James Gordon settled the phone back onto the cradle. It was slick with the police commissioner's sweat. Feeling the dampness of his own hand, Gordon wiped it on his pants, then ran it through his deep gray hair.

"James, who was that on the phone?" Sarah Essen called from the other room.

"Barbara." His voice shook only a little, a testament to James Gordon's strength of will.

"I was beginning to worry about her." Gordon's wife appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a bathrobe, and her hair was wet from the shower. "I hope you asked her to join us for dinner tomorrow. It's not healthy for her to stay cooped up in that clock tower all the-"

"Not that Barbara," James cut in. "It was my ex-wife in Chicago."

"Hmph." Sarah wasn't sure of what else to say. The divorce James had with his wife was hardly amicable. She'd wanted nothing more to do with him or the city of Gotham. "Is there something going on with James Jr.?"

"No, but this does involve him," James replied. "Barbara was diagnosed with breast cancer last week."

Unlike many of those referred to as 'the other woman', Sarah Essen held no ill will towards the former Mrs. Gordon. Her relationship with James over ten years ago had had nothing to do with the divorce, for which Sarah was glad. The woman had simply been unable to handle her husband's career as a cop, particularly in a city like Gotham. Sarah could understand that. Even being a cop herself, she often had difficulty handling it. To Sarah, Barbara was nothing more than a stranger that her husband knew.

So, Sarah's reaction was typical of a woman who had just heard that another woman had contracted breast cancer.

"Oh my god, that poor woman. Has she seen a doctor about her chances?"

"She said that the chances were good," answered James. "Surgery, aggressive chemotherapy; the general standard from what I know. She refused my offer to help, said that she was prepared to go through everything alone." He sighed. "I've been through enough interrogations, and I've known her long enough, to know that she was lying."

Sarah stepped forward, placed her hand on her husband's shoulder. "James, if you feel that you should.... You should go be with her."

James Gordon shook his head. "No. From what I'd read in her voice, she doesn't want me there. Doesn't want me to see her...during the treatments. I've seen cancer patients; I...I don't blame her.

"No, the reason she was calling," James continued. "She called because she doesn't want our son to be there. And I agree; it's not something for a boy to go through, let alone watch as it progresses. Within the week, he'll be on a plane to Gotham." He turned around. "I know we should have discussed this..."

"There's nothing to discuss," Sarah said. "Of course he can come stay with us."

Looking at his wife's kind, giving face, James smiled. The couple embraced.

"I know that it'll be tough," James said. "James will have to adjust to so much, and neither of us have much experience in dealing with this type of situation."

"Then we'll just have to deal with the adjustments as they come along." Sarah released her husband. "But first, we need to get this place ready. I'll need to make up the guest bedroom, go grocery shopping for a pre-teen boy, work out both our schedules to accommodate-"

The phone was ringing again. James Gordon picked it up.

"Hello," he said into the phone. He listened for a moment, and then held the phone out for Sarah. "It's for you, Captain. Major Crimes Squad."

Sarah took the phone, identified herself, and listened. After a short time, she nodded and said, "Okay, I'll be at the scene momentarily." After she hung up, she looked at Gordon. "It's an arson/homicide."

James Gordon sighed. "I'm better suited to shop for James anyway."

The car came to a stop at the edge of the police barricades. Captain Essen-Gordon stepped out, her badge held ready to show the officers. She didn't need it; they recognized her and waved her through. Captain Essen raised the badge anyway.

"Always check the badges, people," Captain Essen ordered. "In a city where Clayface runs around loose, you can't always trust faces."

Moving past the chastised officers, Captain Essen walked towards the burnt out husk of a building, recently abandoned after the Clench epidemic. The detective on the scene was Renee Montoya.

"What do we have here, Detective?" Captain Essen asked.

Detective Montoya was kneeling over three bodies, all covered with sheets. If those were the victims of the fire, then the sight beneath those sheets couldn't be pretty. Detective Montoya looked up at the approaching captain and began to rise.

