บท 64: Doppelganger
Gloomy Mouse couldn't help showing off, and instead of going down the fire escape, he simply stepped off the parapet and floated gently on his cloak. I decided to use more traditional methods, especially since I didn't have such a stylish and functional accessory that could turn into a glider or protect me from bullets, but I had something equally cool.
"Heh!" I stab the harpoon into the wall and jump down.
Sure, it didn't turn out as epic as Bats, and even without the superhero landing at the end, but it's still cool.
No, he was definitely mocking or bragging. The superhero, as if in public, made a few taps on the wristband with a built-in screen, and a second later, roaring with the engine, the Batmobile drove into the alley, although this thing should be more properly called a Battank. Predatory contours, powerful wide bulletproof wheels, armor plates that reliably protected the cabin even from RPG fire, a multi-gun taser on the hood against live targets.
Hmm, I used to say I didn't give a shit about a toy like this, but now something makes me want one.
The latex-clad man climbed in and nodded to the passenger seat.
The exterior of the Batmobile was undoubtedly impressive, but the stuffing was even cooler: holographic screens for easier navigation and duplication of controls, powerful engine, normal retractable cannons for eliminating heavy armored targets, judging by the flickering buttons that I wanted to press, artificial intelligence, of course, without self-awareness. We don't want Bats' machine to wipe out all of humanity, do we? Ha hah, although that would be fun.
The car, roaring with a three hundred and forty horsepower engine, sped northward.
"Whoa. Where are we going?
Now we're definitely not heading to Bristol, home of Bruce Wayne's house and, by extension, the batcave.
"As you asked, to the secret lair," I thought or I could hear a chuckle in his voice, "which is under the Panessa movie theater.
What a bug! And he didn't cheat, either.
"All right, tell me what you're going to show me - a secret lair is a secret lair, especially with Batman.
"You'll find out soon enough.
"What the hell kind of fucking cliffhanger is this?! You do know that by all the laws of the genre, some bullshit is bound to happen, right?
"By the laws of the genre? Jay, we're not in a comic book," my companion's voice was clearly ironic.
~Pip~
There was a sharp squeak from the speaker on the dashboard.
"You see! You see! I told you so!" I happily poke at the message that appears.
"These are the results of the epidermis analysis I took from under the victim's fingernails," he looked at me thoughtfully. - I've got your doppelganger," a few taps on the touchpad, and the screen split into two workspaces.
I saw an image of a sad, balding old man named Henry Adams, who had clearly decided to recall his youth by dyeing the rest of his hair green. Yeah... And this is my double? The man who gutted the doctor, unleashed the psychopaths, and set up a Highlander-style game? Honestly, I'm not impressed at all. At the same time, it's one less headache and now you don't have to fear a deadly gift under the car seat.
What about Bats? I'm looking at his half of the screen with a picture of a disheveled, sad kid.
"Wow, so it's that kid. Richard Grayson! Kid's got a real imagination for murder. So that John Doe is Zucco's boss?
"I doubt it... Computer, Richard Grayson's location.
After the query, the program displayed a brief note informing that the orphan was placed at the Blessed Virgin Mary Catholic Orphanage, but his whereabouts are unknown at this time as he ran away four hours ago and the police have been notified.
"The unknown "artist" was killed at least five days ago, besides, the analyzer built into the wristband has a small margin of error, so it could well be one of the guy's parents, they just had impressive agility and coordination... Anyway, more data is needed. It's too early to draw conclusions.
The interior of the transport plunged into silence.
Hell, I don't remember the Court of Owls, or the killer guy, or the fucking doppelganger, but it was a hundred percent my own fault. Hugo's brain must have gotten stuck. It makes sense: I told him not to bother me, but to help people, and this psycho said Gotham needed balance. But since I couldn't be touched, I could create my own Joker with blackjack and ahem... In short, the mad doctor had plenty of opportunities for that, as well as imagination.
