Serious Times Call for Serious Measures

My feet quickly stepped over the broken glass, my back against the wall as I occasionally checked behind me making sure no one was sneaking up. I paused a moment wiping the sweat from my hands then wrapping them back around my gun. I stood a moment catching my breath trying to calm myself. I was so close! Just the thought of him caused my finger to twitch on the trigger. The Joker. The man responsible for the rape and murder of his mother, Arien Smith.

Arien Smith, was one of the only victims of the famed criminal 'The Joker' to have survived her brutal kidnapping and rape. A fact the Joker would not let stand. In the spring of 2018, shortly before I turned 9, a big celebration went up in Gotham. Apparently, everyone believed the Joker had been killed, by one of his own crew. How wrong we were. Because of this my mother and I returned home to Gotham. On May 12, 2018, my mother went to the store, and didn't come back. The Joker was not only alive and well, but he now had found my mother. The police search went on for months. They could never find any trace to her. Then on September 8, the police got a lead to an old warehouse by the docks. There they found they found my mother. Her body had been left there to rot. At the time I knew nothing and until I would gain access to the files I would never truly understand just how much my mother suffered. She had 23 stab wounds, 14 of those done with an identical knife, the rest…who knows. She had 2 broken ribs and a fractured sternum, which would eventually puncture her heart and kill her. But before she died she would have gone through more than a few 2nd and 3rd degree burns, being torn open, raped, and probably the worst part having both her hands amputated. On her body in between all the wounds we found evidence where a needle had punctured the skin, the coroner assumed for an I.V. to keep her alive.

Since I watched them lower my mothers body into that hole in the ground, I knew I would do what ever possible to make sure this never happened to anyone else. Despite my families wishes I dropped out of school, and snatched up my G.E.D. at 15. Taking a clue from my great great great grandfather, I forged a few documents and joined the Army. I would spend the next few years working under my assumed identity on my way towards a promotion to sergeant as an Army MP. I enjoyed the idea of being a cop, but in the Army the majority of my time was spent in front of the base and in the chow hall checking IDs. After 10 years, I was offered a spot in the Army CID. Despite the fact that Criminal Investigation was what I wanted, I didn't want to spend all of it in the Army overseas. So as my contract renewal came up, I declined both the CID and reenlisting and returned home to Gotham City. There using my new identity I earned myself a spot on the Gotham force working under Commissioner Gordon in a unit specially designed to handle Gotham's growing rate of strange criminals. Through this job I began to understand Gordon's great appreciation of "Batman", a masked vigilante who patrolled the night taking down villains. How I envied Batman. What I wouldn't give to know where he got the equipment he did. Sometimes I wondered if he wasn't just a member of the crime force himself, who had taken to a little extra duty on the side.

Three months ago I got a lead to the whereabouts of Gotham's most wanted criminal, the Joker. I pursued the lead so ferociously I was threatened with suspension. From then on all work on the Joker I did was from home, where I wouldn't be eyed by my colleges. It took me a few months to track down some of his goons and gather the information I needed. It was hard, and eventually it took a noticeable toll on me. My appearance became haggard, unkempt, and gaunt. It wasn't long before my partner called me out. After a sharp reprimand from the chief, I toned back my search, letting go the part of me that had been threatening to be my undoing…that was until two days ago. John and I were pulling a double shift, we stopped into a gas station grabbing some coffee and candy anything with caffeine. We knew it was going to be a long night. Around 3 am, John was fiddling with the new Darth Vader voice on his Tom Tom when a call went out over the radio; 44 and 34s. Aggravated kidnapping and shooting. We made our way to the destination, as we pulled up another car was already there with a bus. We pulled up, climbing from the car towards the other sets of flashing lights. John got there first and started drilling the officer. The man said a couple had been walking home. A van had pulled up behind him and three men got out of the car. The next thing he knew they were coming at them. He and his wife had tried to run, but one of the men caught up to them. He hit his wife and shot him point blank in the chest. He was lucky to be alive. He said that they grabbed his wife and drug her into the van. I walked to the back of the ambulance climbing into it and leaning over his chest as the paramedic was struggling to stop his bleeding.

'Can you describe anything about the men,' I had asked. 'Height, hair color, anything? What about the van?' I could tell the man was a fighter, not by any physical means, but something in his eyes told me he wasn't going under that easy. It was that kind of strength that makes your heart swell and your chest puff out. The one that just fed your pride.

'It was dark I couldn't really see, and we were running…' the man paused to cough, clenching his teeth in pain as he chest shook. 'The van…it looked like a work van. It was dark, maybe black, or a dark purple or blue. I couldn't tell.'

'And your attackers?' I leaned forward taking note of the sudden narrowing of his eyes.

'I don't remember much, not about their appearance…' I could see he was resisting the urge to cough again. His fingers clasped out grabbing my jacket and pulling me closer. 'but I remember something about one of them. I only got a glimpse of him, but he seemed to be in charge, and that voice…if you catch him I can identify that voice.'

