He didn't know what he'd do if he lost a second Robin.

  It was on all the time.

  Not that he knew what time was anymore. Time blurred. He slept. He woke up. He felt needles in his arm. Someone pushed food between his lips. The video screen was always there, blaring brightly beyond his cell. And a man said the same three words to him over and over again:

  "You are Batman."

  He opened his eyes. Batman's image swung across the video screen. The Joker stood on the ground and laughed.

  Batman hit The Joker.

  Yeah, he could relate to that. Winter so much wanted to hit---

  Winter?

  Who was Winter?

  Winter was dead.

  He was Batman.

  17

  Commissioner Gordon picked up the phone.

  "MacPhee here," the voice of his old friend announced from the other end of the line.

  "Graham," Gordon replied to the head of the building and fire codes division of the city government. "How did the surprise inspection go?"

  "It didn't, I'm afraid, Jim," MacPhee admitted. "Those bastards at the Church of Perpetual Happiness won't let me in the door without a search warrant."

  "Even though you're a city official?" Gordon asked incredulously.

  "The only official they recognize is the Reverend Droll," MacPhee stated in an angry singsong that emphasized his Scottish burr. "They are some of the most arrogant sons of bitches I've met in twenty-odd years of building inspection."

  "So, what now?" Gordon asked. "Can you get a judicial order?"

  "Not this late in the day. I'll do the paperwork right away, Jim, but you know as well as I do it's hard to rush this sort of civil thing. With luck, we should get the paperwork approved to get in there, say, first thing Monday morning."

  Damn, Gordon thought. He tried not to let the disappointment show too much in his voice. "I see. Well, I'll see what I can do on this end. Thanks, Graham."

  Gordon hung up the phone. He could see MacPhee's problem. It would even be tough for a police commissioner to get a judge to believe that---what? The future of Gotham City was being threatened by a borderline church with a couple hundred members?

  Now, if they could somehow come up with something that could tie Winter's disappearance, or The Joker, in with the interior of the church building. He'd have to come up with something.

  In the meantime, though, what could he tell Batman?

  Sometimes working for somebody else could be a real pain.

  Samson had been so disappointed they weren't going to do Gordon. He so wanted to see the expression on that police commissioner's face when he realized he was just another piece of meat that Samson was going to deliver to The Joker for improvement. Yeah, improvement.

  "Gordon!" Samson would say. "Remember when you sent me up? Well, I'm back, but you're never coming back. Never!"

  But he had to do this Bruce Wayne first. Who was this guy---some sort of sop millionaire? Why did The Joker even bother to pay somebody with Samson's skills to take an easy mark like that?

  Samson could always use the money, and this job would be so little sweat that he'd be primed when they did Gordon next. The Joker always had such complete plans for the places Samson was to do his jobs, he knew right where he would snatch him, in the narrow corridor between the fish freezers and the loading dock. Samson did appreciate someone who was prepared.

  One more day and this Bruce Wayne would be out of the way, and The Joker could do whatever he wanted with him.

  And then Samson got to do Gordon.

  Dr. Andrews turned on the lights.

  "And what progress are we making, my good doctor?"

  The Joker leered up from the chair on the far side of the room. He had been sitting here, alone in the dark. Andrews had promised himself he would not be startled by The Joker's actions. So far, unfortunately, the doctor had not been able to make good on this promise.

  "Good, good," Dr. Andrews replied, not really meaning it. If he were being honest, which he seldom was, Dr. Andrews might have said he was doing the best with what he had available.

  Working for The Joker did have its disadvantages. Although his employer did seem to have an almost inexhaustible supply of funds, these cramped working conditions still left something to be desired. And, in some cases, the raw materials were so---lacking. Andrews could do nothing but shake his head.

  It certainly used to be so much easier when he could work for someone with more stability, especially those dictators and terrorist organizations that operated right out in the open. These political changes of late had made life a bit tedious. Places the doctor had been welcome for years suddenly found him a potential embarrassment. New governments were examining mental hospital records, even prison interrogation techniques! Strong, centralized, no-nonsense dictatorial systems were beginning to break down. Nations all over the globe were actually starting to cooperate. What was going to happen to the world?

  Dr. Andrews had decided he shouldn't remain in the political arena long enough to find out. Fortunately, The Joker had been doing a bit of work with some of the doctor's better customers in Iran about that time. And with a minimum of fuss, the new Dr. Andrews had a new country, a new career, and, most important of all, a place to continue his experiments without the meddling of so-called authorities.

  "Shall we go see our specimens?" The Joker said.

  Of course, Andrews had to agree. He refolded the charts he had carried into the room and put them back in the "Current Projects" cabinet, then followed The Joker on their regular afternoon rounds.

  One by one, they checked up on all five of their current residents, each one kept in his own soundproofed cell so that none knew that any of the others existed---indeed, so they only knew that three people existed in the world---the doctor, The Joker, and themselves. Mind control was so much more effective when you controlled the universe of the subject.

  "Cell One," The Joker announced as he flipped the switch to remove the shatterproof glass shield that covered the bars.

  "And how is our Batman today?"

  This time, Subject One didn't answer at all. He sat on a corner of his cot, staring at the wall.

