The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

74

I find a pistol in a backpack in the exact dumpster of the exact alley the Joker promised in the plans. My fingers wrap around the cool steel as a slightly nauseous feeling unrolls through my gut. Without Unkindness, I would be doubting myself. I'd be tempted to call this whole thing off and think of another way to get the Bat's attention. Instead, I take a moment to familiarise myself with the safety and the chamber before slipping the pistol into my belt and taking to the shadows once more.

My footsteps tap out in near silence in the darkness as adrenaline floods my veins. I reach the street and spot the bright blue van immediately. It's almost pastel in a sea of darkness, lit by the storefronts of hardware stores and street lamps. No more than a shadow in the night and no more conspicuous than a raven, I flit across the street, and hammer three times on the back doors of the van.

They open from the inside and I'm facing three men in khaki overalls wearing face masks that almost match my own—only not as refined, and bright blue to match the van. My breath catches in my throat for just a second. They also have machine guns strapped over their bodies, and I suddenly feel under-armed. I've been clinging to this too fiercely so far to consider the possibility the Joker might be planning to cross me in the end. I can only hope I'm more useful to him alive and in Batman's pocket than dead in the Bank of Gotham.

"Come on," I say, closing the doors behind me and taking a seat. "We need to get to the subway tunnel."

The men wearing avian masks do not speak. One taps on the divider to the driver's seat and we set off, moving slowly through the streets of Gotham. Unkindness makes me look totally unbothered, leaning back against the frame of the van and inspecting the talons of my gloves.

Finally, one of the men says, "Have you heard from our inside man?"

"Of course not," I say smoothly. "I'm only here on the Joker's orders. We'll have to trust our inside man is as dedicated to this as we are."

The van comes to a slow, rolling stop, and voices come from the outside. The men grip their rifles more tightly, clearly ready to unload fire if the back doors open for inspection. I hold my breath. The driver's voice reaches us, "Maintenance on the tunnel, take it up with the Mayor," and then there's only silence. I stare at a spot on the floor, grateful not to be in control. My hands would surely be trembling. Unkindness doesn't even blink.

We lurch forward again and everyone releases a collective breath. We've made it.

Three taps come at the doors and we all pile out into the empty subway tunnel. I shiver a little at the chill in the air, the sight of the tracks so close to where we are. Even though the subway runs infrequently now we've got the new railway system, it's still used for freight or some intercity transportation. And while this has been planned down to the second not to interfere with any trains, it's still unsettling to be loitering on tracks.

The men waste no time lugging metal pipes and discs from the van, attaching them to a specifically chosen patch of brick wall in the tunnel. Red lights flash and regular beeps come from the devices with curled wires erupting on all sides, orange and blue and black and green. I don't understand how these charges work. I don't need to.

"Thirty seconds," one of the men grunts, eyes fixed on his digital wristwatch. "Stand clear."

Staring at the blinking red lights, my stomach coils like the wires of the explosives. I take a moment to glance around me. Once, I would have abhorred the idea of working with villains. I refused to be dragged into the underworld of Gotham, to associate with criminals. Maybe some piece of me died and didn't come back with the rest. Or maybe I finally broke, finally caved to the insanity I've spent a lifetime fearing would eventually take me over. I lost my parents. Warren. Grandma. Now Jonathan and JJ. Harleen can't remember a thing that happened. Maybe everyone breaks when there's nothing left to lose.