The Blue Zone (GCPD Headquarters) - Midnight
Commissioner James Gordon looked ten years older than he had three months ago. His glasses were cracked. His uniform was stained with soot.
He stood on the roof of the precinct, looking out at the barricades. His "Blue Boys"—the remaining honest cops—were holding the line against the madness.
"Coffee, Jim?"
Sarah Essen-Gordon, his wife and fellow officer, handed him a tin cup. She was holding a bundle in her other arm—a baby they had found in the rubble of a collapsed apartment building two days ago.
"Thanks, Sarah," Gordon took the cup. "You should be downstairs. The basement is safer."
"Nowhere is safe, Jim," Sarah smiled sadly, adjusting the blanket around the sleeping infant. "And besides, someone has to watch your back."
Suddenly, a flare went up from the perimeter.
BOOM.
The front gates of the precinct exploded.
A truck painted with garish green and purple swirls rammed through the barricade. It was playing a distorted ice cream truck jingle over a loudspeaker.
"Joker!" Gordon shouted, racking the slide of his shotgun. "All units! Defend the gate!"
The Narrows - Two Blocks Away
We were already moving.
Batman drove the Bat-Pod. Nightwing and Red Robin moved across the rooftops. I drove the transport truck, with Conner Kent riding shotgun (literally, holding a shotgun he found, though he didn't need it).
"They're breaching the Blue Zone," Bruce's voice barked over the comms. "Joker is making his move."
"He's not just attacking," I observed, watching the smoke rise. "He is creating a diversion. The attack pattern is chaotic, even for him. He is drawing the police to the front."
"Conner," Batman ordered. "Clear the gate. Nightwing, Robin, secure the perimeter. I'm going inside to find Gordon."
"What about me?" I asked, putting the truck in park.
"Watch the back door," Batman said. "Joker never enters through the front."
Inside the Precinct
The lobby was a firefight. Cops were trading shots with clowns carrying Tommy guns.
Sarah Essen ran to the basement. The nursery—a makeshift room in the old evidence locker—was down there. She had to secure the other infants found in the ruins.
She burst into the room.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
"Hello, Sarah!"
She spun around.
The Joker was sitting on a desk, legs crossed. He wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a rattle.
"Joker," Sarah leveled her service pistol at his heart. "Don't move."
"Relax, Commissioner-ess!" Joker giggled. "I'm just here for the babies! I thought I'd start a daycare! 'Uncle J's School for Giggle-Pussies!'"
"Get away from them," Sarah stepped between him and the cribs.
"Or what?" Joker hopped off the desk. "You'll shoot me? In front of the little ones? Think of the trauma!"
"I won't hesitate," Sarah's hand was steady. "Drop it."
Joker sighed. "Everyone is so serious in this town lately. No Man's Land? More like No Fun Land!"
He reached behind his back.
"Don't!" Sarah shouted.
Joker pulled his hand out. He wasn't holding a weapon. He was holding one of the babies he had snatched from a crib before she entered.
"Catch!" Joker yelled.
He threw the infant across the room.
It was a reflex. A human, maternal reflex.
Sarah didn't think. She dropped her gun. She dove.
She caught the baby inches from the concrete floor, cradling it to her chest, rolling to break the fall.
She looked up, relief washing over her.
Then she saw the Joker standing over her. He was holding her dropped gun.
"Good catch," Joker whispered.
He pointed the gun at her forehead.
"Sarah!" Gordon's voice echoed from the stairwell.
Joker smiled. A terrible, thin smile.
"Merry Christmas."
BANG.
The sound was deafening in the small room.
Sarah Essen fell back. The baby in her arms started to cry.
Joker dropped the gun on her body. He stepped over her, whistling, and walked toward the back exit.
The Back Alley
I stood by the rear door, listening to the chaos inside.
The door swung open.
The Joker stepped out. He adjusted his purple suit, checking for blood splatters.
He looked up and saw me.
"Ah! The Butler!" Joker clapped. "Did you bring the hors d'oeuvres?"
I looked at him. I smelled the gunpowder. I smelled the fresh blood on his shoes. It was the scent of a specific kind of tragedy.
"What have you done?" I asked, my voice dropping to a demonic growl.
"Just a little housekeeping," Joker shrugged. "Tidying up the plot threads!"
I took a step forward. My fingers elongated into claws. The contract forbade me from killing humans unless they threatened the Master directly. But the Joker... the Joker tested every limit of my restraint.
"You are a stain," I hissed. "And I should wipe you out."
"Do it!" Joker spread his arms. "End the joke! But if you do... Batsy will be soooo mad!"
Suddenly, the door burst open again.
James Gordon stumbled out. He wasn't wearing his glasses. He was holding a revolver. He looked like a man whose soul had just been ripped out.
"Freeze!" Gordon screamed.
Joker turned around, hands up, grinning. "Jim! Old boy! Did you see the mess downstairs? I think I left a spot."
Gordon walked up to him. He jammed the gun into Joker's eye socket.
"I'm going to kill you," Gordon wept. "I'm going to kill you right now."
"Do it!" Joker laughed. "Come on, Commissioner! Break the rule! Join the club! It's liberating!"
Gordon's finger tightened on the trigger. He was shaking.
"Jim. Don't."
Batman dropped from the roof, landing silently beside them.
"He killed her, Batman!" Gordon screamed, not looking away from the Joker. "He killed Sarah! She was holding a baby!"
"I know," Batman said softly. "I saw."
"He doesn't deserve a trial! There is no trial! There is no law!"
"There is us," Batman said. "If you kill him... the law dies with her. You become just another warlord with a gun."
Gordon sobbed. The grief was overwhelming. He wanted to do it. Every fiber of his being wanted to end the nightmare.
"Please, Jim," Batman put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Don't let him win."
Gordon screamed—a primal sound of rage.
He moved the gun.
BANG.
He shot the Joker in the kneecap.
"GAH!" Joker fell, clutching his shattered knee. "You... you shot me! That hurts!"
Gordon dropped the gun. He fell to his knees in the mud.
"Get him out of here," Gordon whispered. "Get him out before I change my mind."
Batman looked at me.
"Secure the prisoner."
I walked over to the Joker, who was whimpering and laughing at the same time. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the transport truck.
"You're rougher than Alfred," Joker complained.
"Alfred is a gentleman," I whispered, throwing him into the back with the crates. "I am not."
I slammed the door.
The Funeral - Dawn
We buried Sarah Essen in the garden of the ruined precinct. There were no coffins available. We used a crate from the relief supplies.
Batman stood on a gargoyle, watching from a distance. He couldn't go down there. Not now.
Gordon stood by the grave, holding the baby Sarah had died to save.
I stood beside him, holding an umbrella over his head against the gray rain.
"She was the best of us," Gordon whispered.
"She was," I agreed.
"Why do we do it, Sebastian?" Gordon asked, looking at the destroyed city. "Why do we fight for this pile of rubble?"
"Because if we do not," I said, looking at the baby in his arms, "then the rubble is all that remains."
Gordon looked at the Bat-Signal, shattered but still standing on the roof.
"The Joker is locked up?"
"In the sub-basement," I confirmed. "Red Robin is guarding him. He will not escape."
"Good."
Gordon adjusted his coat. He put his glasses back on. The lens was cracked, fracturing his view of the world.
"Tell the Batman," Gordon said, his voice hardening into steel. "Tell him the Blue Zone stands. And tell him... we're taking the city back. Inch by inch."
"I shall convey the message."
I bowed and walked away into the mist.
The tragedy had not broken the Commissioner. It had calcified him.
The war for No Man's Land was no longer a rescue mission. It was a crusade.
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