  "Hey, batboy!" The Joker crooned. "It's your old friend. Can't you take a joke?"

  There was no response.

  "This is going to take some personal attention." The Joker pressed a second button. The cell door swung open. The Joker strolled jauntily across the room to the figure in the cowl and cape.

  "Hey!" He grabbed the man in grey and turned him to face him. "It's The Joker! Nyah, nyah, nyah! Remember me?"

  The Batman stared past The Joker as if he didn't even see the other man.

  "The Joker!" Andrews's employer insisted. "You know, the guy who killed your little Robin? Come on, how about a nice hello?"

  Batman twisted his head away to look back at the same spot on the wall.

  "He has been in here too long," the doctor fretted. "We cannot have them here for weeks on end. They need to have some outside stimulation for the programming to take hold."

  "Actually," The Joker admitted, "there's something in me that likes my Batman this way. But I see what you mean. This guy would be no fun at all at parties." He turned and strolled out of the cell to rejoin the doctor. "Shall we proceed?"

  The doctor grunted and they walked across the corridor to Subject Three. The Joker pressed the button to remove the glass.

  "Scum!" Batman screamed. He ran forward, smashing his fists against the bars. "I'll kill both of you! I'll smash you! I'll cut you into little pieces and eat them raw! I'll---"

  The Joker closed the glass. "No problem here."

  The doctor wasn't so sure. Each of the batmen seemed to be unraveling in his own way. These were the early experiments, before Andrews had had a chance to fine-tune his programs, before he had determined what it really meant to be someone like Batman. He had, of course, fed them all the supplementary tapes as he had developed them, but their character foundations were not quite as strong as his more recent projects. The doctor had considered stripping away their rebuilt personalities and starting over again---that, in itself, could be a fascinating experiment---but The Joker kept him busy with so much fresh material, any such personality revision would have to wait.

  "Number Four," The Joker announced as they reached the next cell, the one that contained the subject that worried the doctor the most. The Joker rolled away the glass.

  "Keep away!" the man inside screamed. "I'm Batman!"

  "Not much change here either, I see," The Joker mused. "Perhaps if I added some sensory input." He pressed the second button, and the cell door opened.

  "Keep away!" the man inside called, softer than before. His tone was more pleading than belligerent. "Keep away. You know who I am."

  The Joker stepped inside the cell. "And you know who I am."

  "Yeah," the man in the Batman costume replied. "I know, I know. And I want you to go."

  The Joker stopped midstride, looking even more delighted than usual. "Wait a second! Did I detect a rhyme?"

  The other man nodded. "Have no fear. Batman's here."

  "What a wonderful development!" The Joker cheered. He abruptly made an about-face and marched out of the cell. "This is one line of thought we definitely want to encourage." He closed the cell door behind him and patted the doctor on the shoulder. "You know, this is a Batman we definitely could take to parties!"

  The doctor wished he could be as sure of all this as his employer. "Their egos are too unstable. They need some outside reinforcement. They need some action."

  "Hey, Doc, we all need some action. Grown men, and we spend all our time in a cell block!" He shook his head. "Maybe I should let them out all at once! A world full of bumbling batmen!" The Joker roared.

  Sometimes, Dr. Andrews wondered if his employer took all of this seriously. He would never know. There were some questions you simply didn't ask your superiors.

  The Joker stopped laughing as abruptly as he had begun. "Shall we visit our star pupils?"

  The doctor followed as The Joker danced down the corridor to Subject Six---their latest, finest Batman.

  "God damn it, Joker!" the sixth Batman raged as he pulled to the limits of his restraints. He looked quite good in the new costume, too. He had good muscle tone, and the "Batman" seamstresses were getting better.

  "You're laughing now," "Batman" shouted as he shook his fist, "but I'll get you soon enough!"

  "Perfect!" The Joker chuckled. "He even sounds like Batman---no sense of humor at all!" He patted Andrews on the back. "Doctor, you get better and better."

  "I do my best," Andrews replied humbly as he glanced at the chart outside the cell. "I believe it is time for another injection."

  The new "Batman"'s bravado was gone, replaced by a look of panic. "No, you can't! You can't do that to Batman!"

  "My dear fellow," The Joker replied. "We can do whatever we want to Batman, anytime we want to. Now, why not be a good Batman and show us that arm?"

  Batman listened to the dial tone for a moment before he hung up the phone. He didn't like the sound of this. This could be very bad for Dick.

  Gordon had called him and told him how they couldn't legally enter the headquarters of the Church of Perpetual Happiness. The commissioner had explained how the church members were within their legal rights, and how difficult it was to get a search warrant against a church.

  Batman thought again about the paper flowers and the deck of cards. It was one of the ways The Joker taunted him, by leaving these clues at the scene of a crime. The Joker always seemed driven to tip his hand to show his involvement, as if his caper wasn't complete without Batman's knowledge.

  According to the information Gordon had given Batman, this church was amassing great amounts of unreported, and untraceable, cash---far more than The Joker could gather in a dozen of his elaborate robberies. If The Joker really was running this church, all he had to do was keep quiet and he would be both rich and beyond the control of the law. He had no need to either stage those robberies, or to let anybody know he had anything to do with the church.

