Chapter Ten: Taskforce
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
It was early to mid-July when I next met with Gordon, believing enough time had passed us by that it might be safe enough to reconvene with our communications once more. I had been wrong. Dead wrong. And whence I bounded up onto the rooftops of the GCPD building to meet with my old friend, I was lambasted harshly by him.
“You can’t be here!”
“I have a favor…”
“Did you hear me?! We cannot be doing this anymore. You need to disappear, and for good this time!” Jim tried to keep his voice low, but the aggravation in his tone had made it impossible.
“I heard you.”
“Look, the Joker’s locked up in Arkham, the red hoods have seemingly all disappeared, it’s over. You did good. You did great, in fact, and I owe you. But this has to end. You have to know… you’re a criminal in the eyes of the law. Hell, even I can’t keep making excuses for you. After Crane, you were content to disappear. But now, for reasons I can’t begin to understand, the Batman keeps making headlines in the papers and the GCPD can only ignore it for so long before…”
I stood silently, patiently, awaiting the conclusion to this rant.
“I’m heading up a task force to bring you in.”
My stomach most assuredly should have sunk at this news, but in my deep set arrogance, I knew he was indebted to me, and that I was far safer with him in charge of such an operation than if anyone else were to be selected for it. I was, after all, still standing there, uncuffed. Nor did he move to attempt an arrest.
“Grogan’s been installed as acting Commissioner for an undetermined period of time. Very likely it’ll be made permanent in the coming weeks. He knows I’ve gone to bat for you in the past. A lot of cops have lodged complaints to him about their suspicions that we're working together. This is how Grogan’s decided he’s going to discipline me. To ensure that I fall in line.”
“I’m sorry, Jim.” What else could I say?
“I’m sorry too. But you have to understand, there’s nothing I can do about this. My one and only job from this point forward is to bring you in. You need to put an end to this vigilantism once and for all.”
I waited, unsure of what else to do, and then reached into my belt and pulled out a piece of paper with the names of the occupants of Arkham Asylum.
“I need the official reports on these men. Any and all information you have on them.”
“Did you not hear even a fucking word of what I just said?”
“You owe me,” I put it plainly, and did not hide the acidity in my words.
“I…” he was taken aback. Shock overcame him, and the muscles in his face twitched uneasily as he stared back at me. “Fine. FINE! This is the last time. We’re done after this. I don’t wanna see you or hear from you again. I’ve already destroyed that comm device you gave me, so don’t bother with that either.”
“Tomorrow night,” I said. “Same time and place.”
“I oughta let ‘em all know. What’s to stop me, huh? Maybe I want that Commissioner position for myself, ever think of that?”
“I’ve thought about that,” my words were met with another blank stare. “See you tomorrow.”
From the audio logs of Dr. Hugo Strenj
Strenj: This is Doctor Hugo Strenj of Arkham Asylum, audiolog number seventy-two. July the thirteenth, nineteen forty.
We are once again here with my new friend, the Joker. How are you feeling today?
Joker: Delightful! Never been better! Over the moon! Randy-Dandy!
Strenj: Right, then…
Joker: I’m not done yet!
Strenj: Please, Joker, we are very limited on time. The courts have given me strict instructions on the amount of time I am able to interact with you, due to your euh…
Joker: Overwhelming desirability? You don’t trust yourself around me.
Strenj: Quite frankly, your ability to get under one’s skin.
Joker: In fairness, I think I’d look pretty fabulous wearing yours. Hllhllhllhllhll!
Strenj: Uh… eh… anyway… from what the police have pieced together, you gained a wealth of followers who were mutilated by the morally despicable members of the populace. It would seem pertinent to me if you’d shared in their painful history, and thus, those scars upon your face would suggest -
Joker: Would you like to hear a knock-knock joke?
Strenj: Please, not now, Mister Joker.
Joker: Knock-knock!
Strenj: …Who’s there?
Joker: Howard.
