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The heart before him has long since rotted from the inside out.
Tim feels sick looking at the thing, kept on ice and on full display in the cave as Bruce runs tests on it. Someone had shot the Joker before removing the heart. The thing leaks sluggishly and every drop makes the bile rise farther in Tim’s throat. It had been only an hour since the box had been found on the steps of Wayne Manor, addressed to Bruce Wayne. Alfred delivered it to Bruce’s desk in his study.
Every vigilante in Gotham had been called to the cave. Cassandra sits perched up in the rafters, peering down at the proceedings below her. Barabra is at the Bat-computer, looking through the security footage of Arkham. Dick is with Bruce running tests on the heart, and Tim, Steph and Duke are looking through the extensive files they have on the Joker. The tension in the cave is suffocating.
Tim glances over to see Barbra waving the birds over, save for Bruce and Dick. They surround her as she gives them a run down of what they are looking at.
“From what we know, someone broke into Arkham, somewhere between the hours of 12:30 and 2am. No guards saw them enter or leave, nor did any security cameras. Apparently a few inmates saw the suspect leave and describe them as about 6’ tall, broad muscles, wearing all black, and carrying Joker’s heart and head. The head was found on the steps of the Gotham PD at about 6:30 in the morning. Despite the police’s best efforts, many civilians saw and were able to take photos and videos of the head, so that’s all over the internet.” Barbra sighs, glancing over at Bruce’s hunched back before continuing. “The heart was found in a cardboard box left on the steps of Wayne Manor. None of our security cameras picked up the suspect.”
She pulls up a photo of the crime scene, and of the body. “From the coroner's report, there are a few things of note. One, the Joker was beaten with a long metal object, breaking his jaw, 6 ribs, both arms and his collarbone. Two, the head and heart were both removed postmortem. Three, the coroner concluded that these were experienced cuts. Not indicative of a doctor or medical professional, but more in line with that of an experienced killer.”
Stephanie puts her hand up. Barbra nods to her. “What do they think he was beaten with?”
“We’re not sure, something like a tire iron or a crowbar.” Barbra breezes past the last word, too fast to let her voice crack on it.
A pointed cough cuts off any more discussion. Dick and Bruce come to stand next to Barbra, facing the Birds.
“The box was addressed to me. There was no note.” Bruce said flatly. “Obviously whoever this killer is knows that I am Batman. Bruce Wayne has no personal connection that would warrant this.”
“And the rogues used to say the Joker’s heart always belonged to the Bat.” Dick says, mostly so Bruce doesn’t have to. “If they know B’s identity it is safe to assume that they know all our identities. We are dealing with possibly our greatest threat yet.”
Tim glances over. Cass seems to agree, as he suspected she would. But Duke and Steph both have more conflicted expressions. Living in the Narrows and the Bowery, the two of them have been exposed to the worst things Joker has done. Duke especially, losing his parents to the mad man. And Stephanie, watching as hundreds of people over her childhood were carted away in body bags. Neither of them seem too broken up about it.
He looks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a torn Robin suit and decides he’s not all that upset either.
But Bruce and Dick are right. Someone, a very skilled and sophisticated killer broke into Arkham, killed the Joker then delivered his heart to Bruce. All the signs of a new up and coming rogue. Maybe someone hoping to take the Clown Prince of Crime’s spot as Batman’s nemesis.
“I want all of you to be vigilant. No one patrols alone. Barbra’s already gotten in contact with the Sirens, who have agreed to keep an eye out for anyone taking credit or acting more suspicious than usual. I’ve called Kate, she’ll be back in town in two days to help pick up the slack on the nightshift.” Bruce tells them.
They all take a file to review before patrol tonight. Alfred drives Tim, Steph and Duke to school at Gotham Prep. The three of them are on their phones. Tim scrolls through different social media sights. All of them are filled with the same stuff. The Joker’s dead, it is a pretty big deal.
Alfred drops them off and Tim heads to his first class, math. Instead of teaching them though, the teacher puts on the news covering the case. Tim zones back in after a few minutes to listen to what the news caster is saying.
“Very little is known about what transpired last night. All we can say for certain is that the Joker was killed in his Akham cell, and that his head was removed and left at the GCPD building early this morning. Taking us live to the GCPD press conference is Janice.”
The camera switches to live footage of the GCPD. Obviously they took the head inside and cleaned any blood left over, but still, people gave the steps where it was a wide berth. Commissioner Gordon stands at a podium.
“Citizens of Gotham, please, listen to me. We are doing everything we can to apprehend this killer. If anyone has any information, please contact the GCPD. This crime will not go unpunished. We are doing what we can to ensure the safety of this city.”
Reporters clamour for the first question and Gordon points to one of them. “Commissioner, many people are asking, how this city thinks they will manage to convict this killer. So far there have been celebrations in the street, people have been calling for the death of the Joker for years. We find it very unlikely any jury would move to convict, do you care to comment?”
“This was murder, plain and simple. Whether or not a jury will find the killer guilty is not up to me or my colleagues, but to the people of Gotham who will sit on the jury.”
There is more clamouring, more questions and lackluster answers, but Tim zones back out, instead scrolling on his phone. It’s true what the reporter said, there are pictures of people celebrating Joker’s death. Tim can’t say he blames them. If he didn’t think it would get him in trouble with the school, his parents and Bruce, he would be out there too, smashing a Joker pinata.
Still though, this killer is dangerous. And they can’t count on them sticking to criminals.
Someone who knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, an experienced killer, with the skill to sneak in and out of Arkham almost entirely undetected, and possibly had a grudge against Joker. That describes about a third of B’s massive rogue’s gallery. Though he thinks if it was one of the well known rogues, like Ivy or Dent, they would have seen something more theatrical. If it was someone lesser known, but wanting to move up in the ranking’s, he expects they would have left some sort of calling card, something to claim the crime as their own.
This could be an entirely unknown entity, someone they have no information on yet.
Tim continues to ponder the facts throughout the day. The response from his prep school classmates is pretty positive. There is no love lost for the Joker.
School thankfully ends, and Tim peels off into the city on his skateboard. Steph is going to hang out with Cass, and Duke is going to visit his parents, so Tim is alone. Predictably, he ends up in Crime Alley. It’s a beloved part of the city for Tim. Taking photos of Batman and Robin at night on the rooftops, eating street food his parents would turn their nose at, patrol’s with his family.
Crime Alley looks happier and brighter than he has ever seen it. People have flooded the streets, all with smiles on their faces. People have set up tables with food and drinks, children are playing in the street, music plays all around him.
He stops at the sight of candles. There are pictures tapped up to the front of a building, with trinkets, stuffed animals and candles in front of it. Joker victims.
Someone waves at him and he recognizes some of the working girls that had helped him out as a kid. “Timmy! Come here! Have a burger!”
He walks over and is pulled into a large circle of people, all eating and talking. Someone puts a burger and a soda in his hands.
He closes his eyes, taking in the pure joy radiating from these people, the carefree looks on their faces. There will always be more rogues, there will always be more crime and chaos, but today is a good day. And they get so few in Gotham, people may as well enjoy it.