  But The Joker was not a sane man. Maybe he wanted to be caught. Maybe he wanted to challenge the Batman. Maybe his crimes were never complete unless the Batman was involved. That last reason would certainly explain why these men in Batman costumes had been found at crime scenes. If The Joker needed a Batman, now he could produce them at his convenience, and kill them off at his convenience as well.

  Crimes were sweeter for The Joker when Batman was involved. He had sworn that he could no longer treat the Joker as an obsession. That would result in the destruction of them both. But Batman found The Joker's latest scheme too personal. Dick was in that church, and for all Batman knew, The Joker was in there, too.

  And then Gordon had told him the police were unable to search the church. Sometimes lawbreakers could twist the law so it protected the guilty.

  But that was one of the reasons he had become Batman. Unlike Gordon, Batman did not always have to go rigidly observe written codes and legal niceties. He could take one step beyond the law, and confront evil at its darkest heart.

  Dick was out there, and he couldn't lose him, not like he'd lost Jason. No matter what problems Grayson and he had had these past days, even these past years, they were like family, closer than father and son, more like brothers, in the way they fought together, the way they understood each other.

  He'd lashed out against Dick for things he hadn't liked in himself. Dick was so close to him that he could make him feel---and he didn't dare feel, not after the way Jason had died. The realization hit him harder than any blow he'd ever taken from a fist.

  It also made him admit how much he had needed Dick around, how he had needed the conversation, the camaraderie, even the reflection of himself in a younger person. Any man, even a man who tried to be as strong as Batman, could not exist completely alone. It was this relationship, this feeling, he had tried, unsuccessfully, to reproduce when he had taken on another apprentice crime fighter, a new Robin.

  Jason.

  The Joker had shown himself again, and now Batman knew what he had to do. He would avenge Jason's death, and save Dick from The Joker's plans. The Joker needed to keep Batman close, to inform Batman of his plans. This time, Batman would use The Joker's needs to destroy his nearest foe.

  But Batman could not let his own emotion overcome him. There could be no way for The Joker to know he had the former Robin under his control. Dick was trained to protect himself. He might be held prisoner, but there was no reason to think he had come to any great harm.

  Batman's logic said all these things, but the emotions, that part of Batman that was almost always hidden, said something else.

  If there was no change by nightfall, Batman would open the church by himself.

  18

  Dick woke with a start.

  "There he is!" someone called.

  "I knew he'd wake up some time," another voice added.

  "Dick, you're going to make a great addition to the church!"

  Dick couldn't remember falling asleep. Actually, he couldn't remember much specific about most of this day. He and Sharon had come out here to the courtyard early in the morning, and had been joined a minute later by some more members of the church. People had started to talk, and Dick had done his best to listen. He had felt trapped for a moment, but had decided it was best not to panic. If he had to stick around here all day, he might as well learn what he could, and then see what he could find out about Reverend Droll this evening. After that, he'd see about leaving; peacefully, if possible.

  More people had joined them as the sun had risen above the courtyard. Everybody had been talking, and Dick had found himself talking, too. Some of these other church members made sense talking about relationships. Dick had been too uptight about the people around him---Batman, Kory, the Titans---he had to let these things go. The Church of Perpetual Happiness was good at helping you let things go.

  Somewhere in there, they ate again, fast food from some local takeout joint, not great, but better than breakfast. More than once in there, he'd fallen asleep, too, probably because of the late hour he'd been up to the night before.

  But when he was awake, everything around him was starting to make sense. Somehow, he knew the Joker would make him happy.

  He looked up and saw Sharon's smiling face. "I'm glad you woke up. You've been a little under the weather."

  Under the weather? Was that why he'd been sleeping so much?

  "But it's almost time!" she added. Her face, caught in the last glow of the sun as it slipped beneath the wall, seemed to shine with excitement.

  "Time?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry.

  "For Reverend Droll," she explained.

  It was Thursday night already? He must have slept longer than he had thought.

  "I envy you," one of the men said as he looked over Sharon's shoulder. Dick knew him. It was Larry, from the day before. "You will have the privelege of meeting Reverend Droll for the first time. Oh, Dick, I wish I could have that experience all over again! Your mind is as asleep in its way as if you were still napping in the sun. But when you meet Droll, he will wake you up!"

  "Yes!" the others yelled. "Yes! Wake up! Wake up!"

  "The Reverend Droll makes everybody feel better," Sharon agreed. "That's part of the power of the Joke."

  "Let's go wait for the reverend!" Larry called. Everyone stood up, and Dick was lifted up along with them. He found himself in the middle of a mass of moving bodies. When his feet hit the ground, he walked. When he was a little slow, he was carried, with the rest of them, as the whole congregation returned to the church. They all sang a simple song about how good it was to wake up. It was a very happy song.

  If Dick's throat hadn't been so dry, his voice so hoarse, he would have sung along.

  The Joker had to admit it: This was as much fun as one guy could have without killing people. To think, instead of destroying, he was creating---Batman after Batman! Each one was different, and every one was crazy in his own very individual way.

 

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