Okay, so. The Jokers wife just knocked on my door and asked me to track him down. And NOT Crazy Pants Quinn, who I'm guessing is getting into unhealthy relationships with her classmates at college somewhere, but his actual for-real wife, from before he got a very permanent dye job.
So, not my first choice of client. But hey, there's gotta be other people named Napier around, right? There's no reason to assume that this woman is actually THAT Napier. Even though she has the same first name and looks exactly as she did in that one Alan Moore story from before he started adding threesomes into everything he wrote....
...there's not even the slightest chance it's not her, is there?
Alright, so, this is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done!
"Well, come on in, Mrs. Napier. Better give me the full story."
I step back from the door and let her inside before I close it behind her, before leading her over to the desk. I can tell by the expression on her face that the rundown state of my "office" isn't filling her with confidence, but considering that she came all the way here to the asscrack of Gotham, my guess is that she's too desperate to be picky about interior decoration. She sits down in the rickety guest chair, and waits as I sit down on the other side of the desk, before I lean forward, both arms leaning on the tabletop.
"Okay, so, husband's missing, we covered that much. Why don't you tell me what made you come to me?"
Jeannie fidgets nervously, her fingers rubbing against the plain gold wedding ring on her other hand before she answers "It's... well, my husband, his name is Jack. Jack Napier. We've... we've been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, you see, and about a week ago, he started going out in the middle of the night, he'd be gone for hours, and when he did come home, he wouldn't tell me where he'd been going! He'd just change the subject, or plain not answer at all! Then, three days ago, he went out... and he hasn't come back yet..."
"Ma'm, I'm not sure it's my kind of help you need, it sounds like you might want to talk to the police. Or maybe a marriage counselor!"
"I know what it sounds like, but it's not like that! Jack... well, he's always had this dream, you see. He wanted to be a stand-up comedian, he loved going to those clubs and watching the acts, talking about how much he wanted to make people laugh just like those comedians. He finally decided to try, he even quit his job so he could put all his focus on his material, and... well..."
I sigh and lean back in my chair, making the worn leather creak "And let me guess, he bombed so hard it set off the sprinklers, right?"
"I-I never saw his act myself, but... I think so, yes. I've never seen him like that, he was so... defeated. I tried to be supportive, but I'm not sure it did much good..."
"Okay, so Mr. Napier flopped at stand-up, lifelong dream crushed, I can see why he'd be sad, but that can't be the only reason you're here."
She shakes his head "If it was only that, we might have been alright, but around that same time, I... found out I was pregnant."
Shit.
Holy shit, I'd actually forgotten that part of the story. It's coming back to me now, it wasn't just his wife dying before he took that plunge, it was his wife AND unborn child. Christ, no wonder he went Looney Tunes. "I'd offer my congratulations, but I can see why being unemployed would put a damper on the occasion. So, I'm guessing Mr. Napiers disappearing act has to do with your money troubles?"
Jeannie nods sadly "Yes, I... I overheard him talking on the phone once. I think he's fallen in with some bad people... See, he used to work at Ace Chemicals, he was part of the security, and I think someone wants him to help them break in..." She looks down at her lap, her hands clasped in worry "That's why I couldn't go to the police... Jack isn't a bad man, he's never done anything like this before, and... I'm so afraid something bad is going to happen to him." She sounds like she's on the verge of tears. Can't say I blame her.
"Look, Mrs. Napier, I can certainly try to find him, but you do realize there's no guarantee I'll find him, much less that he'll be unharmed if I do, right? I'm not a trained investigator, my skills come in the form of more... esoteric abilities. Even if I do find him, if he's already committed a crime..." I don't bother finishing the sentence, letting her fill in the blanks on her own. I don't have any intention of turning him in for anything less than a murder, but that doesn't mean there wouldn't still be consequences if he's already gone through with whatever he's planning.
She nods, her eyes still downcast "I don't know anything about this.... magic thing, I didn't even think it was real, but I don't know where else to turn. We don't have a lot of money to pay you, but I was thinking..." She pauses, and I notice she's fidgeting with the wedding ring on her right hand, like she's beginning to tug it off. Wait, is she... oh, come on, seriously? She's going to pay me with her goddamned WEDDING RING?