Strenj: Howard who?
Joker: Howard ya like it if I cut you into tiny little pieces and buried you six feet under this floor? Heheheh!
Strenj: Amusing. Truly. Now, about the red masked men…
Joker: The ones with the black suits and ties?
Strenj: Yes.
Joker: Never heard of them.
Strenj: I know what you are doing, and might I just say -
Joker: Oh please, no one reeeeally knows what I’m doing. Not even I know what I’m doing. What fun is there when you know step by step every little detail of what’s going to happen next? Do you think I’d take any pleasure in knowing how I might kill you and escape?
Strenj: You certainly did when it came to your previous victims.
Joker: Lhlhlhlhlhlhl! No, no, no, see? It wasn’t a matter of how I was going to kill them, it was how or if the Batman would be able to stop me from doing so!
Strenj: YES! Yes, exactly! The Batman! Oh, finally we are getting somewhere.
Joker: I haven’t moved this entire time, doctor. Well… except for my bowels, that is…
Strenj: So when you say… (sniff) oh… oh, oh dear…
Joker: Ahahhahhaha! Told ya!
Strenj: That is simply putrid! Oh… guards, guards, come in at once. This man needs to be changed!
Joker: OOHOOHOOHOO!
Strenj: We will continue this… gk… at another time…
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Batman Task Force
Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 14, 1940
Submitting for your approval, the selected members of the Batman Task Force Team, to be directed under the guidance and direction of Captain James Gordon.
Under the advisement of Acting Commissioner Peter Grogan, Sergeant Maxwell Cort, will act as my number two, heading up training ops and the like. I have reservations about his ability to take orders, as he has questioned my directions on multiple occasions. However, he has proven to be a respected mentor to the recruits, and seems more determined than most to find and apprehend the Batman.
My partner, Stanley Merkel, has agreed to handle a majority of the required paperwork, minus my operation summaries, and will act in my place when I am unable to be present. Which, I’m told, will be never.
Detective Harvey Bullock will work under Cort and act as his back-up. If I’m being totally honest, I don’t love his attitude, but he’s shown himself to be capable, and he’s determined as all hell to get the job done. I’ve been warned about his poor hygienic habits, which apparently has been an ongoing issue since he joined the force. I’ll have a conversation with him about at least going on some sort of diet.
As for the rest of the team, Cort will be running a list by me shortly for approval. He has told me he has “big ideas”, whatever that means. My job will be to keep everyone focused and on-task.
From the audio logs of Dr. Hugo Strenj
Strenj: This is Doctor Hugo Strenj of Arkham Asylum, audiolog number seventy-three. July the fourteenth, nineteen forty.
I once again find I am at a crossroads. My meetings with the Joker have proven… mm… difficult, to say the least. He is more concerned with turning a phrase than with divulging information. Here I had thought Crane was uncooperative, but the Joker has been even worse.
Oh, but in my overzealousness and frustration, I unfortunately burned quite the bridge with dear Jonathan, for which there may be no mending. And I had finally come to a place where we had reached an understanding of sorts. How could I have been so shortsighted? Which patient am I to dedicate a majority of my resources towards in this quest for knowledge?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I am running out of time… have I been forgotten about? Why did I ever think it a fortuitous opportunity to travel so far? I must find him… I simply must! For if I cannot… and soon… I will have failed in my life’s ambitions. A failure for which there is no coming back from, I am sure of it.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
The following night, I met with Gordon for what was promised to be the last time. Perhaps ever, as he’d made it seem that this new task force would either succeed with my capture or fail and result in his untimely termination from the GCPD. However, the meeting itself did not begin in its usual fashion, for upon my arrival, I heard a dialogue convening atop the roof as I edged closer to the meeting place.
“---don’t like you --- like me --- out of the way,” I could vaguely pick out the words from a voice that did not belong to Gordon.
