2014.04.02 - Emergency

Moments ago, a call goes out across all channels used for communication within the Bat Family. It's rare that Batman makes any such announcement, and the urgency with which it is issued is disconcerting.

Batman: SOS. Monarch Theater. Urgent.

Shortly after the alert went up, Alfred's voice sounded in Cardinal's earpiece.

"Master Timothy," the old butler speaks, a hint of desperation and fear in his tone, "I'm not able to raise Master Bruce on his communications. The feed from his cowl is ... you need to get there as soon as you can. Please."

Cardinal hits the Redbird, throwing into gear and setting the GPS for the Monarch. Not that he needs it, of course, Batman's had them all memorize every nook and cranny of Gotham, but the Redbird's autodrive functions give him the option to pay less attention to navigation and more to work. "Alfred, see if you can check his GPS markers, both personal and on the Batmobile. I'm heading for the Monarch now. I'm sure she knows, but notify Oracle anyway and get her cracking, I wanna make sure that's a genuine message. Doesn't seem likely, but we already know Joker's going hero hunting, and I wouldn't put it past him to hire a hacker to lure us in..."

“Tim, I – “ for a moment Alfred forgets his ever-present decorum, tapping a few keys to bring up a small picture-in-picture feed on Cardinal’s HUD, “You should see this.”

The picture, timestamped a few minutes ago, is labeled as being from the point of view of Batman’s cowl. The Joker walks towards him, unusually sullen and serious, and Batman reaches out to cuff him. In a flash, the Clown sprays a cloud of purple gas directly at the camera – directly at Batman’s face. The Joker says something, though the audio is not piped through, and then walks away as the POV falls to the floor, convulses and then goes still.

Nevertheless, Alfred diligently sends the information out as requested.

Cardinal growls and smacks a hand against the steering wheel, "God damned clown," he mutters, knowing Alfred's delicate sensibilities won't be offended given the circumstances. He pushes the gas harder, finally whipping into position in front of the Monarch, he re-examines the video again and pops up a layout of the Monarch itself, trying to compare features in the background of of the image to locations within the architecture. He turns on a search algorithm he wrote for the exact purpose, based on facial recognition software, but matching up known architecture and blueprints with location images. He was in the process, actually, of attempting to take 360 degree pictures inside every Gotham landmark to try and get a searchable database out of it.

He'd hit the Monarch four months ago.

While the proceess runs, he pops the door and gears up, staff, knockouts, shuriken, a few extra treats...transfers the search into his own HUD and starts to head inside, "No time for subtle, Alfred, I"m going in the front. See if you can rouse Dick or Cass," he says and, after a moment's pause, "Or even Damian, I suppose."

“Right away,” Alfred answers, tapping off the comm to search for the rest of the Bat Clan while Cardinal steps into the Theater. The same venue a young Bruce Wayne visited the night his parents were murdered. Crime Alley, running alongside the decaying old building, is the scene of that particular crime. But now is not the time for reminiscing.

The scene before Cardinal in the theater is almost a tranquil one. Paintings of the Joker’s face on wooden boards and pointing fingers direct the way to one of the cinemas. Inside, a set has been hastily built and then blown apart. What looks like a wooden scaffold of some kind has come down at the far end where the screen is, some still-smoking bits of rubble lying there.

Nearest to the door is a man dressed as Peter Pan, his leg badly broken by the looks of it even though he is rolling back and forth with a rictus grin and cackling almost maniacally. Though he’s laughing the pain and fear in his eyes is unmistakable.

Further away, lying flat on his back, is what appears to be another man in costume. This one has been beaten savagely around the head until he is little more than swelling and blood. He laughs too, what remains of his face having contorted into a similar grin.

And then, near to the beaten man, is Batman. He’s lying still. Painfully still. His cape pooled about him. There is no sign of the Joker.

Cardinal wants to rush forward. His mentor, his teacher, his father, in many ways, lies there, prone, seemingly broken. Everything hear bears the Joker's wicked fingerprints, screams of his psychotic mind at work.

Which, of course, is why Cardinal can't trust it.

He keeps his mask tight, the filters designed to remove any gases or toxins in the air. He ignores the civilian, right or wrong, and extends his bo staff with a soft click. He moves forward warily, alternating between checking shadows and floor.

Booby traps, after all, are Joker's idea of foreplay.

"Batman," he calls, firmly. If Batman is conscious or capable of answering, Cardinal knows that he will.

The other men continue to laugh, though Peter Pan’s is interspersed with pained yowling and the beaten man can barely get it out past his broken jaw and missing teeth.

No gases fill the air, whatever it was that affected the men has dissipated completely. No trap is sprung as Cardinal makes his approach.

Batman, however, finally moves. Just briefly he lifts himself from the ground, struggling to keep himself aloft before collapsing onto his side and facing out towards Cardinal. His features are unmistakably those of Bruce Wayne, save for a pallor over his flesh and a contorted, rictus grin.

“H-heh,” he gurgles through clenched teeth, as though struggling to hold it back, “Ahn ... ahn ... “

Cardinal doesn't hesitate for a second longer, springing forward, "Alfred, prep IVs and emergency supports, NOW,' he says. The antidote is in his hand in seconds, a sharp prick in the side of Bruce's neck as Tim injects the antidote right into the vein, "I'm bringing him back fast, send someone out to retrieve the car," he says. He wants to just haul Bruce straighi tout, get him home, but he's well trained and, once he's sure Bruce is at least stabilized, he goes around to pass the antitode around, hitting the other vicitms one at a time, but keeping an eye out. You never know when a wild card is going to be dealt.

