Night Gaze Redemption of Joker

Chapter 2 St. Mary's Wayward School for Orphans

"Calling all cars, calling all cars. Shots have been fired on Everton Rd."
A police car zoomed and a siren blared. The sound echoed down the empty street and flashes of red reflected off of the freshly fallen snow. Gordon rounded the corner and he cruised by the ice covered mailboxes. He wanted to be the first one there. His heart was racing and he felt a little excited. His day had been long and boring. He wondered if he could get to the scene of the crime before anyone else. It was first come first serve. It was one of those unspoken rules. His instincts kicked in and his ears tuned into the silence, he listened closely but no other police cars approached. Unconsciously his foot pressed on the gas pedal. His wheels squealed as he sped up and he began to slide across the road. It took a few honks from the passing cars to snap him out of his daze and he swerved back to his lane. Gordon's foot eased off the gas and the wheel jerked as he regained control. Blaring lights flashed from the oncoming side of the street and he grabbed the visor and flipped it down. A black car was approaching. It crept down the road towards him. He briefly saw the driver but the man in the back caught his eye. The man was decked out in a white suit and hat. He rested his hand on top of a cane and his finger clinched it like he was holding a ball. He muttered something to the men in front and the man in the passenger seat turned and struck a match. He held the match out for the man in white. That man then leaned in. His cigar festered in the flame and he took in a big draw. The end of it ambered and it lit up his face. The smoke eased out of his lips and his eyes made contact. The man casted a smug smile across his face. Gordon understood it and recognized it. In an instant he sized the man up. That's because sometimes, the quality of a mans' smile can reflect one's true character. Gordon had honed this skill over the years. So, he knew that this man was scum. He saw it, and he could feel it, call it intuition. The two men watched each other as they drove away. The car sped up and six other cars behind it followed. Something about that man's smile bothered him. Was it the bad feeling he got or was it how carefree the man seemed. The man exuded confidence, and command. Gordon just knew that this man had something to do with the shooting but he also knew that if he pursued this man he would no longer be safe. BOOM, his heart jumped. There was a big explosion. It reflected in his eyes. A cloud of smoke and fire rose up and engulfed the car that was smashed into the big oak tree. Gordon pressed hard on his brakes. The gravel crunched and it stopped him from sliding. His fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and he pulled up behind the vehicle and parked. Gordon grabbed the receiver of his radio. He clicked the button and called the station.
"This is officer Gordon, to Gotham Central."
"This is Gotham Central. What is your location officer Gordon?"
"I'm here on the Westside of Everton rd. where the shots were fired. There's a black car smashed into a tree that's currently ablaze. I saw seven black cars fleeing from the scene and I wasn't able to pursue them. I'm about to investigate."
"Okay Officer Gordon, please proceed with caution. A fire truck will be sent to your location. Officer Berk says he'll be leaving soon and he will be there in a bit."
"Roger that."
Gordon placed the receiver back on its holder. The cord twisted up. A strong gust shook his car. He buttoned his coat and grabbed his badge. The police car door squeaked as he opened it and then it slammed shut. His car lights beamed on the vehicle in front of him. He could barely keep balanced due to the strong winds and snow blowing in his face. His shadow danced across the tree as he walked through the lights. Gordon could hear the crackle of the fire and he could feel the heat of the blaze on his face as he drew closer. The driver door was open and no one was inside when he came around to check. He took his flashlight out looking for clues and aimed it toward the ground. Gordon could see foot impressions leading away from the car, they led around the tree toward the house. He stopped and scratched his head because now there were multiple footprints in the snow. They seemed to be coming from different directions. He started to wonder if the person in the car was chased inside the house or did they arrive earlier. Gordon couldn't tell. He reached into his holster and pulled out his gun. He held it parallel to his flashlight. He crept up the stairs slowly and the stairs creaked. Gordon could feel his heart rapping in his chest. The door was kicked in and the screen door was tossed to the side. That ment someone forced their way in. Therefore the owner probably didn't have a chance to react. Gordon's cogs started turning. Because it now came down to the why. Why would someone kick the door in at this time of night? Did they have a vendetta with the owner? Was it a jealous lover? He went up a few more steps and he glazed over the exterior of the house. He noticed it was dark and there was only a hint of light coming from one of the windows. He wondered if the light was from a lamp or maybe even a TV. He wasn't certain. Gordon turned his head back and looked forward. His gun was drawn, his flashlight was out, he stared into the abyss of the dark room. His eyes took a bit to adjust and he could only see a little past the door. He flashed his light into the house but he still couldn't see anything and he knew this was dangerous. It wasn't a preferred situation considering what could be lingering in the darkness. The wind picked up again. It began moaning and whistling. Gordon's coat started to flap. The air traveled up his back, and it gave him a chill. He could hear the tree limbs rattling, the chimes chiming, and barks bouncing off the surrounding area. Gordon walked through the doorway. He saw a large radio and a phone to his left. His nerves trickled down his spine and he felt a bit uneasy. It felt like breathing underwater. Gordon found himself holding his breath, clenching his gun, and his finger was caressing the trigger. There was a noise coming from the right of him. It was scratchy and loud. He whipped his head around and his eyebrows lifted. He saw Jack sitting on the couch. His light shines in the boy's face but there was no reaction. Gordon crept closer and he looked side to side.
"Hey, kid!" Gordon yelled.
He hoped to alert him of his presence but Jack didn't notice him. The boy was shivering. His breath was visible. Gordon approached him slowly. His foot slipped on the floor because it was wet. Gordon became more cautious and he resumed moving toward Jack.