Okay, even though Joker-number-two has been successfully neutralized, it's worth seeing what Bats has dug up on him.
So, he was born, graduated from high school, went to college, married a Judy Hopps, graduated with the highest grades in all disciplines, got a job as a teacher and, thanks to his outstanding intellect, quickly moved up the ladder, eventually becoming principal. And not in some backwater school for Latinos, but in McCallum Academy - the most prestigious school in Gotham! He worked for twenty-five years and lost his mind, stabbing his wife to death and eating her insides... Yeah, schoolchildren can do worse than that... After the fateful event, he was treated in Arkham for fifteen years under the supervision of Hugo Strange, then released and got a job in a private laboratory, where he worked until recently.
Strangely, his blood is similar to the one Harley and I got from the mansion, except that the content of various interesting substances is fifteen times lower.
I was distracted from reading as the Batmobile reached its destination, dropping speed for a moment at a metal fence next to an abandoned movie theater. A tap on the dashboard and the obstacle folded forward, allowing the vehicle to drive into the area. Driving around the building on the right side of the concrete slabs, Bats steered the vehicle into what appeared to be a monolithic wall, but as we approached, it pulled aside, revealing a disguised freight elevator that took us to a huge underground laboratory.
It's just fucking awesome...
The place we found ourselves in was really impressive and was obviously created by a man with a tendency to gigantomania. The ceilings were ten meters high, thick cables were laid under the grated floor, and in the center of the room were high-tech metal boxes-chambers with half-meter-diameter pipes leading to them from some huge machine, something resembling a steam engine because of the water vapor swirling around it.
"So this is my double?" I stopped at the first cubicle on the right side.
The man from the photo was sitting in the cell, quietly reading a thick book in a blue cover. Actually, I wouldn't call this thing a cell, but rather a small room. It had the minimum necessary for a comfortable life: a bed, a table with a stack of literature on it, a comfortable chair, a closet for things, and, apparently, a shower and a toilet, separated from the main room by an opaque partition.
"Almost. He got to Hugo later than everyone else and didn't have time to undergo the transformation into... ahem... the Joker. Even his hair color is back to normal after the blood transfusion. Henry is perfectly sane and helps with the investigation as much as he can.
"Wait... Later than everyone else... So there are more, and they're more like men... Joker?!" I corrected myself at the last moment, fearing that the former principal might hear our conversation. Still, I'm wearing a superhero costume now.
Damn, that's why there were five boxes, though it was strange, considering that seven people had escaped... Well, Hugo, the ground is glass wool, ugh. I spat under Bats' disapproving gaze, but I didn't give a shit. Fuck, my blood pressure spiked, which made my eyes darken for a moment, and the floor swayed sideways, but I managed to stay on my feet, resting my hand on the cool metal surface.
"Is everything all right?
"Of course not! There are six other crazies out there somewhere that the "good" doctor decided to make the Joker out of. Oh, great.
"Two are already dead, so there's only four wandering around. You want to hang out?" he nodded at Adams.
"Phew," I took a deep breath in and out. - Come on, maybe we'll learn something useful.
"Henry, there's someone here to talk to you," the Dark Knight said, activating the intercom and making the glass transparent on both sides.
"Hello," said the elderly man politely, moving closer to the chair and putting aside a book on field theory by Landau.
He looked pretty good, especially for a man who'd been hanging out in the casemates of a maniac and taking questionable drugs. Even his clothes looked comfortable: a slightly wrinkled white plaid shirt, brown pants, a beige knit vest, and a small bowtie to match.
"Are you into agronomy? Just kidding," I smiled as I was looked at with great surprise intertwined with equally great indignation.
"Ho-ho. Funny, indeed," the old man chuckled softly, his round, weightless gold-rimmed glasses gleaming in the light. - Henry Adams.
"Knight of Moonlight, it's a pleasure. Hmm, my fellow superhero craftsman has probably interviewed you more than once, but I'd like to hear the story in person.
