Batman: The Killing Joke by Christa Faust

Author:Christa Faust [Faust, Christa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Titan
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

“Get cover,” somebody yelled as bullets flew everywhere.

One of the hoodlums holding a rifle unleashed a clutch of rounds. His body was held upright as he jerked spasmodically, then he collapsed, seemingly swallowed up in his heaped clothes.

The machine-gunner in the scarecrow mask opened the door and stepped out of the car, his gun rattling and the barrel smoking. The van pulled to a stop, blocking the loading dock entrance, and the side door slid open. Two more guys, also wearing scarecrow masks, jumped out. One brandished a shotgun, and the other had a .45 in each fist.

Mustang and Ashford took cover behind his truck.

The scarred man ducked behind an upright drill press. The machine gun’s rounds pinged off the industrial machine’s thick iron body. Without showing the slightest hint of alarm, he reached inside his windbreaker and produced a grenade. Pulling the pin he tossed it underhanded at his targets.

“Oh shi—”

Before the scarecrow could finish the device exploded directly to his right, where the Camaro was. The car’s gas-filled tank sparked and it went up in a loud blast of fire and flame. The guy was thrown through the air and his head struck an exposed steel beam in the doorway. He was dead before his body fell to the grease-stained concrete floor.

The passenger door of the Camaro went flying end over end through the air and careened off of the wall.

“Babe, we need to get out of here fast,” Ashford said. She looked through the loading dock doorway. The hulk of the Camaro was still on fire, and fuel burned and smoked in puddles on the ground near the remains. More scarecrows exited the van, also focused on the drug dealers. She noticed the driver’s door was open.

“I’ll get the van,” Mustang said. “You’ve got to get the other two bags.” In the confusion, the hood who’d been carrying the two bags of money had tossed them aside to shoot at the invaders.

He paused, frowning.

“Both of them, Brad,” she emphasized.

“Okay,” he said quickly. “Be careful.”

“You too.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and ran, thankful her boots had short heels. She held one of the gym bags full of Giggle Sniff. As the firefight continued, punctuated by cursing and a moan of pain, she reached the van.

The interior was like something out of one of those beach blanket movies she used to watch as a kid. There was shag carpeting, a bed in back with heart-shaped red pillow, and the seats up front covered in Naugahyde. Fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror, completing the cliché.

The engine was running and she slammed the van into gear. An errant round pierced the windshield, but missed her entirely. She backed the van up, tires squealing, clearing the exit and the burning vehicle. From overhead a beam of light pierced the darkness.

Oh, crap!

A loud, amplified voice filled the air from the GCPD patrol blimp.

“You down there, patrol cars and the fire department are on their way,” it boomed from the sky.

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