"Dispatch got the call about an hour ago. By the time the fire trucks got here, it was almost out. You can always depend on the promptness of Gotham's concerned citizens. If it was even one of them."

Detective Montoya gestured to the bodies. "These were the only ones found inside. It'll take dental records to identify them."

Captain Essen nodded. "Any ideas as to who did this?" Most likely it was insurance, the owner trying to get what he could out of a bad investment. These guys were just caught inside. Unless they were the target.

"Most likely an insurance arson," Detective Montoya replied. "We found the perp tied up not too far away. Somebody caught him in the act. It's probable that this somebody also made the call." It was an unspoken rule among the GCPD that the Batman would never be named at crime scenes, especially in Captain Essen's presence. Few officers in Gotham liked to acknowledge the vigilante's existence, least of all the Commissioner's wife.

"This guy have a record?" Captain Essen asked.

"You could say that," answered Detective Montoya. She led the captain through the throngs of officers, firemen, and EMT workers. "Extortion, assault, attempted murder, and so many insurance fraud counts that nailing him will probably lower rates country-wide. I've already had a call made to Keystone and Central City for his files."

"He did all that stuff in Keystone and Central?" Captain Essen asked incredulously. It was a known fact that common crimes in those cities were all but non-existent. "Oh Christ, then he must be a...."

"Yep, he's a Rogue," Detective Montoya finished. "One guess as to which one." She'd led Captain Essen to a police car at the other end of the crime scene. The perpetrator was inside, out of costume. It, and his gear, were in a locked box under guard by four uniformed officers.

Captain Essen shook her head. "It's funny, I'd heard Heatwave had retired."

"Then somebody gave him wrong directions," quipped Detective Montoya. "To get to Florida from Central City, you turn right at the coast."

The stench of cigar smoke filled the room. However, the smoky odor was not prevalent over all the other foul stenches that permeated the small interrogation room. The smells of sweat, urine, blood. Fear, more often than not.

Exhaling another cloud of foul-smelling cigar smoke, Lieutenant Harvey Bullock stuck the cigar back into his mouth and considered the prisoner seated across from him. "You know, without the asbestos and hand-held flamethrower, you look just like another guy, Rory. Tell me, how powerful do you feel, without a gimmick in yer hand and a mask over yer face? I bet ya don't feel any power, isn't that right? You just feel like another regular guy? That's why you became Heatwave, wasn't it?"

All Rory Calhoun did was shake his head. He gave no other answer.

Lt. Bullock glanced down at several of the papers on his desk; Rory's files. "Says here that you got locked in a meat freezer when you were a kid. Traumatized you, didn't that? That why you became Heatwave, to keep warm all the time?"

Again, Rory Calhoun shook his head. Lt. Bullock shrugged. "Doesn't really matter to me. I ain't a psychoanalyst. I couldn't care less why you did anything. All I wanna know is who."

Several papers slid along the table towards Rory. Photos of a burnt-out building, with several covered bodies lain out front. Bullock nodded at them. "Who hired you, Rory?"

Bullock didn't receive an answer. Inside, the Lieutenant was seething with impatience and anger. On the outside, he was calm. Playing bad cop with this guy wouldn't accomplish anything, Bullock knew.

So Bullock kept talking. "I've checked yer sheet, Rory. 'Cept fer that devil business 'bout a year back, you never killed anybody. Arson, extortion, assault, insurance fraud, everything there is except murder. You even tried ta reform a couple'a times, didn't ya?"

At last, Bullock got a nod out of Rory. "Right. Even more'n that, you worked as a firefighting consultant. You were out there saving lives, Rory. I know you didn't mean to kill those people. The place was supposed to be abandoned, isn't that right? It wasn't yer fault."

Taking the cigar out of his mouth, Lieutenant Bullock leaned forward and blew a cloud of smoke into Rory Calhoun's face. The criminal didn't flinch.

