They managed to arrest the last accomplice at Saint-Olga's without any loss of lives. Apparently, seeing his buddies turned into animals had given the unwashed loser a serious wake-up call. They got him to leave quietly, without the need to rebuild anything. Bombs disarmed and brought to the police station.
Granted, that was only one part of the articles. The rest were…
"Dangerous meta in Gotham?" I read out loud. "Well, fuck you too… Jack Ryder? What was I supposed to do? Wait for Batman, who was out of town? Make them kings? Summon an army of angels?"
Okay, but the angel army, I have got to try that at some point. Once I am sure they won't try to smite me on sight.
With a scoff, I shoved the newspaper back in the stand and just grabbed myself a bag of chips and some lemon iced tea. The cashier barely glanced at me, her eyes like empty holes through which her soul had left her body. I could understand the feeling. Most customer-service jobs sucked.
"Keep the change," I mumbled as I pocketed my purchases.
"Have a nice day," she answered in a robotic voice.
I'll try.
It was sunny outside, which was a rarity for Gotham's weather. Usually, it was more cloudy with a high probability of smog. And ice-cold rain up to your knees, sucker.
It was a wonder any plants grew in such a place, but, hey, maybe Ivy could be blamed.
Robinson Park made the scenery flip from grey to green, and I couldn't be happier with that. Something about the shadow of trees was soothing for a countryside boy like me.
I went for the first bench I could find. The white and red splatters on the wood probably deterred the more respectable people. I just vanished them and sat on a bench that suddenly morphed into a plush sofa. When I was half-sunken into the cushions, I tore the bag open and popped the first chip in my mouth.
Passersby shot me the occasional odd look, but living in Gotham exemplified the saying about the curiosity and the cat. People generally never stuck their nose where it didn't belong. There was something ridiculous at how quickly some people averted their eyes the second they thought I had noticed.
Twice, a nervous security guard walked along the path, his face pale and his right hand hovering on his holster. He almost had a heart attack when I gave him a thumbs up.
The most interesting though were the three teenagers – one emo-looking boy, two brunettes – that whispered intensely amongst themselves, pointing at me.
"Need something, kids?"
The boy startled and put his hands on his friends' shoulder. The shortest of the two girls looked like she wanted to leave on the spot. But the other quirked her hips and marched up to my sofa. "You're the one on the news, aren't you?"
"Probably."
"I don't know anyone else that would be caught wearing that hoodie." She gesture to my yellow hoodie. "'The Gotham News called you 'Miracle Man'."
"I could be just a junkie, you know. But it's true. What of it?"
"Is it true? The rumor on the street?"
Groaning, I stretched up and forced myself into a sitting position. I absentmindedly wiped out crumbs off my shirt whilst yawning. "That is quite frankly the most vague way to confirm your suspicions. Make your point."
"We're going to Gotham Academy on a scholarship."
Her friends were making frantic cutting motion across their throats. Too bad she did not pay them any mind.
I snorted. Okay, fine, I was gonna grant their wish just for making me laugh.
"Our physic class is kicking our asses and the teacher doesn't have the time to deal with second-class citizens like us. If we fail that exam, it's our scholarship on the line. Can you help?"
"How? The answers to your exam imparted in your head?"
Cheaters had never impressed me before. If you could find the energy to prepare a cheating method, you could study instead. Of course, I really had no more room to talk. I was practically a walking cheat code to the universe.
"Nah, that's stupid. I was hoping you'd change our teacher's mind a bit. Make him less of an asshole."
The collective spirit of students throughout the multiverse cheered her on.
"Not gonna do that sort of influence on hearsay, try again."
"Well, at least, help make us better at understanding or something! I don't want to spend my whole life stuck in this shithole just 'cause some teach wouldn't give me the time of day to do their job."
"If that doesn't bother you, then sure. You three are now excellent at memorization." I put a finger to her forehead, for the dramatic effect. "Good luck. Now go study. And find yourself a tutor, for God's sake!"
She screwed up her face in concentration, a fiery grin on her face. "And how do I know you're not just saying that to get rid of me?"
"Either way, you'll have to study, so I suggest you get to it instead of hanging around parks with dangerous metas."