“You’re right, Cort. I don’t like you, and I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. Of anything! I am your superior officer, and when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. You and your buddies can go crying to Grogan all ya want, but the reality is that that’s EXACTLY how I ended up leading this pointless little bat squad in the first place, so maybe you should think about that the next time you decide to go whining to daddy.” This was definitely Gordon’s voice. And his demeanor.
“You pompous son of a bitch! I came to you with legitimately genius ideas and you poo-pooed them without even a second’s thought. You KNOW these are good ideas, Gordon, you just don’t want us to find the asshole. You’re interfering in your own investigation! And you’re damned right I’m going to Grogan about it again! He knows how to listen to reason.”
“I’m not hiring some whack-a-doodle pseudo-science consultant to conduct real detective work. And we’re not bringing in Branden’s old team either, this is not an army test operation. There’s such a thing as thinking too big, Max, and we’ve already blown this whole thing out of proportion with the amount of police resources we’re dedicating towards capturing one man, who, as far as I’m concerned, hasn’t done enough to warrant that kind of attention.”
“He attacked one of our fellow officers!” the indignant cop roared.
“He was tracking the Joker!”
“Harvey Dent caught the Joker, not batman!”
“That’s only what’s on the official record, and you know it!”
“Well, unofficially, you can go fuck yourself, Jimbo,” I heard footsteps following this statement and popped my head over the ledge to peer across the rooftop.
“What is this whole operation if not a giant wank-fest anyway?’ Jim groaned out into the vastness of the empty night streets (somewhat louder than he likely had meant to).
“Problems?” I asked, moving cautiously closer to the man.
He turned to face me, somewhat startled, “How long have you been eavesdropping?”
“Not long.”
“Gah,” he leaned back against the ledge and sighed a deep, stressed breath of air in my direction. “You see why we can’t afford to keep meeting? Nowhere is safe for me now that this thing is going down. Everyone suddenly knows how to be a detective all of a sudden, now that it comes to tracking you down.”
“It’s nice to feel wanted.”
He almost jumped then, looking me deep in my eyes as if I’d shaken him to the very core. “You know how to joke?”
“Maybe the madman rubbed off on me a little,” I looked down and scanned his ensemble. “You have what I asked for?”
“Against all better judgment, yeah,” he reached into his coat and pulled out a file folder, handing it to me. “I don’t care how you do it, I want this back to me as quick as you possibly can. And don’t get caught or it’s my ass.”
“I can do that,” I assured him. He did not appear alleviated by this oath, however.
“And I mean it, this is the last time we can meet. There’s nowhere I can escape these people, and our meetings have been risky enough as it is.”
“Pleasure working with you,” I turned to leave.
“Yeah? Well, SAME TO YOU!” He yelled angrily, causing me to question whether or not he’d properly heard my words of farewell.
From the audio logs of Dr. Hugo Strenj
Strenj: This is Doctor Hugo Strenj of Arkham Asylum. July the fourteenth, nineteen forty.
The most wonderful thing has occurred! I have with me here a member of the GCPD, Officer Maxwell Cort.
Cort: Hey uh… I dunno if we should be recording this. I’m kind of disobeying a direct order by being here.
Strenj: Not to worry, Sergeant. This is strictly for my own private records, I assure you.
Cort: If you say so.
Strenj: Now, you were wanting to talk to me about a special task force aimed at apprehending the Batman?
Cort: Sorta. It’s being headed up by this moron, Jim Gordon. Bunch of us guys think he’s been in leagues with the vigilante since the beginning. This whole case is bound to go nowhere under him. I had an idea about hiring you as a consultant, after that interview you did on the radio? Like all my good ideas, he shot it down without a second’s thought.
Strenj: I see… and so you are hoping to forge a partnership with me, unbeknownst to your superior on the team?
Cort: Couldn’t hurt, could it? I mean, I really wanna bring this asshole in. If you have some insight into how we might trap someone like that… I think it’s worth it.