"But ya see, the DA's not the kind'a guy ta let three murders slide. Somebody is taking the fall fer this, Rory. Help yerself here. Give us the name o' the guy that hired ya."

For a short while, Rory didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring ahead into Lieutenant Bullock's eyes. There was a far-away, blank expression on Rory's face. The eyes were open, but they weren't staring at anything.

Shit, thought Bullock. This nutjob's not even thinking about it. He's just zoned out.

Eventually, Lieutenant Bullock began to lose his patience. The anger was building inside of him, bubbling up towards the surface. It was then, mere seconds before Bullock would have lost it, that Rory gave his answer.

Another shake of the head.

Whatever Bullock's reaction might have been, it was cut short by a sharp rap coming from behind the mirror that made up one wall of the interrogation room. Without a word, his face betraying his enmity towards the arsonist, Lieutenant Bullock rose out of his seat, strode towards the door, opened it, and left the room.

Outside in the hall, Lieutenant Bullock met up with Detective Renee Montoya and Captain Sarah Essen. All three were part of Gotham's Major Crimes Unit. Which, for Gotham, generally meant that they handled the freak crimes.

"For a guy who's afraid of the cold, he's frozen solid," Montoya remarked.

"He's an old pro at this," Bullock agreed. "Call it customer loyalty or whatever, but he ain't gonna talk. Any luck tracking the owner, Captain?"

"Ran a check through records. Turns out the original owner died in the Clench outbreak. Ownership was transferred to the city."

"So unless the mayor got hard up for some cash, this couldn't have been an arson-for-hire," commented Montoya. "Which means Heatwave was out to kill those men."

Bullock shook his head. "I just don't see it. This guy's been at it for years, and he's never killed. Why start now?"

"Find out who our victims were," Captain Essen ordered. "Maybe that'll answer your question."

The four of them met in Robinson Park, their costumes concealed under trench coats. A thick fog had settled over the park, further concealing them, the Rogues. Mirror Master had suggested the old carnival, but the others had vehemently refused. No way were they meeting in a place that had a House of Mirrors.

Captain Boomerang spoke first. "The cops got Heatwave. Sources tell me he was found right after he burnt some place up, tied up."

Captain Cold chuckled. "It figures he didn't give Batman much of a fight. The freak's used to taking on firebugs. Or Fireflies, rather."

"He's used to dealing with chillers, too," Weather Wizard commented.

Captain Cold held up his hand-held cyclotron. "This baby doesn't just freeze things. It takes everything down to zero. I've messed with the Flash's speed for ten years with this. I also don't have to survive in extreme colds. Mr. Freeze has nothing on me!"

"Whatever," chided Mirror Master. "So, how do you guys wanna do this, one-on-one or pile-on? I can understand you guys wanting my help...."

"Lose the ego there, mate," Captain Boomerang cut in. "I can handle some costumed freak by myself, and I'll want everyone to know it when I do. It's good for business."

"Same here," added Captain Cold. "Any of us could take out Batman one-on-one. It's just a matter of who does it first."

Weather Wizard waved his wand with a grin. "How about we make it interesting, then? I know of a good bar here in Gotham. All the losers buy the winner's drinks for the night?"

Captain Boomerang laughed. "I'll take that bet"

"Me too."

"I'm in."

Chuckling, Captain Cold tips his hood at the other Rogues. "I'll see you all later tonight then, boys. Have yer money ready."

With that, Captain Cold turned and walked into the fog. Slowly, Weather Wizard and Mirror Master began to do the same. But then Mirror Master noticed that Captain Boomerang hadn't moved. He was frowning, in fact.

"What's the matter, aussie? You scared'a losing all of a sudden?"

"I was just thinking; Heatwave knew where we were all meeting. If Batman had gotten him..." Captain Boomerang shook his head. "Nah, Rory wouldn't talk."

It's ironic that, just as Captain Boomerang said this, an object whistled in through the fog and struck him in the side of the head. Captain Boomerang crumbled to the ground, much to the panic of Mirror Master and Weather Wizard.

