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Batman back into his seat. He fought against the pressure, pushing against air that suddenly seemed to
weigh a hundred pounds per square inch. He let out a groan as he reached the control panel and moved
his hand, slowly, carefully, down to the release switch. He pressed it at last, and the balloons were free.
Once his cargo was gone, it was easy to level the plane out and turn it back toward the city. The
balloons were still rising as they drifted out over the ocean. They wouldn t be a threat to anyone for a
while. He radioed the coast guard to alert them of any potential danger. That done, he headed to Broad
Avenue.
He wished, absently, that he might have a moment to catch his breath. But every moment he spent
meant more innocent lives would be taken by the Joker.
It was time to finish this.
Boom shakalakalaka. Boom shakalakalaka.
The blaring rock music echoed hollowly down Broad Avenue. Everyone was gone. They had all run
away.
The Joker ripped off his gas mask and threw it down on the float.
He stole my balloons! he screamed.
Nobody had an answer for that. He shook his fists up at the sky.
Why didn t somebody tell me he had one of those things?
Still, nobody spoke. The Joker found this immensely unsatisfying.
He asked for Bob s gun and shot him. Good old Bob.
That made him feel a little better.
Bob pitched from the float to the money-littered street below. He was quite dead. Good old Bob.
He stuck the gun back in his coat. It was good to make sure your aim was there every now and then.
The other boys paused and watched him. It was time for orders.
Wage war, you bastards! he screamed.
He turned off the rock music.
Broad Avenue was suddenly silent, except for the sound of a distant jet.
He flew down the end of Broad Avenue. A few seconds from now, he d be directly over the Joker and
the rest of the human scum.
Batman flipped the proper switches to arm the Batwing. A computer voice softly announced when
each of the devices was properly deployed.
Searchlight.
Laser gun.
Gatling gun.
Heat-seeking missiles.
That should be enough, at least for the first ran. A few more switches and he had cleared the safety
mechanisms and armed the rockets.
It was time for a little eradication.
Batman s plane was coming for them, low and slow. But this time it looked different, less sleek than
before. It had things hanging from its lower fuselage, things that looked like guns and missiles.
The boys ran away.
It s just cookin good, you schmoes! the Joker yelled at his retreating troops. What s going on?
The boys didn t even bother looking back. What kind of loyalty was that? And after he had made
such a good example of Bob. The Joker hated to waste a good example.
A spotlight flashed on as the plane swooped overhead.
The Joker laughed, and danced out into the path of the onrushing light.
Come to me, he screamed, you gruesome son of a bitch!
He was coming up to the parade.
Or what was left of the parade. The searchlights were stationary, the floats and trucks abandoned.
Everyone was gone.
He placed the mobile missile sights over his eyes.
Not everyone was gone. In the magnified sights he saw a single figure standing in the middle of the
street, jumping up and down and waving at the approaching plane.
It was the Joker. He had his arms outstretched, as if in greeting.
Well, Batman thought, if that s the way he wants it.
Engage, he whispered softly. The computer did the rest.
Bullets, lasers, and missiles screamed down on Broad Avenue, all taking out their assigned targets.
Batman wanted to make sure the Joker didn t have any more surprises hiding in any of his floats or
other equipment. So the equipment had to be obliterated.
In the middle of all the destruction, he saw the Joker doing the waltz. Everything had missed him. So
far.
All right! He was having fun now.
Things were exploding all over the place. There went a float, here a truck oops! a building got it
that time bad shot.
Once in a while, a bullet came for him. But the Joker was faster.
A searchlight shattered, producing a magnificent rain of glass. The Joker had never seen such
wonderful destruction. You had to hand it to Batman. This was what life was all about.
Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end.
The Joker pulled out his other gun the one with the real, real long muzzle. He took careful aim as
the plane turned around for another pass.
He pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The Joker looked up from where the recoil had pushed him to the ground. It was a great gun, but it
kicked like a mule.
Bingo!
Did he have the best aim anywhere, or what?
The left wing of Batman s plane had sprouted fire and a very satisfying thick, black smoke. The plane
was wobbling badly before it swooped down overhead. The Joker ducked as it passed a dozen feet
above the street. It was aimed straight for the steps of the Gotham Cathedral.
And that s exactly where it smashed.
There was a moment of silence before the Joker started to laugh.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Commissioner Gordon pulled his car over at the edge of the destruction. He could hardly recognize this
stretch of Broad Avenue anymore. Windows and streetlights were smashed, twisted bits of metal littered
the avenue and the sidewalks on either side that is, where the road still existed. Up ahead, he could see
the avenue abruptly stop at the lip of a crater. What had these guys been fighting with out here heat-
seeking missiles?
A dozen squad cars pulled up behind him. Gordon waved for them to stop. With the condition of
Broad Avenue, they d have to go the rest of the way on foot.
Mercifully, there were very few dead bodies in the rubble ahead. Maybe, Gordon thought, they could
stop it before any more died.
This latest incident had broken Mayor Borg completely. He wouldn t talk to anyone anymore, except
to mutter darkly, over and over, about the death of Gotham City. With the mayor gone, Harvey Dent
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