Strenj: Right you are, I completely agree. The Batman must be caught. And while I am entirely sympathetic to your plight, Sergeant, I do have one condition before I make any commitments.
Cort: What’s that?
Strenj: If I help you catch the vigilante, I want one night alone with him for my personal studies. One night, and then you can take him in.
Cort: Look, that’s sorta pushin’ it a bit. We catch the guy, I’m required by law to take him in.
Strenj: And you would, don’t you see? All I need is one night. Surely, that isn’t too much to ask. After all, if he’s found to be mentally sane by the courts, I’ll never have my chance to pick his brain.
Cort: Pff, fat chance of that.
Strenj: Unfortunately, you’re wrong there, Maxwell. Sure, a bat uniform is an obvious defensive claim, and his lawyers would milk it for all its worth. But you must have considered that this man has played an insurmountable role in taking down not just Jonathan Crane, but the Joker and his cronies as well. That level of intelligence and know-how will surely convince any judge that he is, in fact, sound of mind.
Cort: Well, maybe… but ya know, Joker and Crane are smart guys too.
Strenj: Yes, but trust me, sit in a room with them for a few short moments and their lunacy is unmistakable. Please, Sergeant Cort. Allow me this one thing, and I guarantee you we will apprehend our man.
Cort: Hmm. Guess I don’t have much choice, ya put it like that.
Strenj: Stupendous! When next we meet, I will have a full scale plan drawn up for you.
Cort: Really? Just like that?
Strenj: Indubitably. In fact, I’ve had ideas for a long time now… but look at me. I am not a brawny man, and this plan requires one of your mass and physique to pull off successfully. With my brains and your physical formidability, I do believe we have the makings of greatness!
Cort: Heh… I’ll take your word for it. Be seeing ya.
(Door opens, door shuts)
Strenj: Adios, my good fellow. Hahhhh! This is my chance. This is the type of partner I’ve been hoping for all along. Together we can take the Batman down for good, and I… well, obviously I won’t be sticking to our bargain. While I take no pride in deceiving poor Maxwell, it is a necessary step in serving the greater good. Until next time, signing off!
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
The next few days came and went in a blur of activity. For one thing, I was able to add to my personal database of criminals living in Arkham. I sorted them by my own unique coding structure, which I created according to types of mental illnesses they allegedly suffered from, the types of crimes they were involved in, and the severity of those crimes as well as the risk to the public as a result. It was a small library, but I was happy with it as a starting point. I do not quite remember the means by which I had gone about returning the documents during that time, but I am certain I did.
Lucius had been kind enough to fix my new suit up for me in the time since I had my run-in with the Joker. While no significant upgrades had been made to the strengthening of the material itself, he did add a new feature to the forearms. Two jutting spikes on either arm, both for the purposes of blocking against sharper weapons, and as well in case I felt the need to stab someone. This, I knew, due to my recent outburst of uncontrollable rage, was a risky addition. However, I would have to trust in myself that eventually I would manage to keep my rage under control. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
It was July the 15th that I had gone to see Lucius, and he was beaming, such as I’d never seen before.
“Today is the day, isn’t it?” I smiled in anticipation.
“Indeed, it is,” he confirmed. “You know, I’ve had a hell of a time keeping any and all personnel out of the R&D testing facility all these months, so I hope you’ll have space for it at your place. Lest anyone becomes even more suspicious of my activities.”
“I’ve been hard at work making room for it in my… headquarters, as it were.” I still felt awkward calling it the batcave, as it sounded rather silly to my ears. Nor was I completely comfortable saying the word “Batman” either.
“Good, let’s head down there and take a look.”
The Research and Development facility was only a block away from Wayne Tower. It consisted of a technology research library, a lab not unlike the one Lucius worked from at the main office, and numerous spaces for the development of various prototypes. Usually for the army. Mister Fox had taken hold of the largest room over the past few months, as only he could do as head of the R&D department. When we had arrived outside the garage (as he referred to it), he looked about warily to ensure that no one had been close enough to peep inside. Then he opened the door and shooed me in hastily.