"Oh shit!" Weather Wizard exclaimed. "He talked! That rat bastard talked!" Frantically, he looked about, but couldn't see anything amidst the fog. "Where is he! I can't see a fucking thing in this!"

"So get rid of it," a voice whispered from behind Weather Wizard.

"Ah!" Weather Wizard cried out, frightened. He jumped at the sound of the voice and swung around, his wand held ready. Suddenly, a hand shot out from the fog and gripped Weather Wizard's wrist. With a cry of pain, the Rogue dropped his wand.

The owner of the hand stepped out of the billowing fog. It was the Batman who had disarmed Weather Wizard. He held up his other hand, which held the wand. "Never mind. I'll do it myself."

The color drained from Weather Wizard's face. "Y-you!" Panicked, Weather Wizard fought to break free of the Batman's grip, while calling out for Mirror Master. "He's here! Get him, man! Get him!"

"He left," the Batman said. "Mirror Master abandoned you."

"No, no." Weather Wizard shook his head. "He wouldn't do that. He . . . Sam wouldn't have done that." A snarl formed on Weather Wizard's face. "But Evan . . . that goddamned Scotsman. He would."

At a wave of the wand in the Batman's hand, the fog began to lift. He released Weather Wizard's wrist, and the villain made no move to run. He knew when he was beaten.

"Heh, I never would have figured Rory ratting us out, either. Shows how much I know about my old pals."

"Heatwave didn't talk," the Batman said. "I noticed the fog, knew it was unnatural. Figured where there's one Rogue, the others can't be far behind."

"You learn something new everyday," chuckled Weather Wizard. "So, what are you gonna do about us? I haven't exactly committed any crimes here in Gotham. Neither did George here."

"I'm not the police," replied the Batman. "You and your friend can leave Gotham tonight, without your equipment. All I want are answers."

Weather Wizard shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I can live with that." Losing his wand would be tough, but Weather Wizard still had the notes he'd used to create it. Making a new wand wouldn't be too hard. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you come to Gotham?"

It didn't take long for Weather Wizard to recount the previous conversation between the Rogues and the Joker. By the darkening expression he noticed on the Batman's face, Weather Wizard was glad that he wasn't the Joker. Weather Wizard could almost swear that he heard the Batman mutter something that sounded like "It must have been him, then."

"What?" asked Weather Wizard. A glare from the Batman was all the answer he received.

"The other two. Where are they?"

Weather Wizard shrugged. "How should I know? Captain Cold's been borderline psycho since we came back from hell, and Mirror Master's probably halfway back to Central by now."

The Batman took one step towards him. Weather Wizard raised his hands. "Whoa! Okay, man, I have no idea about Captain Cold, but Mirror Master mentioned the House of Mirrors at the old carnival. If he isn't leaving town, he'll probably be there."

The Batman raised the Weather Wizard's wand. "Stay out of my city." The wand was lowered. Bolts of lightning flashed overhead; Weather Wizard instinctively closed his eyes and turned away. When the lightning passed, Weather Wizard turned to find that the Batman had gone.

"Shit, even Wally isn't that fast."

Nearly an hour later, both Lieutenant Bullock and Detective Montoya entered the interrogation room. Rory Calhoun, Heatwave, was still in his seat. Bullock tossed a folder onto the desk as he and Montoya sat down.

"You know what's in that folder, Rory?" Montoya asked. Rory didn't answer. "Dental records. We ran a check on those guys you torched. You know who they were?"

Rory just kept staring straight ahead.

"Today's yer lucky day, cause we're giving you all the answers," Bullock said. "Turns out these guys were in the system, had dental work done at Blackgate. I won't bother you with their real names, but they usually went by Moe, Larry, and Curly."

This time, Rory did react. Slowly, a smile formed on his face.

