"Pal, you should've just minded your own business, now you're about to find out what happens to nosy types in Gotham!"
I only barely pay attention to Fat Guy trying his best to threaten me, pointing a small revolver at my head. While my knowledge about firearms is almost nonexistant, judging by the size of it, it's one of the smaller calibers, but it wouldn't matter if it was that ridiculous penis substitute Tackleberry carried around in Police Academy, nothing short of a direct hit from a tank shell can overcome my protection spell. Rather than responding, I take a look over to where the "Red Hood" is standing, and wow, even with the helmet on, it's obvious that Napier is regretting every choice that led him to this moment, he looks like he's about to take his chances and just run for it.
Obviously, I can't wait for that to happen, because his so-called partners will gun him down without a second thought, and unlike me, he's not bulletproof.
"Hey, you listening to me, ya bum?!" Fat Guy says, sounding angrier than before, his bloated face turning red from both the summer heat and his growing frustration that I'm not begging for my life "I said, any last words?"
"Mmm, two of 'em, actually" I turn to stare straight into Fat Guys eyes, and speak the magic words "Penalty Game!"
"The fuck does that-" His words die in his throat as the arm holding the gun suddenly locks up, dropping to his side, then suddenly raises back up, sticking straight out to his right "What the fuck?!" His free hand shoots out, grabbing the sleeve of the unco-operative arm and tries to yank it back down, to no avail. The frozen arm begins to bend itself, the gun still clutched in it's fingers, as it begins to move back towards his own head "Oh-oh god!! What the fuck is happening?!"
Behind him, the rest of the gang stand frozen in shock, staring as Fat Guy struggles with his own limb trying to hold him at gun point. The thin guy who was standing next to him when I dropped my Shading spell finally snaps out of it and rushes over, trying to grab the arm and pull it away "Bob, what the fuck are you doing?! Knock it off!!"
"It's not me, man! Something's doing this to me! Oh jesus christ, no!!" Fat Guy, or Bob I guess, stammers out in horror as the barrel of his own gun is placed against his temple, and though no one can see it, the bullets within the chamber have all disappeared, save for one. Wouldn't be much of a Russian Roulette game with all six bullets still inside, would it? I'm fudging the Penalty Game spell a bit, the original version technically used an illusion of a gun rather than a real one, but the end result was the same.
Man, no wonder they changed that for the anime adaptation. That was a nasty way to go.
"I didn't care for the way... Bob, was it?" I nod towards the struggling man "Anyway, I didn't care for the way Bob here spoke to me, so we're going to play a little game. You win, he walks away with his brains on the inside. You lose, or if you piss me off again, well..." I shrug.
"You're the one doing this?!" Skinny Guy finally seems to have caught on and lifts his own gun towards me "You son of a bitch, I'm going to-"
There's an audible click as the hammer of the gun strikes an empty chamber. Bob makes a wheezing noise, his face draining of color as his body begins to tremble, with the exception of the possessed arm. "FUCK!! Oh god, oh god! Kane, you gotta help me! Jesus christ, someone do something!"
"That's one chance down, folks! Bob here has a maximum of four chances left, anyone else tries to break the rules, it'll be three. Anyone else want to test me?"
"Fuck man, he's some kinda superpower freak! Like that flying guy in Metropolis!" One of the men standing behind Napier says, as he hastily stuffs his gun back into his jacket "To hell with this shit, no score is worth tangling with a superhero!" He turns right around, dashing back toward the van, with his other two friends quickly joining him.
"Hey! Get back here, you gutless cowards!" An incensed Kane yells after them, waving his gun towards them, for all the good it does.
"Screw you, Kane! You wanna tangle with this freak, go right ahead, you're not paying us enough for that!" The van starts up with a roar, and the headlights flicker back on, lighting up the parking lot. Kane seems torn, looking back at his spellbound partner, before making his decision.
"Fucking- Goddamnit, don't leave me here!" He gives Bob only a short glance before dashing off towards the van, that's already beginning to back it's way out of the gate, the passenger seat door popping open to let Kane scramble inside.
