บท 63: Countdown to Chaos
Bruce stood off to the side, frowning as he watched the Joker's antics, trying to guess what new evil scheme was brewing.
As for the Joker, he was performing for the camera, pulling a bewildered Harvey up beside him. He made sure the whole of Gotham could see just how truly vile he was, proving it by showcasing his hostage—Harvey Dent himself, the District Attorney of Gotham!
At the police station, officers who had initially feared Harvey and Bruce were likely casualties went still, shocked to see them both alive. The Commissioner quickly broke the stunned silence, shouting, "Quick! Forget everything else; we need to find the Joker's location immediately!"
With orders given, the officers hurried to carry them out.
The Joker, meanwhile, yanked Bruce forward, making sure everyone watching could see the poor billionaire—once again on live television and, as ever, in the worst possible predicament. Whether it was plain bad luck or Gotham's twisted fate at play was anyone's guess.
"Look, I know you can see me," the Joker sneered into the camera. "And, Batsy, if you don't get here soon, your little patron here might not make it out alive. You've got twenty minutes. I know you're the punctual type, aren't you?"
Finishing his message, the Joker started to pull out of the frame but suddenly paused, as if remembering something important. He turned back to the screen. "Oh, right, almost forgot to tell you—I've planted a little firework somewhere in the center of the city. Same countdown, same deal: twenty minutes. And if it's not disarmed in time…"
He held up one hand, clenching it into a fist, then opened it to mimic an explosion, laughing gleefully, "Boom!"
"Hahaha…"
His laughter left no doubt about what would happen if the clock hit zero.
At that exact moment, Avery arrived back in Gotham and, by chance, saw the broadcast.
His gaze turned dark and intense for a moment before he headed straight to Wayne Manor.
As the television countdown began to tick, Gotham City plunged into chaos. The very mention of a possible bomb in the city center sent anyone nearby scattering in a frenzy, desperate to escape.
The police were overwhelmed, juggling multiple crises—assigning officers to find and rescue Harvey and Bruce, maintaining order among panicked crowds, and assembling a bomb squad to defuse the explosive.
Across the city, Bruce was seated beside Harvey near a window, both of them were held under guard. He calculated the remaining time and weighed his odds quietly. If no help arrived, he'd have to plan an escape with his bare hands to get to the bomb in time.
Just then, he felt a poke at the back of his head.
Startled by the jab, he checked that the guards hadn't noticed before turning around to see Avery that was hanging upside-down outside the window like a bat and grinning at him in reassurance.
The two of them stood face-to-face, each watching the other, with no time to fully relish their reunion before Joker, who had been facing away, suddenly turned around.
Avery instantly vanished, hoisting himself out of sight just in time. Joker, noticing nothing unusual, lost interest and looked away again.
The camera was still running, but now it was focused on a ticking digital clock as part of the live broadcast. Joker's deranged creativity never ceased to amaze, though at least it meant Bruce no longer had to awkwardly face the camera alone.
Several of Joker's henchmen stood rigidly at their posts. They had chosen to follow Joker willingly, but their barely concealed terror of him meant none dared slack off.
Harvey, lost in thought.
He sat while staring at nothing in particular. Bruce guessed that he was mentally working through any possible escape plans—Harvey wasn't one to sit around waiting for rescue. But clearly, he hadn't yet come up with any good ideas.
And as for Avery… Bruce wondered where he'd disappeared to after showing up a moment ago. What was he planning now?
Just then, Bruce saw something fly in from another window across the room—a familiar object sailing through the air.
Smoke grenades.
Bruce sighed internally. Alfred had certainly taught Avery his tactics well, even if those tactics could be a bit reckless. The smoke grenades would create a dense screen, but using them in a confined space would leave everyone coughing and disoriented.
But it was too late to worry. As soon as the grenades hit the floor, they began emitting plumes of thick white smoke, rapidly filling the room.
Harvey groaned. "I really hate those things."
The memory of his last encounter with smoke grenades, where he'd been left streaming tears, seemed to linger vividly. Or maybe it was the uncertainty of who would be taking them this time that left him annoyed.
Not that they had much say in the matter. Joker's henchmen stomped over, ready to march them both out of the room.
Then, suddenly, a faint whistling sound sliced through the haze. One by one, the henchmen dropped to the floor as if struck by something invisible, falling unconscious.
Joker, noticing the disturbance, pulled out his gun and began advancing toward the smoke-filled chaos.
A second flurry of whistling sounds filled the air as more projectiles sliced through the smoke. But Joker was not so easily subdued—he moved swiftly, dodging each attack with almost inhuman agility, avoiding every single strike.
Joker crouched down, inspecting a bat-shaped dart now embedded in the floor, and slowly let a grin creep across his face, his blood-red lips stretching nearly to his ears.
"He's here."
The thick smoke soon engulfed the entire room, turning everything into a hazy blur. Just then, as Harvey was calculating potential escape routes, he felt someone grab the back of his collar and pull him in a specific direction.
"Who are you?" he demanded, struggling, but there was no response. With his hands still cuffed behind his back, Harvey could do little to resist. Only once he'd been dragged out of the smoke-filled room did he feel the grip released, followed shortly by the sound of his handcuffs being unlocked and clattering to the ground.
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