Bullock leaned forward, his lips curled into a snarl. "This ain't no joke, freak. You killed three people. Worse, you killed the Joker's people. I've seen what happens to guys that upset the Joker, and the images still keep me up nights. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit if two freaks wanna kill each other off, but more-often-than-not some innocent guys get caught in the crossfire. That, I don't want."

As Bullock leaned back, Montoya talked. "Today's your lucky day, Rory. You're being extradited back to Central City on some outstanding warrants. Much as we hate to admit it, we don't have enough to hold you here. Anybody could have set that fire and left you there tied up. Truth is, even if we did have enough, we don't want you here. So congratulations, you're going home."

Rory's smile got a little bit wider. Bullock shook his head and looked over at Montoya. "Cripes, this is one fruity little fruit. Gives us the cold shoulder fer over two hours, and now he's all smiles-"

"Hahahahahahahaha!" The sound came exploding out of Rory's mouth, a cascade of maniacal laughter. "Hahahahahahahahaha!" As the laughter grew louder and louder, Rory's eyes began to bug out, the veins on his neck tightened, his face began to go purple.

Montoya jumped out of her seat and began to go around the desk. Bullock jumped out of his seat and over the desk. Made of strong oak, the desk buckled but didn't break. "Oh shit! We need paramedics now!"

Behind the glass, Captain Essen was already screaming out commands.

Lieutenant Bullock slammed into Rory, knocking the hysterical Rogue to the floor. Heatwave made no move to fight back. He was shaking and writhing about, still laughing hysterically. He was unable to do anything but laugh.

Bullock grabbed Rory by one shoulder, Montoya grabbed him by the other. They both knew what they were dealing with, had handled victims of it before. Somehow, either before or during the interrogation, Heatwave had been injected with Joker Toxin. All they could do was hold the guy down, control the convulsions as they came, try to keep him alive until the paramedics arrived with the anti-toxin.

A short time later; Detective Montoya, Lieutenant Bullock, and Captain Essen were standing outside the interrogation room, watching the paramedics carry Rory Calhoun out. He was unconscious, but alive.

"It was all the Joker," Captain Essen muttered. "He found out Heatwave was in Gotham, kidnapped him, set the fire, and left Heatwave to keep us busy."

Detective Montoya nodded. "We found a fresh scar on his ass. Joker must have implanted some kind of capsule filled with the toxin. After a few hours, the capsule dissolved, and the toxin entered the bloodstream."

"The bastard played us," Bullock cursed. "But what I don't get is, why were the paramedics already on the way?"

"Dispatch said they'd received a call about five minutes before Heatwave had the attack," Captain Essen told the lieutenant. "Somebody tipped them off, probably the… somebody who monitors our transmissions, heard about the arrest, knew that he wasn't the one who got Heatwave..." It took a lot for Captain Essen to acknowledge the Batman's role in this, even to that extent.

"It saved Heatwave's life, that's for sure," added Montoya. "Now we just have to figure out why the Joker went to all this trouble. He wanted us busy with Heatwave, but why?"

"Captain, we just got something." Officer Wayne Roder walked quickly towards the Captain. "A maniac with a freeze gun is tearing through the Upper West Side, and it's not Mr. Freeze. The QRT is already on their way.*"

Lieutenant Bullock rolled his eyes. "Dammit, it's starting already. We need to nip this thing in the bud quick, Captain, before some of Superman's pals decide to make themselves at home as well."

Captain Essen nodded. "Bullock, Montoya, meet up with the QRT and check it out. I want this taken care of fast." She turned to Officer Roder. "Put all precincts on alert. For all we know, the rest of the Rogues could be here."

*(QRT = Quick-Response-Team, Gotham's equivalent of a SWAT team)

The Gotham Carnival had been abandoned for a number of years. The rides were old and rusted, many of the booths empty except for rats. Instead of the laughter of children, there were the drunken snores of homeless.

The only attraction in any sort of good repair was the House of Mirrors. Most of the homeless avoided it, and even the rats seemed to keep away. It may have had something to do with the giant grinning clown's head that hung over the entrance.