"No! NO!! COME BACK!! PLEASE!!" Bob pleads, turning his head as much as the gun pressing against his temple allows, to no avail as the van quickly wheels around, the tires spitting chunks of gravel as they screech against the pavement, before zooming out through the open gate, the taillights quickly disappearing into the night as the car charges away up the road, and out of sight.
"Wow. Guess there really is no honor among thieves, eh, Bob?" I give my captive audience an apologetic shrug "Guess that leaves just you to finish the game. I'm guessing your red-hooded friend here doesn't want to take part?"
Napier stands frozen in his spot, staring off into the distance where the van disappeared, only turning back when he hears me adress him "I-I'm sorry, I don't... I don't understand what's going on. What just happened?"
"Well, I put Bob here under a spell" I motion towards Bob, who's breathing loud enough that he's either having a panic attack, or, judging from his general physique, just finished walking up a slight incline "so now HE gets a chance at the Million Dollar Question! But in a broader sense, I'm also here for you, Red Hood!"
"W-What?!" He takes a step backwards, looking like he's about to try and follow the van on foot.
"Oops, sorry, that sounded less menacing in my head. Let me start over; the name is Randall Flagg, Freelance Magician, and I got hired by... let's call it a concerned party. I happen to know for a fact that you aren't the real Red Hood, because there IS no real Red Hood. Just desperate people these pricks have been using as marks to frame for their own crimes."
"I don't- wait, what? Freelance magician?" Napier finally seems to have registered the rest of what I told him "Are you serious? Is-is this a prank, or something?"
"Well, I don't know, let's ask Bob, shall we?" I turn towards the quivering Bob, who sounds like he's about to start crying "Hey Bob, does it feel like I'm joking? Remember what happens if you don't tell the truth!"
"You're- you're crazy! Fuck, just let me g-AHHHH!!" He screams as another click comes from the gun hitting an empty chamber.
"That wasn't the question, Bob!" I sigh theatrically, before turning back to Napier "But yes, long story short, magic is real, yadda yadda, we can go into detail later. Bob's running out of chances though, so I have some questions I'd like answered. Bob, since there's no way a sack of human garbage like you could ever think of something like the Red Hood scheme by yourself, I want to know who came up with it for you."
"I-It was Kane! I swear, he's the brain- AH!! NO NO!" Another click.
"The gun says no, Bob. Two chances left."
Holy crap, he's actually starting to CRY now! Between the blubbering, I can just about make out his answer "Okay! Okay, I'll talk! There's... there's this guy I know, I used to work as muscle for him, small-time robberies, that kind of shit. Thing is, he's a gimp, can't really do the legwork himself, so he relies on guys like us for the funds he needs."
"Funds for WHAT?!"
"I don't know, man, he's crazy! He keeps buying all these weird chemicals and stuff, says he needs it for his "work"! That's why we were going after Ace Chemicals, we weren't just going to swipe their cash reserves, we were going after some rare samples the Doc needed! I don't know what they were, I'm just a hired gun! He's the one who came up with the whole Red Hood idea, thought it'd be a good way to keep the cops off our trail, if they thought some other whackjob was the mastermind!"
I already don't like where this is going, but I think I can guess what comes next "...And would this "doc" happen to have a name?"
"I-I don't know his real name! But... he always told us to call him Doctor Death!"
And... that is not at all where I thought this was going.
.....
Doctor Death? I knew these were early days in Batmans career, but that was not a name I ever expected to hear. The only thing I know about Doctor Death from the comics was that he was basically a generic mad scientist, because it was so early in Batmans run that he was still basically The Shadow with a cooler costume, and the stories were still heavily leaning towards pulp noir. Hell, I don't even remember the guys real name, and I sure as hell didn't expect him to be involved in all of this.
"Come on, I told you everything I know! Just let me go!" Bob says, wheezing like a dying whale. Right, let's finish this up.
"Just one more thing - where did you get the costume from?"
