The Cop and the Bat

Anne and Jim began to hatch a plan to serve warrants on the mob banks. They got Harvey Dent involved in order to get their court orders, but didn’t tell him exactly what they were after. Old habits died hard, and with Anne and Jim being dyed-in-the-wool cops, they didn’t trust Dent.

Anne drew up a list of detectives and beat officers whom she felt were trustworthy to go on the raid: giving the list to Jim, she allowed him to strike off any individual he didn’t trust.

Over a week of preparations and long work days (Anne didn’t see Bats even once) led up to their raid date. None of the underlings were told where they were going or what they were doing: just to show up at 4pm roll call.

A few days after the Opera, Bruce Wayne had called Anne and set up another date. He wanted to take her out to see the rebuilding of Wayne Manor, and she had agreed… but then the raid came up without warning and she had to cancel out with Bruce on what should have been her day off.

She had just finished her conciliatory call to Bruce when Gordon joined her on the Municipal Building’s roof.

“How’d he take it?” Jim asked.

Anne released a mouthful of smoke. “Pretty well… he was disappointed, but he understood. I told him I couldn’t get out of work”

Gordon nodded in understanding. “Barbara hates that excuse… Can’t say I like it myself”

“Well, you come up with a better one, you let me know, Gord”

Taking a seat beside her on the vent, he stole a drag from her. “I have to admit, Anne, I’m scared about this one”

“We’re hitting them at closing: they won’t be expecting it”

Gordon sighed. “We’re short, though… one high-up and four officers per bank. It could get nasty”

“C’mon, Gord, we’ll be okay” Anne soothed.

Jim gazed longingly at Batman’s signal. “I wish it was dark enough to turn it on… we could use him”

“He’s never far away, Gord… don’t worry”

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Bruce sat before his computer, watching the beep of Anne’s transmitter intently.

“I see you have your suit out, sir” Alfred stated, walking up to him from behind. “I thought you had a date with Miss O’Malley”

Bruce answered without taking his eyes from the screen, lifting his right hand up and scratching his chin. “She cancelled, said she had to work. I think it’s going down tonight, Alfred”

“And I suppose that you’re going to keep tabs on her to see where she goes?”

“They’re going to need Batman”

“You mean she’s going to. I think she just might surprise you, sir”

Bruce sighed, noticing that Anne had gone down from the roof to her office. “Gordon will take the two most dangerous banks to serve, put her on one and himself on the other. If there are any moles in her office, like she said, they won’t dare to pull anything with the Commissioner there, but Anne is another story. You know as well as I do that some of the cops don’t think that she earned her promotion”

Alfred chuckled to himself. “And just what will they think, sir, when Batman shows up to aid her?”

Bruce smiled as he thought about Anne: she was tough, a good cop. “It’s not about that, Alfred. I know that she can handle herself in usual situations. I just have a hunch that this won’t be cut and dry”

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Anne sat in the back of a paddy wagon along with three police officers: her fourth assistant was at the wheel. Jim had given her the Third National bank on Gotham Avenue. There would be plenty of civilians to avoid as the cities people made their way home by walking past the bank: it was good cover, though. Their approach would be camouflaged.

Although the endeavor of Anne and her officers seemed simple enough, the three enlisted men who sat in the back of the wagon with her looked nervous. This was a mob bank, after all… The plan was to get inside of the building as it was growing dark, isolate the tellers and any “executives”, serve the warrant and confiscate the illegal money. The idea was simple enough, but neither Anne nor her officers were so naïve as to think that there wouldn’t be guns to deal with inside of the bank. The officers wore full riot gear for protection: Jim had ordered Anne to do the same and she did, minus the helmet.

Pulling up in front of the bank, they all did last minute weapon checks and then they burst from the back of the wagon and ran to the bank’s front door…

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Anne was pinned down behind a marble counter, gasping and trying to think of a way out. The mobsters must have known that they were coming: two of her men had gone down the moment that the group had entered the bank. The other two officers had managed to get behind desks on the floor when Anne had dove over the counter top: Anne could hear the periodic exchange of bullets between her men and the mob hoods. There were a few bystanders still inside of the bank, and one of the mob hoods had taken hold of a pregnant woman and was using her as a hostage. Anne had been able, upon initially getting behind the counter, to radio out a request for back up, but she wasn’t sure that anyone had heard it. All that she had gotten back in return was static…

A few more shots rang out and she heard her men cry out as they were hit by bullets… There was nothing left, no one to help her…

“Hey! Head cop!” one of the mob hoods yelled, holding a gun to the pregnant woman’s head. “I know you’re still here, bitch! Come on out, goddamn it, or this bitch is dead! I’m counting to three! One… two…”

Anne had no choice. She stood up from behind the counter, facing the two mob hoods and the hostage as she raised her empty hands to show that she had dropped her gun.