The Batman barely glanced up at the head as he walked into the House of Mirrors. That the Joker was behind everything there was no doubt. But the Batman couldn't afford to dwell on it at the moment. After the threats were taken care of, then it would be the Joker's turn.

Walking slowly through the entrance, the Batman reached up and felt at the cowl, over his ears. The plugs were in place. The Batman then placed his hand over a device attached to his belt. Confident in his measures, the Batman continued into the Hall of Mirrors.

Entering, the Batman was confronted by dozens of reflections. All were of himself, and all were distorted in one way or another. But the Batman wasn't interested in his reflections. Thus far everything appeared normal. Carefully, the Batman scanned the mirrors with his eyes, searching for the slightest inconsistency.

Here was the moment, the Batman knew. His other four senses didn't matter, not against the Mirror Master. All he could rely on was his sight, and the device on his belt.

There, the Batman caught something. Just a glimpse, but he snatched at it. A reflection in one of the mirrors that was not of the Batman, but of the Mirror Master. With anyone else, the Batman would have inferred that the Mirror Master was behind him. But with the Mirror Master reflections were meaningless. He could literally be anywhere in the Hall of Mirrors, even standing right before the Batman's eyes.

But the Batman didn't care about where the Mirror Master was specifically. It was enough to know that the Mirror Master was in the room.

His eyes taking in everything around him, the Batman pressed a switch on the device at his belt. The plugs in his ears were almost useless; the frequency was too high for humans to hear. Still, the plugs would deaden the vibrations racing through the Batman's skull. Enough that he could ignore the pain, and continue to scan the area while every single mirror shattered.

There he was, the Mirror Master, standing dumbfounded no more than a foot before the Batman. Before the Rogue could react to the sudden loss of his equipment, the Batman stepped forward and slugged him hard. Mirror Master crumbled to the ground unconscious.

Standing over the beaten criminal, the Batman shut off the device, a sonic emitter. It had been originally designed to attract bats, but a slight modification of the frequency made it ideal for other purposes.

Pressing his hand to a transmitter in his cowl, the Batman spoke. "Oracle, give the police an anonymous tip as to the whereabouts of the Mirror Master. The House of Mirrors at the old carnival."

"You got it." The computerized voice came from the receiver in the Batman's ear. "By the way, the paramedics got to Heatwave in time."

"What about Captain Cold? Anything on him yet?"

"Haven't heard anything . . . wait, something's coming in over the police band. They've got Captain Cold cornered in the Upper West Side."

After a moment of thought, the Batman nodded. "Okay, I'll be there as soon as-"

"Wait," Oracle interrupted. "There's something else coming in…."

Lieutenant Bullock brought the squad car screeching to a halt. Hurrying out, Lt. Bullock perused the area. The Quick Response Team had the entire street cordoned off, and one building completely surrounded. No doubt the other buildings were empty. It was standard procedure to evacuate the area of civilians.

"Lieutenant Bullock." An officer of the QRT approached Bullock. His face was concealed by the ballistic helmet and filtered facemask, part of the standard QRT gear. "Lieutenant Hennelly is expecting you, sir. Please follow me."

The guy must be new, Bullock figured. No veteran officers were that polite. Giving a grunt, Bullock threw his spent cigar on the ground and followed the young QRT officer.

Lieutenant Gerard Hennelly, commanding officer of the Quick Response Team, had made headquarters at a local restaurant across the street. Bullock spat on the sidewalk before walking inside. Thank god, the place made donuts.

Lt. Hennelly looked up from the blueprints laid out on the counter. "Bullock. You here to observe or take over?"

"Nah, you seem to have things well in hand here. I'm just here to observe." Bullock snatched a donut from a large platter. "And eat. So, what's the situation?"

"We currently have Captain Cold holed up in the building across the street. It's the office of a local bail bondsman. Why Cold decided to attack this place is anybody's guess."