She snorted. "Yeah, right, you're as dangerous as a teddy bear." Her hand playfully patted my back. "Thanks for the help, M-Man."
"Don't mention it." I crushed my iced tea so hard it ceased to exist. "But seriously. Don't. I am not doing that for every teenager in Gotham. Congrats. You got the limited-time offer."
The look she sent me made me think she understood me far more than I was comfortable with. "Lucky us," she drawled.
I shooed her. "Fly, you fools. Go. Git."
"Sure, Gandalf."
Must not say 'You shall not pass'. It would be the dickiest dickmove of the week.
***
By sunset, I'd found my way back to Crime Alley. Now, I could live anywhere, but I wasn't gonna leave a certain few behind. Besides, if I had to get hounded by people, I'd rather it be by the people in desperate need than just the curious that would treat me like a circus act.
One thing I noticed though was the divide in public opinion. Nothing surprising, considering. But the more… local newspaper – low print, scarce few pages, black and white pictures, trashier topics – had a very different headline on the exact same blurry picture of me.
"New Hero to replace Batman?" I read out loud.
Are they trying to get me ki-- mildly inconvenienced by the man's disapproving glares?
It might explain the reactions. People either gave me a wide berth (those that didn't know the rumors) or swarmed me (those that did). Amazingly enough, most of them merely wanted an autograph or something similar. They weren't even begging me for, say, the power to create earthquake or the ability to turn what they touched into gold.
It was better, but it didn't make it fun.
Time for another go at anonymity.
I stopped. Ah, damn, I should have tried to give an interview! I could have controlled what got out, and what I didn't want to hear! Da-
Something bumped into my back.
There was a quiet thud behind me, and a muffled curse.
A kid. Very much the street variety, judging by the dirty white shirt and jeans. "Huh."
Our gaze met. His went to my feet for a split second, then stubbornly back up to me. He tried to pass off his mistake as nothing, but I noticed the missing weight in my right pocket. Ah.
The boy bolted.
"Whoa, wait a second there."
His body froze in mid motion, and despite his frantic flailing, fell face first to the ground.
"Shit!" I hissed. "Sorry, didn't mean to do that. Here, let me help you up."
Faint pain stung my hand as the street rat slapped it away. "Don't touch me."
That made me jump three steps back. Shit. Right. Maria's warnings to Alf implied a history of sexual abuse in Crime Alley. Fuck, I hoped that was just normal, street kid wariness of adults.
"No need to be scared, I'm not gonna hurt you or anything."
The sneer on his face showed me how much he believed that.
"It's true. I'm…" Urgh, can't believe I'm gonna say it. "I'm the Miracle Man. Y'know, the guy that just stopped a bunch of kidnappers from killing a dozen people?"
"Hu-uh." He rolled his eyes very obviously. Cheeky little shit.
Oh, wait, anonymous off.
He blinked in shock. "You?! What the- how did you?" His brows lowered. "Right. You can do anything. Gave a guy his leg back, gave out thousands to a whore, cured a kid's cancer, all that shit. Mom's pretty sure you're the second coming." Then, with lingering anger. "Was."
Figured. Street kids either had no parents, or no parents having business calling themselves that.
"What's your name, kiddo?"
He mulled that over, eying the wallet on the ground. "Jason."
The back of my neck tingled. That face… "Todd? Jason Todd? Son of Catherine and Willis Todd?"
The boy was too hardened to show any shock at my uncanny knowledge. He crossed his arms and raised his chin a bit, challenging.
Fuck. My favorite DC character of all time, and he didn't like me. As an aside note, I also had the power to drastically alter his fate and make sure he wasn't tortured to death and traumatized all the ways to Sunday. What did I do here? Obviously, avoiding his painful fate would be preferable, but shit, I really liked the Red Hood.
"What's it to you?" the boy asked, when the silence had stretched too long to be comfortable.
"Nothing, I guess. I was just surprised." He stared. I fumbled for some amazing explanation that would magically make the awkwardness vanish, and yes, I became aware of the irony the second the thought crossed my mind. "Right. You want this?"
My wallet floated up to Jason's eye level. He snatched it out of the air, not giving me the chance to take it back.
"I don't care if you're Him or just some meta with a big head, but I ain't believing in you. Either you don't wanna save us or you plain can't."
