"He's the one?" Batman asked as he stared at the man sitting in the interrogation room.
"He did come with Joker's mangled body in one hand and turned himself in." Gordon said as he wished he had a cigarette right now. "If he isn't then all of my officers buying him gifts will be very disappointed." He said as he glared at several officers around who all collectively flinched at his words.
"What, you people thought I wouldn't notice or something? That you lot were being subtle? Be grateful that none of you were dumb enough to get into crime rather than police force, none of you would have lasted more than a week on the streets!" He yelled at the officers who were no avoiding his gaze.
It was almost ironic, when he first joined Gotham Police Force; Gordon had to deal with loads of cops who were corrupt and shifty. Now, years later, he had managed to get rid of majority of them but was left with far too many who were just less than competent since those who were competent were using their skills and experiences to guard the corruption.
He was a victim, of his own success.
"Has he said anything yet?" Batman asked, though Gordon could swear that the hero was almost smiling.
"That it was a case of self defense. Normally what he did would be far too much to evade punishment with that but..."
"It's Joker." Batman nodded.
Honestly, there likely wasn't a single man or woman dumb enough to work in a case trying to convict a citizen who had crippled Joker and even if there was; the public would literally rip the police station off the ground rioting against the police if they tried to arrest him.
Batman was not happy about it. It might be hypocritical coming from a vigilante, and Batman was much aware of how much a hypocrite he could be, but he believed that law should be followed in any case and not arresting a criminal due to public opinion was an idea that was deeply against everything he believed in.
But on the other hand... it was Joker.
Not much point causing more chaos for the sake of the clown.
"Chief, we got the files." A young officer walked in with a clipboard and gave it to Gordon before immediately leaving while trying to ignore Batman as much as possible.
"David Aaron, no marks on his record; not even a speeding ticket. He owns..."
"A bar near the crime alley." Batman interrupted him. "Where several criminals with more self control frequent."
"...any reason you haven't told me that before?"
"They caused less damage while drinking and as I've said, only the more reasonable ones. He even gave Waylon a job after he got out." The Dark Knight defended his actions.
"Well, guess we now know what he does to the unreasonable ones." Gordon said with a dark chuckle. "Honestly, we have nothing to hold him. As far as anyone is concerned, we are simply questioning him in the precinct since he came to report a crime. At best we can claim that we were trying to affirm if he's a meta or not." More than likely considering the state Joker had been brought in. "You gonna talk to him?"
Was it unprofessional of Gordon to let Batman, a vigilante, talk to someone they had been questioning with little to no care for protocol? Undoubtedly. But the Dark Knight was afforded some liberties and creative understanding of the rules after everything he had done for Gotham and the innocents living in it.
It wasn't like Gordon had to worry about him doing something stupid. At worst he might try to scare the guy into giving him information and even that was a stretch and more likely a case of Batman himself not realizing how scary he could be to ordinary people. Not that Gordon would ever say it to the man's face.
"Yes. If only to warn him about the danger he is in after what he did."
-----------------
Bored. Bored. Bored.
To think that I could actually be bored so soon after my... talk with Joker.
That was likely going to cause some problems soon and they would not stop coming for a long time. My anonymity was as good as gone. You couldn't just cripple the Clown Prince of Crime in Gotham and expect to remain a humble bar owner. It was already a stretch with all the high end criminals like Bane and Freeze that I allowed to drink in my bar and had reached the limit when I gave Waylon a proper job but this was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Not that I regretted it.
Leaving aside my own loathing of Joker and the other lunatics like Pyg and Zsasz, I couldn't let someone like them just walk in and have their fun in my bar. It would basically be declaring that they were free to do so. But dealing with them had also ended my days of anonymity.
It had been a lose lose situation the moment that dumb clown walked in.
Perhaps that was the reason I had enjoyed... dismantling the clown as much as I had. It certainly was better than my other theory that the differences between the original Sabbac and my own situation meant I was more... susceptible to the demonic nature of my powers.
My soul was technically covered in essences of six very powerful demons, each strong enough to be known as 'lords' in a place of eternal suffering and conflict like Hell. And considering how demons, as creatures whose souls were made out of hell's magical energies, were literally incapable of little unimportant things like empathy and joy without some form of suffering of others could mean that my situation was not as safe as I had been acting like it was.
That was only a theory though, it was quite possible that taking delight in the suffering of a, admittedly very evil, man was all me and nothing about demonic influences.
Though any further thoughts about the subject would have to wait.
"Hello, mister Batman."
--------------
As Joker writhed in his newest cell, all he could think of in the midst of unending agony and the phantom pain in where his jaw was meant to be, was how he would have that bartender suffer tenfold in return for what he had done to him!
The way the man's hand had clamped on his face and raised him up like he had weighted nothing before apologizing to the customers for letting strays in and carry him out of the bar was the least of what he had suffered.
The maniac brute somehow had immunity to his gas, his way of spreading smiles and laughter to the rest of the world, and when he tried to use it; the bastard clenched the hand holding him up and dislocated his jaw.
After that, he slowly took his arm into his hands and squeezed.
He could still hear the wet crack echo in his ears.
Then the maniac did the same for his other arm and then to his legs. Taking his time slowly reaching for each limb and slowly crushing them under his grip.
It was only after he had done all that the bastard gripped his dislocated jaw and whispered to his ear.
"It wasn't funny back then Jack, it's not funny now."
And then he pulled his jaw off his face and dragged him to the police station.
He could feel it, the emptiness from no longer being able to smile. And the undying rage at the bastard who thought that he could somehow mess with his jokes.
Forget Batsie, he would drive that bartender to madness even if it was the last thing he did!
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