The interlocutor's face took on a pained and incredibly sad expression.
"I'm sorry," he sniffed his nose, taking a blue handkerchief out of his pants pocket, "it's really hard to remember, but if I have to, I'll try.
"Please, it will help a lot in the investigation.
"All right, listen up.
I can't say that Adams's story was helpful, but if I take away all the lamentations, I now know that they were released from their confinement by someone unknown. The old man was asleep at the time and woke up to the joyous shouts of the other prisoners, chanting words of gratitude to the liberator who had gone ahead, but they didn't last long, because the noise didn't please the First, that's how Hugo called his "best" patient, who, according to the narrator's description, was a complete copy of the Joker, not only in appearance, but also in behavior, manners, speech, and way of thinking. Apparently, the psycho did not like the loud screams of the prisoners, so he came out and beat one of his comrades to death with a bar, and then, whistling a merry tune, went upstairs.
The others were a little taken aback by the performance, but they were not what one might call adequate after Strange's experiments, so the former prisoners went to take their anger out on the laboratories where they were being made into monsters. Henry was ashamed to admit that he'd been happy to smash the furniture himself, until a bloody First came downstairs with a grin that didn't bode well, announcing that there were too many of them and it was time to fix it.
"He just started counting down, blocking the exit and swinging a carving knife," the older man said with a tremor in his voice. - My drug-addled mind knew we couldn't handle him, so I ran to the casemates, hoping to catch up with the mysterious savior and negotiate with him to ambush him, or take away his weapon... That's what I thought at the time... I couldn't find the savior, but I found an extensive network of caves, where I wandered for days until I accidentally came to the surface, where I ran into Batman... Heh," he chuckled stupidly. - I then immediately tried to kill him then, following the setup. Good thing he calmly twisted me up and helped me out by putting me up here. Only... Can you ask your comrade when I'll be released? I realize that I shouldn't walk around the city yet, but I'd like to walk around a bit and get some fresh air.
"I'm curious. You said you couldn't handle the First. Is he stronger than five men?
"Stronger than the common man. He ripped the bars out of the wall. Believe me, the doctor did a good job. Besides, none of us would have teamed up, it would have been a pretty obvious winner-take-all brawl. I'm sure the rest of us ran for the hills when we realized where this was going.
"I see, thanks for the story," I turned off the intercom and shaded the glass on the other side again before heading over to Bats, who had started up the computer in front of the central plant and was concentrating on typing something on the touchscreen keyboard.
"Did you find out anything?" he asked, briefly distracted.
"Only that now there's another psycho wandering around somewhere who thinks he's the Joker, in the worst sense of the word, as well as three other pale copies of him... How are you doing?
The computer screen showed the view from the camera in the autopsy room. On the table lay the cut-up body of a man with his entrails removed, and Gordon stood beside him, hands shoved in the pockets of his beige coat.
"We're about to find out. Jim, step aside," the superhero asked, turning on the microphone briefly.
"Are you sure this thing will work this time?" The police commissioner asked, shifting to the right.
"I'm sure.
The image flickered, turning into something red, but after a couple of seconds of work, a hologram of a body lying on the table was woven right in front of me. And it was in color! Bats was really cooler than Tony Stark, if he had that kind of technology.
While I was pondering, the Dark Knight walked over to the hologram and began to scrutinize it.
"It's done," Bruce leaned over the body.
"So," the commissioner spoke, "we have a mystery man, undocumented, paid cash only, no DNA in the federal and state databases. The only thing we know is that he made an excellent dartboard target.
"There is scarred tissue around the ribs and abdomen, frontal deformity on the skull side, and a crooked nose due to the fracture.
""Boxer's mark," Gordon nodded to his thoughts. - You think he was a boxer?
"I'm not sure. The skin around his palms and wrists is rougher than on his knuckles, which means he was often defensive," Gotham's defender said as he continued his examination.