"Hey, what happened here? Why was your door kicked in? Are you alright?
Jack wasn't completely coherent. His thoughts were fuzzy. He didn't hear anything being said to him. Gordon got closer and closer. He now stood next to Jack. He noticed the boy's hair was wet. His skin was pale. The whole scene was odd and somewhat spooky. He wondered how old the boy was. He figured that he was no older than ten or maybe even twelve. The noise that he heard earlier was getting louder. He finally pinpointed its origin. It was coming from the television. He thought that it sounded like a lot of people rubbing sandpaper together. White and black speckles danced across Jack's face. His eyes were fixated on something. Like there was something beyond the TV. Gordon looked where Jack's eyes gazed but there was nothing there. So, he wondered.
"Hey kid, what are you looking at?"
Jack could see his old man standing before him. His fathers skin had the absence of life. It was gray and pale. Frank's head and body still bore the wounds that were inflicted on them. His eyes glared with aggression towards Gordon. He didn't like officers, he didn't like the law.
"Go on and tell him, boy. Tell him you see ghosts. You know what they do to people that can see ghosts. They take them down and lock them up in Arkham. So,go on, go on and tell him." His father encouraged.
Jack had know intention of doing so. He knew what he needed to say.
"I'm not looking at anything." Jack said in a stern voice.
Something about his voice sounded dark and hateful. As if he was possessed. It was his tone that made Gordon shiver. Gordon walked to the back of the couch and he looked around the room. He took out a pad and wrote down some notes.
"Hey kid, what's your name?"
He shined his light up the stairs.
"Jack."
Gordon took a mental note. He had learned in the past if you use a person's name, they would more likely open up to you.
"Jack, I'm Gordon."
" I'm here because I was told there were shots fired here. Was there a gun fired here and is anyone hurt?"
Jack was silent. Gordon started to assume the worst.
"Where's your parents?"
"My mom is dead and my father is in the kitchen."
"So, your father is here?"
"Yes."
"Is he hurt?"
Jack was silent once again. Gordon saw a light coming from a room in the back. The light was shining from underneath the door.
"Is the Kitchen back here , Jack?"
"Yes."
Gordon pulled up his gun again and started walking.
"What's your fathers name?"
"Frank."
"Frank, it's officer Gordon. Are you hurt sir? Have you been shot?"
Frank said nothing. Gordon's other hand extended to the door and he slowly twisted the nob. The door was barely ajar and he could see a body lying sprawled out on the floor.
"This must be Frank." He said to himself.
The door swung back as he lunged his gun around it. Frank seemed to be the only one there. The poor man was lying with his face to the side in his own blood. His face had a big gash in it and a bullet between the eyes. The kitchen looked like the rest of the house. It looked like it had been thoroughly searched. Whoever did this left the back door wide open.
"Jack, your father is dead!"
"Yes. I know."
Did the kid not care? Usually hardened criminals can shrug off death but he is a child he should be innocent. Gordon didn't expect this coldness to come from this boy's mouth.
"Jack, did you hear me? I said your fathers dead?"
"I heard you, officer. I know my fathers dead and I'm glad he's dead."
Gordon frowned. He thought that it almost sounded like Jack was happy.
"Did you not love your father, son?"
"No, sir."
"Do you know who killed your father?"
Jack was silent for a bit.
"You tell him it was Richard Hands, boy. Tell him that is the man who killed your father."
"No." Jack responded. His eyes leered at Frank.
"You. You're going to disobey me? The father that clothed you. The father that fed you."
"Yeah, and do you know why dad? You're dead and you can't hurt me anymore."
"So, that's it, huh."
Jack nodded his head. His father drew back his fist and rushed him. Jack flinched. Frank passes through his body. Stumbled back to the kitchen and passed through Gordon. He fell out the back door. Gordon felt a chill and rubbed his arms.
"It's really cold in here." He thought to himself.
He shut the back door. Frank got up and he found himself in a room of shadows. He noticed he couldn't move around freely as he once did. Every part of him felt heavy. At first he thought his eyes were fooling him but the shadows seemed to be moving closer to him. They had red glowing eyes. All he could hear was whispers. Then he saw something bright moving through them. Its voice was different from the others, it was female. The voice was soft and gentle. It started to sound really familiar but he couldn't believe his ears. He knew it couldn't be true.
"Mirah." he whispered.
Her eyes were red as well. She had a cold smile. Her skin was porcelain white and her head was slightly cocked. She now hovered above him.
"Mirah, is that you?" He said a little scared.
Her mouth opened and it looked like gum was stuck in between her lips. Then she screamed. The shadows reacted to her voice and they grabbed his arms. Suddenly he found himself surrounded. Frank couldn't break free. This reminded him of his nightmares. Fear rushed over him.
"Mirah, please, I'm sorry." he begged.
"Franky, do you remember our vows?"
"For better or worse. To death. Do - we..." She whispered.
Then she shrills. "PART!"
"No please don't. No, please stop."
Frank starts to scream. He never knew there could be pain after death. He wondered if this was hell. The shadows' teeth started sinking into his soul. He could feel himself being devoured. Frank screamed again and again. It was more agonizing than the dreams he had. It was 100 times worse. He felt like he was being ripped apart. Then the shadows retreated, he was reduced to just a bit of the eye and the eyebrow. Mirah drew closer. His eye shook in its socket. It shook in fear. She grabbed it and brought it up to her mouth.
"This is where we part my dear."
She swallowed the last piece of him and he was no more.