"What? Why do you care about-" Click! "AHHH!! NO NO, THAT WASN'T MY ANSWER!"
"Ohhh, don't blow it now, you're SO close to the ending, Bob!"
There's a hand on my shoulder and I turn my head, finding myself staring into the reflective surface of the Red Hoods helmet. "Look, I know Bob's a criminal, but you're not just going to kill him in cold blood, are you?!"
I lower my voice as I whisper to Napier, making sure it doesn't carry over to Bob, who looks too terrified to listen to much of anything anyway "No, obviously not, but he doesn't need to know that." My voice raises back to normal "Well, Red Hood, that's really up to Bob, isn't it? See, now I'm curious - there hasn't been any costumed types active in Gotham since The Reaper, and that was decades ago. The new Bat guy has only been around for a few months. The old hero crowd from the Society days haven't been heard from in forever. But there's been several other Red Hoods aside from you, and this isn't some patchwork outfit that's been dug out of a bargain bin, the helmet alone must've taken quite a bit of work. And someone calling themselves "Doctor Death" doesn't strike me as the creative design type. There's a piece missing here, and I want to know what it is!"
"Fuck, you think Doctor Death would bother telling me about that?! I was just running this part of the scheme, for god's sake! Please, I swear I'm telling the truth!"
And... the gun doesn't try to fire again. "And that's our winner, folks! Tell him what he's won, Jim!"
There's a flash of light from my right eye as the Penalty Game is cancelled, and Bob's arm is released from my control. He stares dumbly as his arm flops to the side, the revolver releasing the chamber lock, and the sole remaining bullet drops from it's position as the next one in line, dropping to the pavement with a soft clink.
Oof. Close call.
I don't bother waiting for him to react before I deliver his "prize" for survival "Punch in the face!!"
Bob doesn't even have time to look up before my fist connects to the side of his jaw, rattling his teeth enough to dislodge two of them, as his heavy body slumps over unconscious on the ground, face down in a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. He'll have a headache, but he'll live. I'm fairly certain he will, anyway. Time to wrap up this party. I quickly stride over to the locked back door, and grab ahold of the chains securing it. One tug of magic-enchanced strength later, and one of the links shatters, letting me yank the whole chain loose from the door, before tossing it over the unconscious Bob.
"What are you doing now?!" Napier exclaims in surprise behind me "I thought you were stopping the break-in?!"
"I am, and once we're done here, I'll drop an anonymous call to the police about seeing something suspicious down by Ace Chemicals. They might be corrupt as fuck, but they love themselves an easy arrest!" I draw back a step and kick out with one leg, smashing the door inwards, leaving the broken pieces spread out over the hallway beyond. "This way, it'll look like a burglary gone wrong, which, you know, it kind of was. Your friend Bob here goes to jail, and my guess will be he'll try to throw his so-called friends under the bus too in an attempt at a plea deal."
"Wait, why would he bother doing any of that? All he'll have to do is say that he had an accomplice who was going to get him inside, and-"
"Really, an inside job, when the back door looks like someone used a battering ram on it?" I point a thumb towards the ruins of the door I just left "Even if he did try to give them your name, there's nothing tying you to any of this. You're not a disgruntled, laid-off employee since you quit on your own, you're out there following your dream, and let's not forget your alibi - you were hanging out with your new best friend, Randall Flagg all night!"
Napier stands there for a moment, staring at the unconscious body in front of him, before reaching up and pulling off the helmet covering his face. The man underneath is sweaty and disleveled, his eyes sunken and tired, not surprising, considering the day he's had. Far more importantly however, his skin is very much not dyed a chalk white, his hair is brown instead of emerald green, and his mouth has not been forced into a rictus grin.
Because fuck what this hellhole of a city wanted, this man isn't The Joker and he's never going to be. He is Jack Napier.
"...I don't even know you, why would you do all this for me?"
I shrug "You have someone very special in your life who just wants you to come home in one piece. Let's not leave her waiting, hmm?"1569