
"He struck," Batman whispered, checking the pulse. "While we were fighting the Joker."
"We were the distraction," Robin realized, horrified. "Holiday used the Joker's attack as cover to take out Falcone's bodyguard."
Gordon and Dent ran up, breathless.
"Is it..." Dent stared at the body. "Milos. The Roman's right hand."
"He's dead," Batman said.
From the plaza, we heard a high-pitched, maniacal shriek.
"NOOOOO!"
We looked back.
The Joker was standing on the platform, handcuffed to the tree (courtesy of Robin). He was watching the police carry the body away.
"HE DID IT AGAIN!" Joker screamed at the sky, tears of rage streaming down his face. "HE UPSTAGED ME ON CHRISTMAS! THAT'S MY HOLIDAY! I'M SUING!"
I stood in the snow, looking at the absurdity of it all. The Clown Prince of Crime was throwing a tantrum because another serial killer was more effective than he was.
"Christmas in Gotham," I murmured, opening my umbrella again. "Truly magical."
I looked at Harvey Dent.
He wasn't looking at the Joker. He was looking at the dead bodyguard. And for a second, just a second... he smiled.
Falcone is unprotected, Dent's eyes seemed to say. The King is vulnerable.
"Young Master," I whispered to Bruce. "We should leave. The police have the Joker. But the real threat... is still walking free."
As we grappled away into the snowy night, leaving the chaos behind, the Joker's screams echoed off the skyscrapers.
"IT'S NOT FAIR! I WROTE A SONG AND EVERYTHING!"
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