Gotham Rises

...Gotham is now truly the kingdom of crime...

Under Bane's reign of terror, every route out of the city has been sealed off, and a plague he unleashed is claiming hundreds of lives each day. Six months ago, the President declared a quarantine, and the military was authorized to shoot anyone attempting to enter or leave the city. The world has decided to sacrifice Gotham's 15 million residents to save humanity.

The city boils in chaos.

With shortages of all essential supplies and death looming, the evil within every person is fully revealed. It’s easy to witness former intellectuals now unashamedly becoming thieves. Children chase and kill each other on the streets. The corpses of the elderly are strewn across alleys as people can no longer afford to care for them. Gangs are sprouting up like mushrooms after the rain. The power grid has been completely shut down, and people attack wealthy families, chopping up furniture and burning dollar bills for warmth. The rich are dragged before hastily formed courts where they are quickly condemned and executed just as swiftly. Harvey Dent – The Two-Face – has once again become Gotham’s prosecutor, bringing justice through the flip of a coin. A brutal form of fairness that no one can resist.

The homeless who once wandered the streets feel that some semblance of justice is being established in Gotham, albeit under the rule of madmen. And so, they fade into the darkness, bowing down to become servants of crime lords under the guise of equality.

Yet, there are still many who believe that, despite all its past injustices, the old Gotham was truly the place worth living in.

Since the day Bane appeared, Batman has not been seen on Gotham's rooftops. Rumors say that Bane killed Batman in a fight where the Dark Knight had no chance; others claim that Batman was only beaten to the point of a broken spine and imprisoned in the Pit – the Prison with No Escape – a place from which no one has ever escaped.

Is Batman still alive? Hope cannot be extinguished.

Every day, Gordon told himself the same thing. His life had seen countless insane challenges, but this was truly hell. Each day, he and his officers had to flee from the relentless pursuit of criminals, sometimes even from ordinary citizens. On the other hand, if they were fortunate enough to gather a modest force, Gordon would lead them to suppress a few gangs before nightfall, after which they would disperse to find shelter.

"That symbol again." The young officer gestured toward Gotham Central, where the Bat-Signal once stood.

In the early days of the chaos, Gordon stood there every night, hoping Batman would appear as he had countless times before. But no, the Commissioner nearly went mad. Feeling more desperate than ever, he smashed the signal. Gotham Central was now under the Joker’s control. The madman had created a new signal, projecting a giant, grinning mouth into the Gotham sky every night. It hovered in the mist, like the Cheshire Cat’s grin, casting a sinister smile over a city without a future.

That image kept Gordon awake for many nights. He saw the Joker mocking him, dancing over the limp body of his daughter, Barbara. Yet, he hadn’t killed him. How many times had he and Batman faced off and defeated him, and still, not a single stray bullet or accidental mishap had ended the life of that deranged lunatic. Many times, Gordon had secretly wished that amidst this crisis, he could just shoot him. Accidentally. And no one would be able to blame him for it. Even if that were to be the day order was finally restored.

"Gordon, look what we found."

The call interrupted the old lieutenant's thoughts. The man running over was Tommy, a former police officer. He handed Gordon a test tube filled with a thick, purple liquid.

"A pure sample of the plague. Our men stole it from one of Bane's cold storage rooms. We could take it for analysis and create an antidote."

"What am I supposed to do with it, Tommy?" Gordon sighed. "There aren't any scientists left in Gotham. Wasn't the last one beheaded just last week?"

"I don't know, Gordon. But didn't you always say we have to hold on to hope? So let's keep going. Hold on to it. We might find some use for it. Who knows... if he comes back..."

"Who knows..."

"Oh, and one more thing. Tonight, there’s going to be a gang war at the docks. Joker’s gang and Scarecrow’s. That means the Joker will be alone at Gotham Central. All alone."

A glint of light flashed in Gordon's eyes.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely. I’ve had people keeping an eye on Gotham Central for days now."

"Good. Call everyone you can reach. Tonight, we finish this."

Now, what to do? The Joker is a cunning devil. Would he just sit there and wait for the GCPD to come and cuff him? He needed a plan. Gordon might not understand the Joker as well as Batman did, but he knew enough to grasp how dangerous he was.

Spreading the map of Gotham Central on the cold ground, Gordon showed the other officers a secret route. It was the path Batman used to access the building’s rooftop, appearing and vanishing in a comically abrupt manner before Gordon could even finish his sentences. With this, they would have the element of surprise, take down the Joker, and once again take control of Gotham Central. Gordon had made up his mind; they couldn’t keep running. The GCPD might not be as strong as it once was, but they could still create a force of their own, one that could balance the power against the other gangs. Taking back Gotham Central would be the first step in reclaiming control over the city.

Standing at a junction of the large underground sewer system, Gordon had managed to gather 70 special forces officers. Not a lot for a dangerous mission with a target like the Joker.

“Alright, everyone, in a few minutes, we’ll be facing the most dangerous enemy of our lives: the Joker. A deranged, incurable psychopath. I can’t promise that we’ll succeed where the Bat Family has tried thousands of times. But as police officers, we must fulfill our duty. Batman is no longer here, but his spirit remains. For years, he has been a powerful inspiration for the GCPD, and now it’s time for us to face the storm. Not alone, but together. I hope we can do this. I truly hope.”

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the officers, and Gordon felt a sense of comfort in his heart. He had to stop thinking about Batman; he needed to let the GCPD stand on its own feet in a world without Batman.

