Two consecutive POPs ring out like blasts from a double barreled shotgun and Dick’s neck snaps to the entrance. Despite all of the anticipation for this very moment, he still finds himself feeling caught offguard. Maybe it’s because he’d rather be Robin at a time like this.
That familiar, demented laughter rolls into the room and the party freezes in place. Dick feels a frightened hand clasp around his wrist and turns to see little Aunt Harriet looking for comfort. All at once, Dick’s fear fades away.
“Woooh! Ha ha ha!” the Joker laughs, making the scene through a curtain of confetti and smoke. His Adders Fang Gang enters either side of him and a new recruit, Gamble, of Old Moe’s gang, covers his six. The goons blast out another round of their jolly Party Poppers, this time in unison.
POP!
The Clown Prince of Crime has arrived!
“Good evening, everyone! I’m glad to see you’ve started the fun without me!” the Madcap of Mischief beams. “We are your entertainment for tonight – courtesy of the Greased Pig Malevolence Fund!
‘Aiding all those who Neglect and Unnerve!‘”
The Joker’s crew spreads out through the room, pressing the panicking partiers away from the center and up against the walls.
“Dig these cats, man,” Mark says to his partner in crime, eyeballing the nervous men and women he’s corralling. “What a bunch of squares!”
“Yeah, but they eat like kings!” Heath replies. He grabs greedily at a fistful of finger food. Heath chipmunks the grub in his mouth and ushers a servant and her serving tray away with the rest of the hostages.
“Remember! We want millionaire Bruce Wayne,” the Joker reminds his thugs seriously, “Or perhaps Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara..! Ha ha!”
Alfred’s patience quickly runs thin. The sight of the mess Joker’s gang is creating is simply too much to bear. Even ruffians such as these can show more dignity than this. Mustering up his courage, the butler confronts the bandit.
“Excuse me, sir,” he addresses the Joker, “I must insist you evict yourself from this engagement at once. This is a private fundraiser – by invitation only!”
The Joker looks Alfred up and down, amused by the audacity of the slender English gentleman. Resisting the urge to burst out in laughter, he practices his best poker face. Though the villain hides his emotions well, it doesn’t escape Alfred that this confrontation has been a mistake. He has foolishly underestimated the Clown Prince of Crime, or perhaps overestimated his own authority here. The butler only hopes his misdirected courage hasn’t crippled his Master’s plan before it even has a chance to begin.
“My services are entirely charitable, old man,” the Joker relishes in his deadpan. Gripping the butler’s reluctant hand, he finally lets a smile crack to the surface, “I offer them at no charge!”
A shocked Alfred cries out in surprise as the Joker’s tricky hand buzzer sends him into electric convulsions. The sight of the butler’s hair standing on ends is enough to throw the Joker’s head back into a hooting fit.
“Leave him alone!” Dick steps forward from the frightened crowd. His fists are clenched so tight that his knuckles have turned white.
“Ah! If it isn’t Richard Grayson, young ward of our distinguished host himself,” the Joker marvels. High on the delivery of that delicious gag and completely unaware that he’s dealing with a junior crimefighter, he steps closer to the teenager. “Isn’t it beyond your bedtime?”
Just take another step, Dick challenges the Joker with his eyes. Then I’ll rock you to sleep – with a larruping and a lullaby!
SLAM!
Dick stomps down on the criminal’s toes with every ounce of his being.
“Yaow!” the Joker howls, hopping up on his foot. His reaction is equal parts pain and surprise. What cruel pranks Fate plays! To be duped by such an unruly child!
“You Rambunctious Runt! Why, if you weren’t so small I’d lay you flat on the floor!” the Joker raises the back of his gloved hand up above his brow. The expression on his face is something dreadful, a confusing combination of scowl and painted-on smile. Dick doesn’t flinch. He sees who’s creeped up behind the villain.
“So why not pick on someone your own size, Joker!” Batman turns his arch enemy around like a top.
POW!!
Batman’s fist connects with the Joker’s white chin and sends him reeling into his crowd of hostages. The Harod of Hijinks is quick to scurry back to his feet, however.
“Be gone, Batman,” he calls his gang to arms. “This is a private party! No bats allowed!”
The Caped Crusader goes to work on the goons. A quick left, right jab sends Gamble into Dick’s eager uppercut before the poor sap knows what’s hit him. The thug goes down and the restless youngster hurries to restrain himself, lest his Holmesian aunt put two and two together!
Mark launches a haymaker at Batman, but it’s too easy for the seasoned crimefighter. He blocks the punch with his forearm and hits the hoodlum square on the nose. Mark’s head rocks back, but he manages to stay on his feet. The dizzy goon swings and misses. His head is swimming and his wild jabs are the thrashings of a man drowning in high water. Batman bobs and weaves around the painfully slow attacks. The Cowled Crimefighter cocks his arm for the knockout blow and –
SMASH!!
Heath charges shoulder-first into our hero like a derailed freight train. Batman is unceremoniously dragged several feet, a helpless rag doll in Heath’s clutches. The two careen into a buffet table and Batman finds himself trapped between the thug and a hot plate. With his arms pinned down at his sides, the heat of the catered food toasting his back and the flames licking at his fire-resistant cloak, the Caped Crusader lifts his knees up to his chest and kicks Heath clear of him.
The devil proves to be persistent. Without pause for breath, Heath charges back again, his fist swinging down like a hammer at Batman’s head.