A gut punch would have hurt less.
That was the boy that had started his quest for survival. That knew he had to help himself 'cause no one else would. I could help him. I could change everything. But that would start with his mind. And fuck if I was gonna do that.
Good fortune. Continued good health. Enhanced resistance to harm. Enhanced resistance to the elements. Enhanced combat senses. Pathfinder skills.
"Yeah, I guess not. Keep the wallet. Not like I need it anymore."
Also, a couple of extra fifties in the wallet. Plus coupons for food, clothes, bus tickets. Phone number of social security. Secret phone numbers to Mount Justice and the Watchtower.
"Thanks," he said curtly.
I watched him leave with the unease that I didn't do nearly enough and far too much at the same time.
***
Most people knew this instinctively, it seemed, but somehow, I had to keep that lesson in mind: no matter how bad things seemed, it could always get worse. For example, televised proof that the 'Miracle Man' those bastards had been demanding DID exist and in fact, had metahuman powers.
I had had to expand the lobby to accommodate the flow of visitors today – Bad idea, right? Well, it was that, or let the desperate sit down outside in the cold rain every other day. I'm not that heartless.
I wish I was.
But no, I'd recruited a bunch of very religious elves from Fantasia who were on a pilgrim for their god. Apparently, helping The Creator perform miracles was the most amazing of experience. They didn't even need to eat or sleep. They fed on good deeds. At least, now I had triage and people for the minor injuries.
I had to teach them how to do it. As well as when. I really tried to give each problem the attention it needed. Situations were never black and white. Always shades of gray. Always a bit of mental gymnastic to see every angle.
Even time dilation didn't help me clear the backlog of wishers. Headaches had become a recurring problem. Curing myself every time they appeared didn't really fix the underlying causes. I took breaks in-between visitors, sat with an iced tea (I am an addict, I have no shame about this one), read a book. Then let my thoughts drift back to the desperate outside and start it all over again. Curing myself of mental fatigue… I had only ever pulled an all-nighter once in my life, and the experience had messed with my perception of time hard. This was ten times worse.
And there were still some desperate fuckers that were begging for dying loved ones and refused to listen when I told them to bring them HERE! Elves, good for reading into the hearts of men, not for stopping them from running up the stairs, apparently.
This one was a mom worried about her missing son. Couldn't teleport him there.
"Either you don't wanna save us or you just can't."
Little shit had the right of it. I'm not trying hard enough.
I snapped my fingers and a GPS appeared in the woman's hands. "There, bring that to the police."
She did not have time to melt into puddles of gratitude.
Next.
"It's about my son," began a man in his forties. Wore a high collar, little half-moon glasses. Mature air to him. "I'm worried about him."
I stifled a yawn. "Get to the point, please. There are hundreds still waiting."
"Darren's never been one for trouble. He's always been so quiet that I never even realized until a few weeks ago. I… I fear he might have moved away from God."
I slouched into my couch, my eyelids weighing a ton. Great. One of those. "Hmhm, so, what is it? Drugs? Premarital sex?"
"Oh, Heavens no." The father looked offended by the mere suggestion. "If it were only that."
I swear, if this is about video ga-
"I believe he feels an attraction to… men."
My eyes snapped wide open, ears vrilling with the shrill of shock.
"I never thought my baby boy would ever be able of such unnatural behavior."
There is a moral here… A horrible thought crossed my mind as I sat up. Boy oh boy, is there a moral here.
"I love him very much. I just don't want him to fall prey to sins. I want him to take care of his immortal soul."
"Punch yourself in the face."
The clock on the wall ticked three seconds away before the man's ears registered what I had just said. Two more until his eyes widened and he looked in horror at his right hand clenching into a fist.
The hit was awkward. Weak. Bad angle. Couldn't expect too much of a pudgy, mild-mannered homophobe, right?
"Hmm, again." Something in his nose crunched. Blood splattered. "Once more for good luck."
The man fell to the floor with a terrified, helpless cry.
"W-why are yo-"
Friendly fire. Hitting your own ally instead of your enemy. It really never occurred to you, huh?
