NOVEL NEXT Chapter 343: Game Over, Joker
Upstairs in the dilapidated residential building, the Bat-Signal projected like a pillar into the dark clouds, casting the image of a massive bat.
Gordon gripped the Joker playing card tightly in his hand and looked up at the sky, hoping to see the figure of Batman descending from above.
"What's the situation?"
Suddenly, a low voice came from behind him.
Bardi, now suited in full Bat gear, had become Batman. He stepped onto the crumbling water tower on the rooftop, his cape billowing in the wind as he looked down at Gordon.
He had jumped silently from the high-altitude Batfighter, which had entered stealth mode. Just as in Batman's memories, he landed in a spot where Gordon wouldn't see his descent, then stepped forward with a lifted posture, his cape fluttering against the night. He carried an air of mystery and authority, and questioned Gordon.
Naturally, part of this was for form. Bardi knew that in the future, Gotham would inevitably require cooperation with Gordon—or even be handed over to him. So he took this opportunity to get a good look at the man.
"Barbara was taken by the Joker! I knew she was Batgirl!"
Gordon gritted his teeth as he turned to Batman, his heart heavy with anguish.
It was impossible to predict what might happen when his daughter fell into the hands of someone as unhinged as the Joker.
"Please... save her!"
Gordon raised the playing card, his fingers trembling, eyes misty. The card bore the Joker's signature grin, mocking and cruel.
In the darkness, Bardi gazed at the worn and weathered Gordon. His eyes shifted to the Joker card. He recalled the Joker's intended target—the Gotham Television Directorate—and quickly pieced things together.
He spoke in a low voice, "Go home and turn on the TV. I'll save her."
Without waiting for a response, Bardi leapt backward and vanished into the night. From the top floor of the old building, he spread his cape and descended.
On the dark street below, the Batmobile sat at the far end of the road, like a phantom of the night. Its rear engine flared blue as it accelerated, speeding off in an instant.
Gordon opened his mouth, as if he were about to say he wanted to go help save his daughter too. But before the words left his lips, Batman had already leapt off the rooftop.
He sighed inwardly.
He ran to the edge of the rooftop and looked down. Just in time to see Batman land directly in the driver's seat of the Batmobile, the hood closing smoothly behind him.
The Batmobile tore off into the darkness, becoming a distant speck of light in mere seconds.
"Master, do you really think you can fly? You were falling at over 120 kilometers per hour. You can't just jump because it looks cooler."
Alfred was panicked. In the past, Bruce was strong at the peak of human capability but he'd never attempted something this reckless.
If there had been even the slightest misalignment between the speed of the car and the fall, if he'd missed the seat by even a fraction, it would've been over.
Even landing in the seat meant taking an impact equivalent to being hit at 120 kilometers per hour. If it weren't for the shock absorption of the Karaf armor and the cockpit structure, he might have turned into pulp. The thought alone was terrifying.
"I calculated everything. It's safe."
Bardi straightened his back. His spine cracked with a pop, sending a rush of comfort through him. With the buffer from muscle conditioning and internal sensors, the entire maneuver had been just a calculated warm-up.
With Bruce's body at peak human performance and Bardi's own enhancements and calculations, he could perform feats far beyond the original Batman's limits. What seemed thrilling or suicidal to outsiders was well within his margin of safety.
Alfred sighed helplessly and continued, "According to the latest scan, the roof of the Gotham Television Directorate is rigged with explosives. There's no way to enter from there."
"Can you identify which floor the Joker is on?"
"Based on surveillance and intrusion analysis, the Joker has appeared on the 3rd, 6th, 7th, 10th, 15th, and 17th floors. A group of the Joker's men are gathered on the 17th. So is he on the 17th?"
"Not necessarily. Find out which floor has live broadcast capabilities, like the news studio. With Barbara captured, the Joker will want all of Gotham to witness the fall of Batgirl. He might plan to humiliate her in front of the public."
"Understood. If it's a live broadcast, then we can rule out the 17th floor. That's where the station's executive banquet is held—they're probably being held hostage. The 10th floor is the live broadcast studio. The 15th handles TV drama production. So it's likely the Joker is on one of those."
"Good. Prep the remote Batfighter to cover me. I'll scale the building from the outside and locate the Joker."
"You're not planning to jump off another rooftop, are you?"
"Don't know."
Bardi answered indifferently. Through the windshield, the Gotham Television Directorate was already in sight.
The building was far shorter than Wayne Tower. No comparison.
Bardi parked the Batmobile in a hidden spot. He crouched low in a corner, watching the front entrance.
Two security guards stood there. One looked bored, his cap tilted, spinning a baton lazily. He didn't look like a guard at all. The other was even more blatant, enjoying a hallucinogen right there on the ground.
"Looks like the Joker Gang has taken over the whole building. Notify Gordon to begin clearing the premises in five minutes."
Bardi spoke into the comm.
He then stepped back, activated thermal imaging in the Bat helmet, and pulled out two suction devices. He began scaling the outer wall like a spider. As he moved, he deployed a small nerve gas bomb from the Imperial City arsenal—sufficient to paralyze an entire floor of regular people, rendering them temporarily unconscious and immobile.
...
20th Floor.
In a dark room, a spotlight beamed down from above, illuminating Batgirl—Barbara—unconscious and still in costume. She was lying on a run-down square table, like a modern-day Snow White in a cursed sleep.
To the side, the broadcast crew trembled under the Joker Gang's guns, forced to prepare for a live transmission.
"Headset... ready."
"Camera is set..."
"All other programming interrupted..."
"Ready... to go live..."
The cameraman's voice was shaky, his hands trembling.
The Joker wore a purple tuxedo, his seaweed-green hair slicked back. His face was pale and painted, looking lively and deranged.
He pointed at the camera crew and smirked. "Don't shake. Don't be scared. I just want to use this little method to invite the little bat to come join our city-wide party."
He smiled and wagged a finger at the trembling staff, then turned around, smoothed his hair with both hands, and stepped into the spotlight to begin his "performance."
With a snap of his fingers, the live broadcast began.
The Joker's face instantly appeared across Gotham, on every television screen.
"Everyone... now that you all know Bruce is Batman, I wonder how long it will take for the Bat to find me?"
"Little bat, I'm waiting for you."
"Now, let's play a game... with Batgirl."
As he grinned, holding a scalpel and reaching for Barbara's face.
Suddenly.
On the TV screen, a pistol slowly entered the frame, pressing against the Joker's temple.
"Game over, Joker."
(To be continued.)