The LEGO Batman Movie Junior Novel

by Jeanette Lane

  “You literally have me eating out of the palm of your curved hand,” Bruce murmured.

  The audience was on board, too. They listened closely. This new commissioner had a lot to say!

  “I’ve got a four-point pilot program that I’d love to share with you,” said Barbara Gordon.

  “I want to hear all four points,” Bruce admitted.

  “It’s called … ,” Barbara set up her plan, “it takes a village …”

  “Great start … I am ready,” Batman said, quietly cheering her on.

  “… not a Batman,” Barbara finished.

  “Terrible ending,” Bruce grumbled, annoyed by this sudden turn in events.

  “Look, Batman’s been on the job for a very, very, very, very, very, very long time,” Barbara tried to explain. “However, in spite of having a full-time Batman, Gotham City is still the most crime-ridden city in the world.”

  The audience—unlike Bruce Wayne—was still in total agreement with the new commissioner. They mumbled about how she was right and how, historically speaking, it was true that Batman had not been entirely effective.

  “He hasn’t captured the Riddler. He hasn’t captured Bane. Or Catwoman, or Two-Face, or any of Gotham City’s other villains,” Barbara went on.

  “You know, she’s right!” an audience member murmured.

  “Huh,” said another.

  “She’s making a lot of sense,” said a third. “Batman’s not good at his job …”

  “And that includes the Joker,” Barbara said.

  “We love you, Barbara!” the audience cried.

  Bruce Wayne couldn’t take it anymore. “Um, hi there. Excuse me? I’m so sorry,” he said as he made his way through the crowd. “Excuse me,” he asserted as he climbed up to the stage and approached the podium. “Ahem. Ahem. AHEM.”

  “Yes?” Barbara prompted.

  “Hi. Bruce Wayne,” he said, standing up ridiculously straight. “Billionaire, bon vivant, Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor, like, ninety years in a row.”

  “I know who you are, Mr. Wayne,” the new commissioner assured him.

  “You bet you do. Quick questch,” Bruce said, shortening the word question for no apparent reason. “What’s your problem with Batman?” He glared at Barbara Gordon with his intense, brooding eyes.

  “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Wayne. I’m not a Batman hater,” Barbara Gordon explained, “but we don’t need an unsupervised, adult man in a Halloween costume karate chopping poor people. We need to take what’s good about Batman and marry it to actual laws and proper ethics and accountability.”

  “I hate everything you just said,” Bruce growled.

  “Because my dream is for the police force … ,” Barbara began, ignoring Bruce and looking out at the audience, “to team up with Batman.”

  “No!” Bruce yelled.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t that be better?” Barbara asked. She clicked a button, and a picture of her and Batman appeared on the screen. Its caption read BARBARA AND BATMAN WORKING SIDE BY SIDE. The picture had obviously been doctored.

  “No!” Bruce insisted. “Those are all things I hate.”

  “And I know that, together, the World’s Greatest Detective and Gotham City’s Finest could clean up these crime-ridden streets … forever!”

  The crowd stared at Barbara, dumbfounded.

  “Because, as I always say—” Barbara began, but she stopped abruptly. A large number of ice-cream trucks were surrounding the gala.

  Bruce had noticed the trucks, too. Something about those ice-cream trucks was very, very wrong.

  Pizza, pizza, let’s have a pizza ice cream … sang the truck jingle.

  “EVERYBODY GET DOWN!” Barbara and Bruce yelled at the same time.

  Heavily armed clowns began pouring out of the trucks.

  BOOM! An explosion ripped a hole in the wall.

  A moment later, the Joker emerged through the smoke. “Grand entrance!”

  The gala turned into absolute chaos as the Joker’s Rogues invaded.

  “Everyone, make your way to the exits

  immediately,” Barbara ordered the audience.

  “Ahhh!” screamed various audience members.

  “I don’t know where the exits are!” screamed others.

  Croc hurried to the main exit. “I’m blocking!” he crowed.

  “Rogues Two, bring me the mayor!” the Joker barked into his walkie-talkie.

  “We’re on it,” came a staticky growl in reply.

  “Ten-four!” cried Kite Man.