"You will never be able to explain why you changed your mind, but you will go back home and tell your son you love him. That you will always love him, no matter what. It's the first thing that will come out of your mouth when you see him next. You will never again speak of homosexuality as a sin or a disease or any derogatory manner that would make your son sad. You will be nothing but supportive in a manner that your son will appreciate. If your son ever comes out to you, then you will accept him wholeheartedly, and his lovers with open arms, if they are good for one another. You will love him, you hear me? You will defend him against people's hateful belief, even if they come from the Pope himself. Even if they come from others member of your own family! You will sooner divorce your spouse than let them hurt your son!"
I stomped to my feet and the impact made the very floor tremble. The lights dimmed, the windows rattled. Thunder rumbled nearby, and still, it could not drown the noise of pulsing blood hammering in my chest.
The slime on the ground tried to crawl away. Ashen of face and of soul.
I grabbed his wrist, pulled him up, lifted him like he was an ant. He cried out in pain.
"You will be a fucking amazing father to your son! Regardless of if he is gay or bi or straight or whatever. Do you hear me?! Do you?!"
Weak, sputtered through tears and blood. "D… demon…"
"Look in the mirror."
And then, the apartment was empty. No whimpering. No sobbing. No traces of the blood that had dripped on my armchair.
Just me. And my own words in stereo.
You will.
"That was a geas. That was a geas. I mindcontrolled-" Did it work? "I shouldn't have done-" should have had the bastard kicked in the nuts– "Fuck, what if Batman hears about-" what of it - "He" – deserved it.
I couldn't feel my fingers. All my blood had gathered into my guts and curdled into an oozing black mass. I stumbled. I grabbed the edge of my bookshelf. The room span. My knees shook. Why wasn't I steady? Be steady. How could I be steady? I put someone under a geas. That's just wrong. I stole his free-
A full body heave cut straight through my thoughts. In desperation, I folded the space in my apartment and pulled the bathroom to me. Just in time to see my lunch disappear in the toilet bowl.
"I never thought my baby boy would ever be able of such unnatural behavior." If there is anything that would damn me to hell, it wouldn't be loving men.
My knees hit the bath math's spongy surface.
"It's one time," I whispered desperately. "It's o-" The rest faded into retching noise.
***
I tightened my hoodie around me. Cold still seeped under my skin. Shivers ran along my muscles, from the back of my neck to the bottom of my heels.
Rundown houses faded into decrepit factories and abandoned warehouses. One melting into the others whilst my thoughts swirled and my head swam. I had little control over my body, and that was the most fitting thing. I just moved. Moved so the voices could not catch up to me. So the words would fly over my head.
The light was fading, and I made no decision to go back. The petitioners would have understood that I wouldn't be taking anymore guests today. They would have to rely on the elves. They wouldn't know, but they would be the luckiest people.
Enough moping, I chastised myself. Though, the heart wasn't in it.
Through a complicated process that I only half remembered, I ended up on the nice side of town, on the harbour around the bay. The result wasn't what I expected of in a place like Gotham. Booths lined up the docks, lit with red and blue and yellow LED bulbs.
A carnival ambiance reigned over the docks. Some carousel music echoed two or three accordion players moving about. Smells of sugar and grease would coat people's clothes, like laughter did when people on stilts juggled with bowling pins and bright red balls. Tongues of flames licked the night's sky from the holes in the crowd, and childish applause followed the fire breathers' tricks.
Up at the very end of the dock, lights circled a silly neon bat's head. The animal winked at carnival goers with life-like mischief. I just had to imagine Batman's face imitating that, and I fell against the railing, bellowing laughter until I couldn't breath.
And then some. My insides pressing my lungs to forced out more wheezes, tears rolling on my cheeks despite the growing grin on my face.
The thought entered my mind that something was wrong about the time a grandmother choked on hysterical laughter.
And then five more. Ten. Twenty. Beyond counting.
Immunity to poisons. Perfect health.
I pulled myself upright, and I flinched as a young mother stumbled right at my feet. Her shrunken eyes pierced into me, blue turning green, twitching with a sort of panic-induced madness. She smiled too wide for her face, her cheeks straining yet paler than a corpse's.
I can't have anything, can I?!
Her death grip on my ankle shocked me back into my senses.