'What about it?' I could feel the words hissing through clenched teeth. My mother had once expressed a great dislike of her rapists voice.

'It was strange, not just the way he sounded but the way he spoke. He paused a lot, and kept smacking his lips. After they shot me while they were…' his eyes welled up. My hand found his shoulder, clasping, encouraging him to continue. ' When they were dragging Helen away, I caught a glimpse of him as they were hopping into the van. He-he had..' He eyes rolled back slightly his head dipping like a man trying not to fall asleep. His hand came up to his face, his finger pointing from one cheek to the other in a swooping motion. A grin.

'Scars.' The word rushed past my lip before I could think them. He nodded slowly. His hand collapsed by his side, and the paramedic shoved me from the ambulance, pulling the back closed as the lights cut on and the vehicle sped off. I turned and looked towards John. He muttered something into his com about more units and a search team. We searched all morning checking traffic cams, ATMs, anything that had a camera that could possibly have caught that van. Nothing. The trail was dead. John and I were sent home to rest, and despite myself I couldn't argue. After all I was barely awake, and if i was going to find this woman and her kidnapper I knew I needed rest. I convinced myself a few hours of sleep, a hot shower and a meal on the way to the precinct and I'd find her in no time.

I was on my way home when I saw him, or more accurately it just the tail end of a coat but I would know that coat anywhere. The flash of velvety purple was more than I needed. I pulled my radio and called for back up. My chief told me to go home. That a flash of purple was not enough to go storming into buildings. That he would send a unit to check it out, for me not to worry. I should have taken his advice. I had parked my car a few blocks down running to where I saw the flash end of the coat turn the corner down the alley. I unholstered my gun treading carefully as I walked to the end peering around the corner. Empty. I walked to the end of the narrow passage way to a small rickety door. The room behind it was empty save for a few crates and folding chairs, but the smell was thick. Fish. That's when it hit me my mother had told of her kidnapping, but just that once. She told me of how she ran for her freedom, how she ran from the docks. Why hadn't I thought of it before? With this kind of a lead I couldn't possibly have thought of going home, I needed to find this woman, before what happened to my mother happened to her.

I had found my way to the docks radioing out before I went. Gun at hand I had stalked through the darkness towards an old warehouse. I had been instantly rewarded. His back to me walking in side, was none other than the Joker. His stringy green tinged hair fell down his back, his purple coat billowing in the hefty night breeze as he entered the building. In an instant I felt as awake and alert as ever. This was my moment, what my life had led up to. I don't even remember crossing the dock or entering the building my adrenaline was pumping so hard. Next thing I knew I had flown up two flights of stairs and down a narrow dark passage way.

Now here I was tip toeing across, avoiding glass, and praying that I could keep my hands dry enough to prevent slipping. I squinted my eyes peering into the darkness, to where I could see a tiny beam of light peeking out from a cracked door. I felt my breath catch in my throat, as a cackle bellowed down the hall. As I approached the door I slowed my pace, taking deep steady breaths and then peered in through the crack. The room was dark, but the little lamp in the corner was more than enough to see the man in the center of the room towering over his victim. She was bound, hands and feet, and sobbing at his feet. The knife in his hands made slight clicking sound as he tapped it against his leg, leering down at the girl. I lifted my gun, slowing pushing it through the door, aiming at the Joker. Putting my finger to the trigger I exhaled slowly.

"AUGH!" The cry escaped my lips of its own accord as my gun fell from my hand and to the ground. My body fell to the floor in racking tremors.

"Well, ah, what do we have here?" My vision went hazy, but I could see the clown turning to face me walking to my head.

"Saw him sneaking down the hall boss and zapped him." Damn. The Joker let out a menacing laugh before bending down and grabbing my hair, forcing my face towards his.

"Nighty night." He stood up quickly, and the last thing I saw was the bottom of his shoe coming towards my face.


Author's Notes:

So here it is! The sequel! Okay, so it's not that big of a deal. For those of you who read 'Time to be Serious', before I rewrote it, will kinda understand that I was getting to Colt. Originally, Time to be Serious was very jumpy, because I was trying to get to a point where I could better express Colt's view of everything. This probably won't be a long story, but as a warning there will be lots of rape and torture. Thanks to all those who read my story and kept me going, this story is for you!

So this story will take place 25 years from the time Arien Colt was born. So assuming the youngest the Joker was was in his 20's you are looking at the Joker being anywhere from early 40's to late 60's. I always imagine him around mid thirties so I would believe this Joker to be about mid 50's. Anyway, its a very sinister Joker much like the previous story so if you don't like Brian Azzarello's Joker I wouldn't advise reading this. (For a more Bruce Timm feel and Heath Ledger look I would try my other story 'Arkham Days')