  “And, Harley Quinn, you know what to do,” the Joker went on.

  “I sure do, sugarplum,” she responded and dashed off, away from the crowd.

  Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne had forced his way through the crowd and over to the emergency exit. He raced up the fire escape, checking his PROXIMITY INDICATOR WATCH as he took the stairs two at a time. “Butler One!” he said into his comm link. “This is Bat One! Do you copy?”

  “Go ahead, Bat One,” came Alfred’s voice from the high-tech watch. The good butler was still in the limo, parked just outside the gala. He was busy reading a pamphlet titled “Setting Limits on Your Out-of-Control Child.”

  “I need my cowl, NOW!” Bruce cried.

  “Only if you say the magic word,” Alfred replied calmly.

  Bruce gritted his teeth. “Alfred, I don’t have time for magic words.”

  Alfred sighed. “Okay, sir. We’ll talk about that back at the Batcave.” He punched a button on the limo’s console.

  Bruce leaped off the roof just in time for his cowl to fall over his head. Instantly, he was suiting up, transforming into Batman. He threw out a grappling hook.

  “Computer, initialize MasterBuild music!” he called. “I need to take out multiple targets with minimal damage. Hopefully.”

  “May I suggest the Scuttler, sir?” Computer replied.

  “Perfect,” said Batman. He began Master-Building one of his favorite vehicles.

  Meanwhile, back inside the gala, Barbara was determined to protect the mayor from the Joker and his Rogues.

  “Madam Mayor, stay close to me,” she said, pulling the mayor to safety behind the podium.

  Mr. Freeze and Clayface aimed their weapons at Mayor McCaskill and the new commissioner.

  “We’re pinned down!” Barbara called into her walkie-talkie. She turned to the mayor. “On my signal, head for the south exit.”

  She and the mayor stood up and started racing through the crowd. Rogues attacked them as they hurried along, but Barbara was undeterred. She threw punches and kicks, jabbing with her elbows and even using some of Clayface’s mud to blind her opponents.

  Slowly but surely, Barbara made her way to the Joker. “Chief O’Hara, extraction protocol,” she said into her walkie. “We’re coming in hot!”

  She and the mayor made their way through a small flock of penguins, finally reaching an exit.

  Barbara kicked the door down. Chief O’Hara was waiting on the other side with backup.

  “Chief, get the mayor to safety,” Barbara panted.

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the chief.

  Now that the mayor was safe, Barbara turned her attention back to the Joker. She narrowed her eyes. “Team, I’ve got the Joker in my sights,” she said into her walkie-talkie. She began striding toward the Joker, who was too busy enjoying the mayhem he’d created to notice her approach.

  But just before Barbara reached him—

  “OH YEAHHHHH!” cried Batman, bursting through the wall in the Scuttler. It was an awesome machine with legs instead of wheels—good for climbing stairs, walls, and ceilings—and all kinds of other features.

  The Scuttler landed right in between the Joker and Barbara. Its hulking feet just missed the new commissioner.

  “Joker!” cried Batman.

  “Um, excuse me?” Barbara said. “I was just about to—”

  “Push the Bat-Signal?” Batman cut her off. “Good call. I like your instincts.”

&nbs
p; He stomped his Scuttler past Barbara and towered over the Joker.

  “Oh, Batman’s here,” the Joker practically sang. He had Rogues crowded all around him. “Wonderful!” His voice commanded attention. He made a sweeping circle, grinning at the crowd. “I’ve got a surprise for you guys, and it’s going to make you SMILE.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Batman. “His smile is our grimace! Everyone, get down!”

  “I …” the Joker began.

  “Joker, no!” cried Barbara.

  “… surrender,” the Joker finished. He held his hands, revealing that they were in handcuffs!

  “What?” said Barbara.

  “What?” said the crowd. “What did he say?”

  “Uh, what did you just say?” Batman asked.

  “I said, I surrender,” the Joker repeated.

  “I’m sorry, my Bat-ears must be malfunctioning because it sounds like you’re saying—”

  “I surrender,” the Joker said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how much more clearly or melodramatically I can say it.”