"Guh!"

Batman lets out a gasp as the antidote hits his blood stream, freeing his muscles from its grip slowly. His faculties return in part, though it will still be many minutes before he's fully recovered. The other men similarly begin to relax as the antidote is administered.

"Heh," Batman offers, trying once more to prop himself up on a knee though he's obviously still week, " ... Car ... car ... "

Cardinal frowns, "Alfred, any info on the GPS for the Batmobile? Are its security protocols in place?" he asks quickly propping Bruce up and moving him out towards the Redbird...

“Already returning to base,” Alfred replies through Cardinal’s earpiece, “Do you need it, sir?”

Batman weakly rises to his feet, leaning on Cardinal as he helps him down from the stage and towards the door.

“Car ... heh ... Card ... nal,” Batman insists, tugging on the former Robin’s sleeve urgently as they go, “Lock ... lock ... heh heh.”

Cardinal isn't quite sure what Batman's saying, but he's heard the word 'lock', so he does two things: "Double check the car, make sure it's not being messed with. And do the same for the Redbird, including activating security locks and lock the engine to my remote ignition only.

“Doing so now, sir,” Alfred replies.

“Nuh ... heh heh ... “ Batman growls between spasms of uncontrollable laughter, practically tearing at his own uniform before tugging on Cardinal’s arm once more, “Nuh ... no!”

He shakes his head, gasping for breath as his barely-mobile figure is led out into the street, “Luh … lock … lock me … “

He thumps his own chest with his fist.

“Lock ... heh ... “

Cardinal almost snarls in frustration, as much over Bruce's inability to communicate as anything. "Lock you?" he asks, eyes narrowing behind the crimson lenses of his mask. On the one hand, he wants to make sure he understands. On the other hand, he slips a pair of titanium cuffs into his other hand. If Bruce is somehow compromised..."Or look me? Do I need to search you for something?"

Batman's inability to communicate seems to be infuriating him as well. He gives up on speaking, instead putting his strength into reaching for his utility belt. His fine motor functions decreased for the moment, it takes several tries before he manages to flick the latch open and pull free a pair of the cuffs he distributes amongst the Bat Family for locking up criminals.

"Lock," he almost spits out forcefully through his clenched teeth, clapping the cuff around his wrist, "Me."

Cardinal doesn't understand, but does as he's told. He's not a creature of unquestioning obedience by any means, but there are times to argue and times to just do what the man says. If it's pointless, then it's harmless. If it's necessary, he's stupid not to do it. So, he cuffs Batman...not only that, he double cuffs him, using Bruce's set and his own, locking his arms at the small of his back. He leans him up against the Redbird, but doesn't go in yet. He's willing to wait out the effects of the serum here...he needs to know more before he goes squealing off into the night. "Take your time. Don't force it. Speak when you're ready." he says simply.

Apparently satisfied after he’s been cuffed, and even nodding in approval as Cardinal adds the second set, he leans against the car. Slowly the effects begin to wear off on him, though he’s still without much of his strength and he takes long, deliberate breaths. His speech, however, appears to have returned. Albeit stunted and difficult.

“Lost focus,” he explains, “Control. Joker noticed. Changed. Need to re ... reevaluate.”

Cardinal shakes his head. "I don't understand. You lost focus?" he says, sounding a bit incredulous. And, really, who can blame him. "Why? And what's the Joker done differently?"

“Nothing,” Batman answers with a vigorous shake of his head, “Was me. He ... didn’t think I was ‘’playing’’. Got mad. Angry. Not manic.”

He takes a deep breath, staring silently at Crime Alley ensconced in shadow nearby. Only a few days ago was the anniversary of his parents’ death on that very stretch of pavement. And the Monarch Theater? The place he saw the Mark of Zorro with them that same night.

He leaves it all unsaid, though.

Cardinal nods. He hadn't forgotten, but he had let it get to the backburner. The location. Which worries him, a bit. On the one hand, Joker seemed to react badly (does he ever react well) to the wrath he unleashed in Batman. On the other...it seems a coincidence, to battle him here, of all places. Especially aftere Spoiler had already been compromised.

It worries him.

He puts Bruce in the 'bird, still bound, peeling off just as the ambulances and cop cars turn the corner. They don't bother to chase. Even if they wanted to, they know they'd lose.

His words have returned to him for the most part, only the weaknesses and lack of motor functions remains.

“I lost control,” Batman explains from the passenger seat, head bowed slightly and his eyes staring, “Didn’t see the Joker and his thugs. Saw Him. The man who killed my parents. Almost killed that man in there because I wasn’t thinking.”

He lets out a sigh, turning his face away. It’s a painful, frustrating confession he’d likely make to nobody else but Alfred.

“I don’t trust myself. The case with the McHeighs is similar to my parents’. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re connected. If the Joker can prompt an episode like that by accident then I shouldn’t be in the field. I’m going into lockdown in the Cave. For tonight. Tomorrow. Maybe longer. When I’m ready then I’ll know. You, Damian and Cassandra will need to maintain a presence. I’ll call Dick.”

Cardinal wants to argue about it, but now is not the time. Joker on a tear and trying to rattle Bruce's cage meant he needed a show of strength, not a retreat. But not right after the Monarch. Nothing he could do about it tonight, anway, and he'd want Bruce out of the field at least a day for medical after getting toxined anyway. After that...maybe they'd have a discussion.

In the meantime, Tim might have to put some of his burgeoning love life on hold. Because it was pretty clear that it was going to take a detective to track down the Joker.

And if Batman was pulling his name out of the hat, Tim was the second best they had.