I groan inwardly. That's what I get for putting "jewelry" as one of the acceptable currencies on my sign.
"Mrs. Napier, just stop." She looks up, surprised "I'm not accepting your ring as payment. You got a dollar?"
"I- well, yes, but-"
"Then that'll suffice, I wasn't expecting much of a cash flow this early on, the payment is mostly symbolic anyway, I don't want people coming in here expecting freebies out of the goodness of my heart. Just... make sure to tell your friends, alright? But leave out the part where I only charged you a buck."
"Oh, I... um, thank you! Does that mean you'll find Jack?!"
"I'll try certainly, but again, there's no guarantees. Just leave me your number, and I'll get in contact with you if I find anything." She hastily scribbles down a phone number on the legal pad I hand her before getting out of the chair. As I'm walking her to the door, I suddenly come to a stop, as something else from The Killing Joke comes back to me, and I put one hand on her arm, drawing her attention back to me. "Actually, come to think of it, I want you to stay with a friend or a relative until you hear from me next time. If your husbands gotten himself involved with the type of people I think he has, they won't like him trying to bail on the plan, and I don't want them to come looking for someone to use as collateral..."
....
It took a little convincing, but Jeannie had finally agreed to spend a few nights at her mothers house, just to get her out of harms way, and to be on the safe side, I'd placed a temporary protection spell over her without her notice, nothing fancy, but it would keep her injury-free for the next couple of days at least. Of course, I didn't really expect any of the gang members to go after her, but what I did expect was the tragic death of both her and her unborn child in a household accident, since that's exactly what happened in Moore's story, which put Jack right on the knife's edge. His extreme makeover was really just the straw that broke the camels back.
Once I'd seen Jeannie off at the front door, I went back to my desk to begin my preparations. A map of Gotham City is nailed to the back wall, stuck to the fading wallpaper with thumbtacks. Ace Chemicals is clearly marked, but I don't think Jack or the gang will be anywhere near there yet, if the heist is even happening today, it won't be until nightfall. So, the issue will be to pinpoint exactly where they're holed up until then. But first, I have some experiments to finish.
On top of the desk lies the brass knuckles I took off one of the muggers last night, and it's going to be the foundation for a magic weapon that's going to give me some much-needed muscle power. See, my strength spell is all well and good for combat, but it's still cast on top of a foundation of flesh and bone. Breaking bones and tanking bullets is one thing, but I simply don't have the mass to do anything really heavy duty with just my bare hands. If I tried to punch through a wall Superman-style, I'd just bounce off, even if my protection spell kept me from hurting myself. At most, I might crack the bricks a little. With the spell I'm putting on these brass knuckles though... there won't be a lot of barriers that can keep me out.
One hand hovers above the metal knuckles on the desk as I close my eyes... and focus... There's a rattling noise as the knuckles begin to shiver, the energies flowing through my fingers and into the weapon. I take a deep breath.
"Wrecker!"
There's a final burst of power, the knuckles flash for a second, and then lie still. I pick them up, sliding them over the fingers on my right hand, and close it into a fist.
It worked. I can feel the power of the spell pulsing within the metal. Wrecker might not be as versatile as my Strength spell, but it doesn't need to be. It's effectively a wrecking ball in pocket form, laws of physics be damned. Anything less than a steel vault door isn't going to keep me out with these. Even then, they're going to leave some very notable dents.
I slip the knuckles off my fingers and into the pocket of my jeans, before rising from my chair and turning back towards the map. Even without scrying, I can make some pretty decent guesses to where the gang won't be holed up. There's no reason for them to be in the affluent parts of the city, and they won't be near Ace Chemicals itself, so that leaves out most of the industrial district too. Same thing with Robinson Park, and I'm fairly certain they're not out around Arkham Asylum either. Still, that doesn't cross all that much of Gotham off the list, and there's plenty of dark corners left to hide in...
Where are you, Jack Napier