  “Okay, you know what? Cool it,” Batman said. “You’re a criminal. You run, and I catch you. It’s kind of how this thing goes.”

  “Ah, bop, bop, bop,” the Joker said. “Not anymore, Batman! You were right, there is no ‘us.’ So there’s no point in me trying to fight you anymore. This relationship doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

  There was a long silence as Batman and the Joker stared at each other.

  “Ohhh, I get it,” said Batman at last. “You’re up to something.”

  “I am not up to anything,” the Joker said calmly. “I just want to go to Arkham Asylum for all my crimes.” He blinked innocently.

  “I don’t believe you for a minute,” said Batman, shaking his head.

  “Okay, Batman,” said Barbara. “We’ll take it from here.”

  “Take what from here?” asked Batman. “None of it is real.”

  “Oh yes, it is!” said the Joker. “We’re all surrendering, right, guys?”

  “YEAH!!!” cried the Rogues.

  “All right, listen up!” Barbara hollered. “All of you have the right to remain silent.”

  “Yeah!!” cried Bane.

  “Meow, meow!” cheered Catwoman.

  “Awesome,” said Man-Bat.

  “We’re going to jail!” said Clayface.

  Outside the ballroom, a reporter was broadcasting live. “This just in. The Joker and the Rogues have just arrested themselves.”

  Barbara led the Rogues out to a giant van with barred windows. As they followed her, they chanted happily, “We’re going to jail! We’re going to jail!”

  Barbara pushed the Joker into the backseat of the van.

  “Thank you!” the Joker said cheerfully.

  Batman hurried to the other side of the car and pulled the Joker out of the opposite door. “Yeah, watch your head, Joker!”

  “Ow! Batman!” the Joker scolded him, rubbing his head.

  “Excuse me, what are you doing?” Barbara inquired.

  “I’m Batman-ing,” Batman explained.

  “That’s … not a thing,” said Barbara, folding her arms.

  “Yeah it is,” said Batman. “This is the part where you chill out and wait for me to come back with a few clues while I take the Joker back to the Batcave for a little conversation.”

  “You’re not taking the Joker anywhere,” Barbara said firmly. “I’m in charge now. Barbara Gordon, new police commissioner. Nice to meet you.”

  Batman grinned. “Hey, girl.”

  “We’re going to change the way we do things around here,” said Barbara. “We’re going to do the right thing and take the Joker to Arkham Asylum for questioning … together.”

  “Together,” Batman repeated.

  “Yeah, together,” said Barbara Gordon.

  “Oh, I get what you’re saying,” Batman replied, nodding his head.

  “Great,” Barbara said.

  “Wink,” said Batman, giving her his coyest wink.

  “Wink?” Barbara replied, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” said Batman. “You have a crush on me, don’t you?”

  “Not even remotely.” Barbara looked Batman in the eye.

  Batman chuckled. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

  Barbara sighed. “Listen. You have a history and a relationship with the Joker that’s valuable.”

  “Oh, does he?” asked the Joker, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Batman told Barbara.

  Barbara went on as if Batman and the Joker hadn’t interrupted her. “So follow me to Arkham Asylum, and we can BOTH interrogate him so we can save the city and get the bad guy. What do you say, Batman?” She extended a hand to him. “Will you work with me?”

  “NO!” Batman snapped. “The Joker wants to go to Arkham Asylum. That’s the last place he should want to go. Unless—ding, ding, ding, ding—he’s got some big plan.”

  As Batman and Barbara bickered, Harley Quinn snuck through the crowd around them. She popped off her pigtails and popped on a new hairpiece and a pair of glasses. Then she emerged at Barbara’s side.

  “What if you put him in the Phantom Zone?” Harley Quinn asked, trying to sound like an innocent bystander.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Batman asked, surprised.

  “The Phantom Zone,” Harley Quinn–in–disguise repeated.

  “The Phantom Zone! That’s a great idea,” Batman declared.

  “You’re welcome, Batman,” said Harley. “I’m just a concerned citizen.” She winked at the Joker and melted back into the crowd.

  “You bet you are,” replied Batman, not really thinking of anything but his new plan.