The violin’s melody was shrill and piercing. The Joker was playing the most deranged notes.

In the dim corridor, Officer Martin was dragged into the darkness...

The sound was deep, very deep. Heavy like a mountain. The instrument echoed with a bass that resembled the sound of hundreds of bodies collapsing.

Jimmy, a senior officer of the GCPD, fell to his knees, clutching his blood-soaked throat. He could only scream in silence before collapsing.

The pitch grew higher, shrieking like the screams of people facing agonizing death that tore through their souls.

Dozens of strong men dropped to the ground. To them, death was anything but fair...

The violin played on, endlessly. Deep and haunting.

Harry, the traffic cop, slowly faded into the darkness. His consciousness slipped away, yet he could still hear his own laughter, ceaseless and eerie. Why was he laughing? Laughing at the contradictions and absurdities of life?

Laughter merged with the music, haunting and brutal. Was it resignation or defiance? Justice or injustice?

The violin’s tune became urgent, urging people to move forward, urging them to make decisions.

Barry laughed, not because of the Joker’s poison gas, but simply out of pure despair. He knew his fate was sealed. He was the last member of Alpha Squad, climbing up to the sixth floor. He recalled his mother’s mocking laughter from over a decade ago: “In Gotham, you can never make a name for yourself.” Barry put the gun barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Gordon kicked open the rooftop door and fired a shot. The violin music stopped instantly.

Silence enveloped the space. The Joker lay on the ground, shot in the hip.

Suddenly, he laughed, the sound shattering the stillness. Gordon flinched, as if snapped back to reality.

"Well, well, old man, that was some perfect timing. I was just about to wrap up right there for a dramatic effect for the audience."

"Joker, you’re under arrest."

"Just arresting me? You really are an old fool. Not going to kill me?"

Gordon cautiously approached the Joker. His left hand pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Gordon, take it slow, so I can tell a story. You know, a clown's job isn’t just to make people laugh, but also to be a storyteller, right?"

"Shut up. Your laugh, your stories. I’m sick of it."

Gordon punched the pale face he hated with all his strength, releasing years of pent-up rage. He couldn’t count how many punches he threw or how many times he cursed him. Meanwhile, the Joker kept screaming about police brutality.

"You! Do you remember how you tortured me? You shot Barbara. Left her paralyzed. Just tonight, you killed 70 police officers. You bastard."

"Wait! Wait!"

Smack.

"Gordon, you old man…"

Smack.

"Stop it…"

Smack.

"I just want to say… one thing."

Gordon kept his arm raised in the air, panting heavily, ready to unleash another wave of fury.

"Hahaha… You shot me in the hip. Now, I’ll never run and play with my dear Batsy again. That is, if he's still alive. I hope he is... Hahahaha… Back to the point. You shot me in the hip, probably shattered my kneecap, you know that? I won’t be able to walk anymore. Isn’t it ironic, old man? Your daughter… the librarian… what was her name… Barbara, you mentioned her earlier. I shot her, left her paralyzed. Haha. And now, you shoot me, leaving me paralyzed..."

Another beating, and Gordon's hands were covered in blood. It seemed like he could crush the Joker's face completely. The white makeup had turned a dark red. He couldn’t let him die that easily. No, not that easily. He had to do something. Ah. He had the vial. Bane’s vial.

“What’s that, old man? ... Don't tell me... hey... hey... you're not going to make me drink that crap, are you? You're not a doctor. I have my own doctor. And he didn't prescribe anything for today.”

Gordon poured the vial into the Joker's open mouth. But a sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. No. He had gone far enough tonight with this vigilante justice. He wasn’t a criminal. Too late. He had already poured the entire contents of the vial into the Joker's mouth. The Joker was going to die. Punished by Bane’s plague.

“Aaaaaaaa! Gordon, what did you make me drink? You’ve killed me. It hurts! It’s tearing my mind and heart apart. Ha ha ha.”

The Joker let out a long laugh. His laughter grew quieter until it finally stopped. Gordon stood up, dazed. He had made a grave mistake. His mind was in chaos. He knelt back down and placed his fingers on the Joker's neck to check for a pulse.

Suddenly, the Joker's body tensed up, his eyes bulging, and he burst out laughing.

"Ga ha ha ha ha... Got you, old man."

Gordon's heart skipped a beat.

"You think the Joker dies that easily? You think it's so easy to get something from Bane? Ha ha ha. Old Gordon, you fool. Lêu lêu! You've been tricked by Bane. The fake poison can’t even kill an ant. Hahaha."

Gordon laughed until tears rolled down his face. He raised his hand and punched hard. The Joker passed out. Never before had he felt such relief. Killing isn’t easy. Killing isn’t easy.

What to do next? From this moment, Gotham Central was back under GCPD’s control. How could he call back the officers still in hiding? How could he reach them? He had an idea.

Taking off his coat, Gordon draped it over the giant spotlight. He chuckled softly, realizing he was doing something similar to the very first time the Bat-Signal was projected into the Gotham sky when Batman had tied up Carmine Falcone on the spotlight. That was so long ago. So very long ago. And Batman had gone far away, with no sign of when he might return.

Pulling the switch, the Bat-Signal shone once more, heralding a new chapter for the ravaged Gotham.

Suddenly, a light breath brushed against the back of Gordon’s neck. A familiar, deep voice emerged from the void:

“You called for me?”