"Coach?
"Note the scars along the forearms, as if from fencing.
"A top-notch coach who was playfully massacred by someone, judging by the footprints they found, and then left a message about Wayne's death...
"Curious... - the superhero activated additional holographic screens.
"I contacted Wayne and offered to put a police unit on him for the next 24 hours, but he declined. I assume you're keeping an eye on him?
"Yeah. Everything's under control. Jim, the scanners picked up an unusual fracture on the second upper right molar.
"One second..." the man opened the dead man's mouth and held up a small mirror. - Huh, the exact same emblem as on the knives. The Court of Owls that hides in the shadows ...
"I know that poem, no need to go on. It's just a bogeyman to throw us off the scent. Just a second. - Bruce turned off the microphone after my active gesticulation, staring at me with an unblinking stare.
"They did an autopsy on Hugo?
"Jim, right now, go down to the morgue and examine the doctor's teeth.
"You think... I'll be quick," Barbara's father left the office with a quick step, remembering to cover the door.
"I couldn't help but notice the actions of my future father-in-law.
"We've been working together for years, so he understands that sometimes seconds count. You said you had samples of dead assassins. As long as there's time to test them.
I silently handed over two vials, the contents of which were immediately sent to the analyzer installed here. It was a good thing I'd thoughtfully collected four of them.
"By the way, what about Hugo, what did the autopsy say?
"He bled from multiple stab wounds, then someone roughly mangled him with a meat cleaver and left a snapping jaw.
"Court of Owls that.
"Stop it.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha, why are you freaking out? There's no telling what kind of secret cult there is in Gotham. The city's been around for who knows how long, so I wouldn't be surprised if there are owls here in addition to reptilians, illuminati and freemasons.
"It's personal and I don't want to talk about it," Bats glared at me with a frown.
"You do know that turning a blind eye to a problem can't solve it, right?
"I'm not closing. I'm discarding stupid options...
"Bingo!" our dialog was interrupted by Gordon, who flew into the office, showing a smartphone photo of a familiar symbol on his right wisdom tooth. It was partially covered by the submucosal layer that someone had cut through, so it wasn't surprising that this small detail could be missed by the forensic team.
All I had to do was look ironically at Grim Stubborn Mouse.
"Thanks, Jim. I'll have to think about it. I'll be in touch.
"I'll be in touch.
The superhero ended the call and silently returned to the computer.
Yeah, I guess in addition to his mouse fetish, Bats has a thing for owls.
"The result of the analysis is ready, - the billionaire, who loves latex suits and gachimuchi with pumped-up bandits, displayed a bunch of graphs and formulas that I didn't understand much.
"Uh... Can we keep this short? For the dumb.
"The DNA analysis was negative because the sample was badly damaged, but the chemical analysis revealed a lot of interesting things. In addition to high levels of electrum, the material that was on the weapon, there were high levels of trimethylphosphite, which gave off that unbearable odor you mentioned, and monoammonium phosphate... You say the attackers melted?
I nodded affirmatively.
"My guess is that it was a reaction with a high concentration of thermal orthophosphoric acid, and incredibly active, since all that was left of the bodies was puddles. Do you have any other questions?
"What about Henry, and why is he still locked in here? He seems fine.
"He is adequate as long as a special chemical compound is fed into the chamber. If you let him out, he will go insane under the influence of your blood before freely. The transfusion has only temporarily reversed the process, but he's a long way from complete healing.
"Wait. My blood?" Well, it seems that the pumping not only took away the constant pain, but also changed the composition of the red liquid running through my veins.
"Hugo has seriously refined it so that it was not only toxic, but also increased the concentration of certain hormones, the amount of which he further increased with various drugs.
"Okay, that takes care of the walking question, then we'll move on to the next one. Can you give me a ride, cause I'm parked south of the docks?
Mouse sighed heavily and rose from his chair.
"Let's go. I'm going the same way now anyway.
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