As eagle-eyed as he is quick-witted, our hero reaches for a silver serving tray lying beside him on the table. Faster than this can be read, the tray is thrown up in front of the crimefighter as a makeshift shield.
KLAANG!!
Heath’s hand bounces off the Bat-Tray, a swelling ball of flesh and bone. Hunched over, clutching his sore mitt to his chest, the hooligan barely has time to register how seamlessly Batman goes from defense to attack.
ZAMMM!!
The Bat-Tray is brought down hard on Heath’s skull, leaving the silver plate so dented and warped it could practically be a salad bowl.
“Batman! Look out!” Dick warns his friend. He almost dares to jump in to aid his partner, the risk of revealing his secret identity be darned!
The Caped Crusader turns to see Mark swinging a wooden chair right at him. Hastily heeding Dick’s warning, he ducks down just in time. It’s a lucky move for Batman, but the knockout blow for Heath. The chair splinters apart across Heath’s torso, reduced to kindling in Mark’s hands. The muscleman goes down like a sack of so much raw beef.
The Joker scowls at this unfortunate, unfriendly-fire. But the battle isn’t over yet! The Clown Prince shoves Gamble straight into the eye of the storm and the hired gun gets a clean shot across Batman’s mask. Before Batman can return the favor, Mark throws a punch of his own and smacks the crimefighter’s cowl back the other way again. Sensing an opening, the two team up to pin Batman’s powerful arms behind his cape. It takes all the strength the thugs can muster to contain Batman’s escape-artist twists and gyrations. With each passing moment, he comes closer to breaking their grip until –
OoOFF!!
The Joker launches a whirlwind of fists into Batman’s abdomen. It’s a testament to the Caped Crusader’s superior conditioning that he’s still conscious. Alfred cringes as our hero doubles over in agony. He nearly fears that Master Dick will forget himself and do something rash when the Crusader lifts his eyes back up to meet the Joker’s. A raging fire burns behind that mask. Even when his human flesh can take no more, Batman’s mental fortitude persists.
His arms still firmly held behind him, the Bright Knight decides it’s time to use his head. He waits for the arch criminal to come back into range, then –
KLONK!!
Batman smashes his stiff cowl directly into the Joker’s noggin with a keen head-butt! Cranial lightning strikes the clown to the floor. To the surprise of his gang, the Smirking Seditionist is reduced to the crawling coward he always was.
In their stupefaction, Mark and Gamble loosen their grip the slightest bit, for just half a second – more than enough for our hero to break free of his fetters. It’s a mistake the goons will regret for days to come.
WHAMMIE!!
The two thugs meet in a head-on collision as Batman furiously attempts to fuse their temples together. The sound of the impact rumbles between Mark’s eardrums. He’s still reeling in shock when a gloved fist knocks him out of commission – for good.
Batman looks down on the incapacitated Adders Fang Gang, silently judging their sorry state. Their bruised and battered bodies lie scattered around the room. It would be easy to brand Mark, Heath, or Gamble as unworthy of sympathy, but Batman does pity them. In a way, he has saved these thugs from their own destructive pursuits, tonight. He is their punishment and teacher; their scourge and preacher. It is his duty to dish out justice and sometimes justice must be cruel. Though they might not realize it now, Batman has knocked them down in kindness.
A warm gust of wind ripples through Batman’s cape. He whirls around to the backdoor, not at all surprised to see the Joker trying to make his escape. It takes our hero a moment to register the horror of who the super criminal is dragging along with him. As the blood drains from his face, Batman’s complexion starts to match his enemy’s.
“Joker! What are you up to?!”
The villain pauses in the open doorway to brush his disheveled green wig out of his eyes. Locked under his arm is Dick Grayson. The millionaire’s ward is struggling to break free, but the Joker’s chokehold is sapping his energy quick. Even more worrisome to Batman is what appears to be an explosive pack strapped to Dick’s chest.
“Stand right where you are, Batman! Another move – and the boy gets blown sky high!”
Batman stares down his arch enemy in a Mexican standoff. He quickly (and accurately) judges the distance between them. It can’t be more than fourteen feet to the door. If he takes the Joker by surprise and sprints as fast as he can, perhaps, with some luck…
Like he’s reading Batman’s mind, the Joker tightens his grip on the detonator and his red lips peel back into a toothy grin. Batman forces himself to move before doubt turns him to stone.
The Madcap’s cackle echoes in Batman’s mind as he dashes for the doorway. His legs are two pumping pistons; his cape fights to keep up. Batman’s hand brushes the Joker’s violet sleeve, but our hero is just a split second too late.
The Joker yanks at his rip cord and the young ward is enveloped in an explosion of colored smoke.
POOF!
The Clown Prince of Crime hadn’t been lying. No! In his own twisted way, he’d been telling the absolute truth! Youthful Dick Grayson is blown up!
–
and out the door, into the warm Spring night! Batman swats the theatrical haze out of his way and gapes up into the moonlight.
“Batman!” Dick cries for help.
Drifting off into deep space, young Grayson is tethered to Joker’s dastardly Instantly Inflated Oversized Party Balloon! The festive zeppelin is swiftly tugging Dick up toward the Stately Wayne Manor roofline. A fall from that height is fatal and deadly! And without a second pair of crimefighting hands, the trusty Bat-Net is rendered completely useless!
“You… laughing, doomed villain!” Batman curses his hotfooted foe. A distant laughter bouncing down the hall is the only reply.
The Bright Knight 