  “Wait! If we put him in the Phantom Zone, then we’ll DEFINITELY never figure out what his plan is,” Barbara objected.

  “Yeah, but then he’ll be locked up for good, so problemo solvedo,” said Batman dismissively. He yanked Joker out of the prison van again. “Come on, Joker!”

  “Batman, what are you doing? Seriously?” she yelled. “Batman, put the Joker down!”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “No!”

  “Officers!” Barbara commanded the police officers to stop Batman.

  The officers moved in, surrounding the Caped Crusader.

  “Smoke bomb!” Batman cried. He threw a smoke bomb into the air.

  When the dust cleared, Batman was gone.

  Fuming! Batman was fuming! And it wasn’t from the smoke bomb he’d used to escape the scene with Barbara Gordon.

  No, Batman was fuming mad! He was fuming mad because Barbara Gordon had refused to let him deal with the Joker on his own terms.

  Who did she think she was? Did she think it was her job to make decisions about how criminals should be punished? Geez, the new police commissioner had a lot of nerve.

  But thanks to the concerned citizen at the scene, Batman knew what to do with the Joker. He needed to send that green-haired bad guy to the Phantom Zone.

  Now, Batman didn’t know very much about the Phantom Zone. The Phantom Zone was another dimension. It wasn’t a place on Earth at all. It was like a cosmic prison out in space.

  Even though Batman was sure about his plan, he had no idea how to send someone to this otherworldly place. Luckily, Batman had a supersmart Computer to do his research for him.

  The moment Batman returned to the Batcave, he called, “Computer! How do I put the Joker in the Phantom Zone? I need the quickest route, no freeways.”

  Batman waited for a moment. But Computer did not reply.

  “Computer, do you hear me?” he demanded.

  Batman was so preoccupied with his new mission, he didn’t notice that Alfred was sitting right behind him.

  “Hello, Master Bruce,” his butler greeted him.

  “Alfred, there’s something wrong with Computer. Watch this: Computer!”

  When nothing happened, Bat
man tried again, louder this time. “See? Nothing! Computer!”

  Again, the typically prompt Computer failed to respond.

  “You see what I’m saying?” Batman said to Alfred.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, sir,” Alfred tried to reassure Batman. “I’ve just taken away your computer privileges.” He pointed to Computer’s screen, which was frozen by a parental lock.

  Batman’s jaw dropped. “The parental lock? You can’t do that,” he declared.

  “Oh, I can,” Alfred said with certainty. “I’ve been reading ‘Setting Limits on Your Out-of-Control Child.’”

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter because I have a double-secret, super-password that unlocks the parental lock.” Batman had a smug smile on his face.

  “You mean ‘thejoker_stinks’?” Alfred wondered.

  Gasp! Batman’s smug smile disappeared.

  “I changed it,” said Alfred.

  “Come on, Alfred,” Batman pleaded. “I need to stop the Joker. How am I supposed to do that without Computer?”

  “Sir, it’s time for you to stop this unhealthy behavior.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You need to take responsibility for your life,” Alfred tried to explain.

  “Not right now, I don’t.” Batman scowled for emphasis. He wasn’t in the mood to be responsible, not in the way Alfred meant.

  “And it starts by raising your son.” Alfred looked Batman in the eye.

  There was a pause. A very long pause.

  “I’m sorry,” Batman replied at last. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The young orphan you adopted at the gala, remember?” Alfred motioned to a video monitor, which showed a boy running through the halls of Wayne Manor. It was Dick Grayson, the awkward kid from the orphanage—the same one who had asked Bruce Wayne endless questions about top strategies for getting adopted.

  Right now, Dick was singing a rendition of an R & B tune. He had a sweet voice but was somewhat off-key.

  “Do you remember, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

  “I adopted a kid at the gala?” Batman mumbled with disbelief. “I thought I was being sarcastic.” He looked at the screen again.

  Now the kid was sliding down the grand entrance hall’s well-polished bannisters.

  “Whee!” Dick exclaimed as he dismounted. “Hello, suit of armor,” he greeted the empty metal suit. “En garde!” Dick pantomimed swordplay, unaware that anyone was watching him.