“Well, well” the hood stated. He was taller than the other man who held an automatic gun. “You’re Gordon’s wunderkind, aren’t you?” The man whistled lasciviously. “You’re O’Malley, right?”

She nodded slowly, trying to maintain her composure and behave like an officer. “Yes, I am. Now let the hostage go”

The two hoods laughed. “What? Oh, fuck you, bitch!”

Anne thought quickly: she had to save the woman. “I’ll take her place… I’ll be a better hostage”

“That might be so” the hood stated, his eyes glinting as he regarded her, “but that’s not why I called you out here. See, there’s a new boss in town, someone who wants to meet you”

Anne heard a door open behind the small set of desks that the hoods stood in front of. A man stepped out from it, giggling to himself as he approached. Oh, dear god, it couldn’t be… but it was.

Wearing a purple suit, sickly green hair falling down into his face, the man moved closer to her. He wore face paint, white, with the exception of black around his eyes and bright red upon his lips: the ruby color extended across his cheeks, covering scars. The make-up gave him the effect that he wanted: he looked like some sort of terrifying, malformed doll.

“Well!” the Joker cried, smiling at her from across the room, “You certainly are a pretty thing… So nice to see you up close. The television doesn’t do you… justice…”

Even with her hands still up, even with this monster coming closer and closer, even as her fear grew the cop in her spoke up. “The Joker, right?”

“Correctamundo, Lieutenant” he replied, his tongue darting out over his lips. “Commissioner Gordon just loves you, doesn’t he?”

Anne ignored the way that her stomach reacted with revulsion to the man before her. “Let the hostage go and I’ll take her place” she tried.

“Oh, oh… how very considerate of you” the Joker deadpanned, “but what I’m going for here is a BIG message to Gordon… and that message is that I’m taking over. That means if any of you pigs move on the ‘mob’…” The Joker paused, laughing. “You’re moving on me because I’m two steps away from owning them all” The Joker stepped closer until he was right in front of her and extracted a switchblade from his pocket. “Know how I’m going to give him that message, sweetheart?”

Anne didn’t move, didn’t answer. Her head was spinning so fast that she didn’t even try to raise her hands to defend herself.

The Joker raised the knife up to her face, pressing it against her cheek. “I’m going to cut you up into little pieces and leave him a nice note written in your blood” He laughed riotously at the fear on the Lieutenant’s face. “You might want to close your eyes for this, sweetheart”

She couldn’t believe that this was going to happen… No one was coming to save her, to help her. She was alone and this was it. The tip of the Joker’s blade pressed harder into her skin, preparing to draw blood…

When the Joker screamed in pain, Anne’s eyes flew open. Looking down, she saw that, embedded in the Joker’s wrist was a golden, bat-shaped throwing weapon. “Not now!” the Joker yelled in anger, stomping his foot.

Another throwing weapon hit the hood who was holding the pregnant woman hostage in the forehead: he dropped his gun and the woman ran away, crying hysterically.

It didn’t matter what the Joker wanted: Batman flew at him in a rage, knocking him to the ground.

Anne could only step back and watch in a combination of awe and surprise as her lover thumped on the man who had been threatening her only moments before.

They fought for a while, punching and kicking at one another. Anne was dumbstruck, as was the other hood who held the automatic gun. The taller man had collapsed to the ground and was crying as he mumbled about the golden bat that stood out of his forehead.

“Do I take it out or leave it in… what do I do? Joker? Joker?”

Coming back from a fierce punch from Batman, the Joker snarled and looked at his remaining man. “Shoot them, you idiot! SHOOT THEM!!”

Somehow, the shorter man was able to shake himself from his reverie. He raised his gun upward and pulled the trigger…

The shots that hit Batman did nothing, his suit easily absorbed them: but when the gunman turned on Anne, the bullets hit her in the lower torso, and even with the flak vest that she wore, she was thrown back. Burning pain radiated through her body and she cried out, crumpling to the floor and hitting her head on the smooth marble.

“Anne!” Batman yelled, kneeling at her side. The Joker and the hood were getting away, but he didn’t care. Lifting Anne’s head with his right hand, he saw her eyes go up into the back of her head. “Are you hit?” he asked, his voice grave.

Anne couldn’t answer him: the wind was knocked out of her.

The Joker and his accomplice had escaped the building: no doubt they were heading for the many underground tunnels that criss-crossed Gotham below the streets. Batman didn’t care. Scooping Anne up into his arms, he fled from the bank. He had parked the rumbler in the alley beside the structure: he put Anne into it and then climbed into the driver seat.

He had to get her somewhere safe, somewhere that the Joker wouldn’t think to look for her at…

Bruce Wayne’s penthouse.