“Magnificent!” I gazed upon a vehicle unlike any I’d ever witnessed in my life. Half a car, and half a tank, it was an imposing and impressive sight to behold. “Was this…?”
“The Porsche, yes.”
To maintain appearances, I had accumulated quite a collection of rare vehicles over the past year. Alfred, being the car maniac that he was, made sure to maintain what came in and out of our garage at the manor, purchasing only the latest and most highly technologically enhanced rides available. One such piece was known as the Porsche 1939 Type 64, a peculiarly round looking thing that one might expect to see driving around on an alien planet. It was long in appearance, with coverings that overlaid the view of the tires, and its back-end rounded into a stubby tail of sorts. The driver’s seat was fully protected by an oval roof, and it gave off an illusion as if the plating was armor. It was no wonder, then, that Lucius had chosen to refurbish this particular model into my new protective ride.
“Alfred may kill you for this,” I warned.
“Only four made in the world, I know. However, I had my reasons. For one thing, as far as anyone seems to believe, there were only 3 of these made before plans to make more fell off the wayside. This was even more of a prototype than the other 3, and wasn’t exactly completely finished when it made its way to us. Alfred is sneaky that way.”
“He’s also very protective of that garage, so I am happy you managed to pluck it from there without him being alerted.”
“Well, I suppose I can be sneaky too. Not that you didn’t help by giving me the key.”
“Indeed,” I reflected, knowing that I’d played a large part in these deceitful plans. “So if anyone were to recognize the thing, they’d think it merely coincidence that they look alike?”
“Right you are, we don’t want anyone tracking it back to you. And it looks different enough from the other prototypes that I sincerely doubt anyone would make the comparison. Now, the other reason is that the design of the outer body was relatively easy to replicate with the armor plating. I used the same materials we’re using for the latest Wayne Enterprises armored vehicle prototypes in the other rooms.”
“Brilliant. But how does it manage -?”
“If you’ll let me finish,” he gave me a stern look, anticipating my next question. “There are additional wheels hidden in the center, four of them. Dual engine, the most powerful ones we have on hand. It’s not going to win any races, but it should keep up with the usual types you see on the streets of Gotham.”
I walked around my new prize, inspecting every crook and crevice, and marveling at its beauty. It was smooth, all black, and chic with its rounded edges.
“The top hatch pulls back to allow you access to the driver’s seat. All you have to do is use the key and it’ll pop open for you. It opens easily from the inside, but never from the outside without that key. The windows are reinforced with our own experimental safety glass, patent ever-pending, in case you’re curious.”
“A defensive champion, it would seem,” I laughed. “But how is it as an assault weapon?”
“Well, I’m not exactly one to try and rain death down upon the masses, and I suspect neither are you. Therefore, the weapons system was designed with safety in mind. The turrets have 3 select options: gas grenades, minor explosives, and flash bombs.”
“Lucius, you are a mind reader of the utmost caliber!”
“Thank you, mister Wayne. As well,” he climbed atop the vehicle and turned the key to open the hatch. Entering the mobile, he pressed a button and the two front corners flipped upward to a standing position, appearing as legs on the front of the vehicle, as the feet dug crudely into the ground. “I thought perhaps this might come in handy, if ever you were faced with something too heavy to move.” He pressed another button and the legs slowly began to rise vertically, acting as a sort of crane.
“Impressive!”
“We can make improvements and additions as needed, but I felt this was a good start. Anything more you can think of for right now?”
In my excitement, I could scarcely think at all. I shook my head, smiling dumbly as I did so.
“And the last thing,” He reached down to the seat and pulled out something that appeared like a cloak.
“Erm.. uh, what is that?”
“Your glider, as it were.”
“My… that thing?”
“Why, yes. Ever heard of a wingsuit, Mister Wayne?”