The gas is harmless. Every ill effects have been reverse. Everyone is amazingly healthy.
The woman's colors returned to her. Around me, most people stopped writhing in false joy.
Key words: 'around me'.
I leaped over the crowd coming to its senses. The ground rose back to meet me, and I rolled around without any dignity, because suddenly all my thoughts were Harmless gas, cure all ills, harmless gas, cure all ills, protection from harm, cure all ills, harmless gas, harmless gas- and Why did they have to make the place longer than one hundred meters?!
I lifted myself up using the Ferry Wheel's rails, and looked back to the docks, now silent with deadly fear. There was only one supervillain in Gotham that would dare use laughing gas.
"What in the world…?" complained a raspy, high voice. "Who just ruined my set-up? We had the whole audience in stitches, and now we have to re-cut them all over again!"
A pale man emerged from between the makeup artist's tent and the shooting game. I hadn't known it was possible for such a large group of people to collectively hold its breath until then. Children were being silenced with hands and bodies, hidden from sight. The person closest to me broke out in frantic prayers.
Psychotic green eyes found me with frightening speed. They'd jump over every recovering bystander and honed in on me. I saw the whole of him then. The blood red lips, the chalk-white skin, the demented smirk. The ease at which he twirled daggers between his fingers. A bit of flair too. Showmanship. A taste for drama and tragicomedy.
The guy with the most plausible claim of being Batman's archnemesis.
Did he recognize me? Can't. I made myself unrecognizable before.
"Oh. Joker." Why is this happening right now?
Hyena-like laughter burst out, and many people, not all of them young, broke down crying.
"Why, I was starting to think you hadn't heard of me. Me! Hahaha, you're so lucky, kid! If you hadn't, I would have had to explain to you in great details who I am and just what I do. You'd have had the front seat for the show! Right there, in the splash zone."
He swayed his way to me, purple coat trailing behind him, joker tie swaying from one side to the other. Maybe hypnotic. Most likely going to squirt acid at someone's face.
"I suppose you can simply be part of the show instead." He rose a dagger to touch my chin. His other hand snaked around my neck and brought me against his shoulder. "It's a blast, I promise! We gotta leave a present for Batsie to find, you know?"
"How about 'no'?"
Silence crashed onto the dock.
"Where's the Joker gone to?"
I dusted off my shoulder and bent down to pick the fallen dagger. I blew on it like on a birthday candle. It wavered, mirage-like, and faded away.
"What happened?!"
"That guy's a meta!"
"He said something about a bomb!"
Disarming all bombs.
"Where's the police?"
"Is the Joker back to Arkham?"
"D-did you… did you kill him?"
Collective hysteria answered that one for me.
"The Joker is dead! He's finally dead!"
I really couldn't help it. With a certain flourish, I hopped onto the Ferris' platform and bowed. "Ladies and Gentlemen, that was 'The Last Huzzah', performed by yours truly: The Joker."
A thousand voices fused into a roar of triumph so powerful the ground beneath my feet shook. Only one didn't join in. Crouching in the shadows of the carousel's roof, a shadow observed me through luminous white lenses.
"Is that the Saint of Crime Alley?" someone asked.
"Well, I'm giving him a sainthood if he isn't!"
"My sister can finally rest in peace."
"So can my uncle."
"And my three siblings."
"And my grand-parents. And best friends."
Okay, at that point, it was reaching gag territory.
"And my little dog too!"
I contemplated whether that was my fault. I had obviously tempted the universe just now.
And if not, then surely it had something to do with the four police cars that parked right on the edge of the boardwalk. Some officer with a megaphone just barely made himself heard: "We've received an anonymous tip that the Joker was attacking Amusement Miles. Where is he?"
"GONE!"
"Wh-what?! H-h-how?"
Ah. If only they hadn't been so enthusiastic to answer. But really, I didn't blame them. I'd be ecstatic in their place. A reign of terror that had lasted too long had ended, and with the floppiest flop to ever flop to boot. No infamy for the clown's last laugh.
Me, though?
A low gravelly voice came from right behind me. "You are going to come with me quietly."
My answer was near instantaneous.
"Fuck that. I'm done."
Batman's syringe broke itself on my skin.
"Yeah," I drawled. "How about you and I talk?"876