Chewing on his donut, Bullock reached into his coat and took out a sheath of paper. "Did some reading on the way over here. This bum tried to play things straight a few years back, doing some work as a bounty hunter. Most likely he had some dealings with this guy."

Hennelly nodded. "Well, the guy's dead now. I saw his frozen, shattered body when I led the initial raid. Cold managed to keep us at bay, though; two of my guys are in the hospital."

Bullock took another bite of his donut. He'd seen the ambulance on his way to the scene. "How do things stand now?"

"About as can be expected," Hennelly replied. "He's retreated to the upper floors, created some kind of ice barricade so we can't get to him. The phone there is down, so we can't communicate." Hennelly spread his hands. "Since then, nothing. He hasn't made a move."

"We think he might be waiting for someone," Bullock said. "We found a chat transcript which suggests the Joker may've egged a few of these costumed nut jobs up from Central City."

"Oh fuck," Hennelly blurted out. Bullock nodded in agreement. Both lieutenants then turned to the sounds of a commotion outside.

Rushing out, Bullock looked up at a long walkway of ice suspended some twenty feet above the street. At the end of this extending ice slide was Captain Cold, his freeze gun delivering a constant spray of ice. Every few seconds the Rogue would stop his ice slide and fire a few shots down into the street. No officers were hit thus far, but a fair number of barricades and patrol cars were encased in ice.

Walking out behind Bullock, Lt. Hennelly took one look at the scene and just couldn't help but bust out a rough laugh. "Oh man, is this guy serious?"

Lt. Bullock couldn't help but chuckle himself. "I'd say he's getting impatient. That and stupid." Glancing up at the long ice walkway, Bullock smiled and gave a nod. "Yep, definitely stupid. Mr. Freeze at least knows to put up supports."

Shaking his head, Lt. Hennelly unclipped a small grenade from his belt. "Well, we don't have all day to wait. I'll just speed things up."

Yanking out the pin, Hennelly chucked the small grenade towards Captain Cold. It landed just short of him, on the ice, and went off on impact. Immediately, the ice broke, and Captain Cold was stunned by the impact.

So stunned that he dropped his ice gun and plummeted almost twenty feet onto the street. He landed hard, breaking his leg on impact.

Watching as the incapacitated Captain Cold screamed in agony, Bullock chuckled. "Nice throw Jerry. You wanna book him?"

Hennelly laughed. "Nah. I just take them down. If they're alive, then you get to arrest them."

Drawing his gun with one hand and taking his pair of handcuffs in the other, Lt. Bullock approached Captain Cold.

"You fucking cops!" Captain Cold screamed. "When I get my gun, I'm gonna shatter you like fucking Humpty Dumpty! You hear me, you fucking-"

Lieutenant Bullock kicked Captain Cold in the face.

"You have the right to remain silent," Bullock began. Grabbing one of Captain Cold's wrists, Bullock snapped one cuff on. "Anything you say can and will be used against you, including that death threat."

Captain Cold started to mumble something, so Bullock yanked back hard on the arm. The criminal grunted, but kept quiet.

"Better. You also have the right to any attorney." Bullock snapped the other cuff on Captain Cold's wrists. "If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at no cost. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"Yeah," Captain Cold muttered. "Do you understand that I'm gonna shove an icicle up your fat ass the moment I-"

Satisfied that Captain Cold understood his rights, Lt. Bullock shoved his face hard into the pavement. Semi-conscious, whatever Captain Cold was saying trailed off into a moan.

Lt. Bullock lifted Captain Cold to his feet. "Welcome to Gotham City, ya pussy."

Hearing the arrest announced on the police band, the Batman smiled. "Oracle, just make sure that Weather Wizard and Boomerang leave Gotham. And keep me informed of Heatwave's condition."

"No problem." After a moment, Oracle added, "He really didn't have a chance, did he?"

"No, he didn't," the Batman agreed. "Not against the Gotham City Police."

Next Issue: Joker's Bane begins!

Story © 2003 Steve Crosby and may not be reproduced without permission.