The LEGO Batman Movie Junior Novel Read online

  The Joker strode toward the mayor, a grin plastered on his face. “Madam Mayor, thanks for dropping by.”

  “I’ve got only one thing to say to you, Joker,” the mayor began, her voice muffled. She was staring at the ground.

  “Well, you’d better make it fast,” replied the Joker, pointing to his watch as a handy reminder for the mayor that nearby, there was a bomb with a timer on it.

  “Do you ever play roulette?” the mayor asked in a low voice.

  “On occasion” was the Joker’s response.

  “Well, let me give you a word of advice,” said the mayor.

  “I’m all ears,” replied the Joker.

  “When playing roulette …”

  The mayor paused. When she looked up at the Joker, he realized something.

  Batman was on the scene! Somehow, he had snuck in behind the mayor.

  Batman stepped out from behind the mayor and leaped high in the air.

  “Always bet on BLACK!” he declared.

  BATMAN?!?” the Joker cried. “What are you doing? You’re completely outnumbered here. Are you nuts?”

  “You wanna get nuts?” Batman yelled. “Come on. Let’s get nuts!”

  “Get him!” the Joker cried to his henchmen.

  The Joker’s many Rogues and henchmen descended on Batman. With a POW and a SMASH and a SLAM, Batman battled them all. He whirlwind-kicked and power-punched and karate-kicked and counterpunched. He threw a few Batarangs and took out twenty bad guys in one fell swoop.

  Two-Face fired rounds at Batman from his souped-up bulldozer, but Batman battled back with Batarangs. “In your Face-es,” Batman cried.

  The Riddler aimed his car right at Batman, calling, “Riddle me this, Batman! When is—”

  Batman didn’t wait to hear the rest of the riddle. He snatched Harley Quinn’s mallet and threw it at the Riddler’s vehicle. The long handle of the mallet landed in a tire, flipping the car in the air.

  “Punch line,” quipped Batman.

  “Don’t attack him one at a time,” the Joker hollered. The Rogues needed a different strategy if they had any chance of defeating Batman.

  “Computer,” Batman called into the comm link on his wrist. “Overcompensate!”

  “I’m on my way, sir,” Computer responded.

  Within seconds, the Batmobile exploded through a wall.

  “Kaboom,” said Computer.

  “Yeah!” cheered Batman. “Computer! Where’s the bomb?”

  After a quick scan of the facility, Computer said, “The bomb is located at the base of the energy core.”

  “Come on, guys, fight dirty!” the Joker half demanded, half begged. He had worked too hard on this plan for it to fail already. “Clayface, literally throw dirt in his eyes!”

  Clayface did just that, briefly blinding Batman, but the Caped Crusader still fought with precision and might.

  A full-on blast from Clayface landed Batman on his knees. When he looked up, he was face-to-face with a horde of penguins. They were eyeing him with their little round, yellow eyes.

  “Penguins,” Batman muttered. “My least favorite movie animal.” Batman tried to shoo the birds away. Then he leaped into the Batmobile, which quickly converted into a jet known as Black Thunder. It rose into the air and sped toward the main building of the energy plant.

  Mr. Freeze shot ice rays at the aircraft, and Black Thunder plummeted to the ground. It skidded into a large hangar.

  Batman threw a Batarang to the power plant’s ceiling, but Poison Ivy was already in position. As soon as he landed on the catwalk, Poison Ivy had him tangled in her vines.

  “Kiss me, Batman!” Poison Ivy taunted him.

  Batman knew just one smooch from the toxic villain could mean certain death! He quickly grabbed a penguin and used it as a shield.

  Batman felt a cool draft. He glanced over his shoulder. It was Mr. Freeze! Again!

  There were too many Rogues and only one Batman—and one very big bomb. “Computer, I need a little firepower!” Batman called out.

  A large, fiery vehicle burst into the energy core room and scorched Mr. Freeze with its flaming jets. Next, it cut the thorny ties of Poison Ivy’s vines.

  Batman leaped from the catwalk and landed on the main floor with his cape fluttering behind him. He wasn’t surprised to find a ton of new bad guys waiting for him. Batman knocked out all of them, but he still hadn’t gotten closer to the Joker bomb.

  “How is he beating all of you AGAIN?” the Joker wondered.

  The Caped Crusader had an answer: “’Cuz I’m Batmaaaaaaaaaaan!”

  “Everybody run!” cried Harley Quinn.

  The Joker had heard enough. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel of his car and headed straight for Batman.

  Batman grabbed onto the hood of the speeding car and held on for dear life.

  “Hi, Batman,” the Joker yelled into a bullhorn. “So weird to keep running into you!” He giggled as he aimed his car for a concrete wall.

  WHACK! The Joker bailed out of the vehicle as it burst into flames. Meanwhile, Batman had gracefully leaped out of the car’s way.

  “Looks like your plan failed,” Batman said.

  “Well, it’s only a matter of time before I take over Gotham City,” the Joker claimed as he pulled out his weapon.

  Batman took cover behind a pile of rubble. “When has that ever happened?” he asked the Joker. He spoke into his comm link. “Computer?”

  “Calculating … never,” answered Computer.

  Popping up from behind the rubble heap, Batman threw a Batarang and tripped the Joker. “You know why?” Batman prompted, feeling smug. “Because I’m always one step ahead of you.”

  The Joker threw a mini bomb that exploded with a bang. “And I always get away!” There was a cloud of fumes, and the Joker’s voice seemed to fade.

  When the smoke lifted, the Joker was floating away on a balloon.

  “Not this time,” Batman grumbled. He rushed forward and leaped up to grab the Joker’s hand. “Because this time, I got you—”

  “Oh yeah?” The Joker sounded amused. “Well, there’s only one problem: Who’s gonna defuse the bomb?”

  Batman hung on to the Joker as the balloon rose higher and drifted over the plant’s energy core. At last, Batman spied the bomb. With curly wires and a big red ticker, it was much larger than the one the Joker had used moments before. It was certain to set off a chain reaction. If it ignited, it could blow the whole plant sky-high.

  The bomb ticked down. Only seconds remained.

  “It’s gotta be one or the other, Batman,” the Joker pointed out triumphantly. “Save the city or catch your greatest enemy.” He grinned. “You can’t do both.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Batman asked.

  “I said, ‘You can’t do both,’” repeated the Joker.

  “No, I mean the other thing.”

  “Save the city or catch your greatest enemy?” the Joker tried again.

  “Enemy,” Batman said the word slowly, thoughtfully.

  “Yeah.”

  “You think you’re my greatest enemy?” Batman asked the Joker, his voice drenched with disbelief.

  “YES! Who else do you have an intense, cool, psychological relationship with?” the Joker demanded.

  “Bane,” replied Batman without much thought. Batman liked to battle with Bane.

  “No, you don’t,” replied the Joker, sounding insulted.

  “Superman,” offered Batman.

  “Superman’s not a bad guy,” the Joker protested.

  “If it’s not Superman, then I’d say that I don’t currently have a bad guy,” Batman concluded. “I am fighting a few different people.”

  “What?” the Joker asked incredulously.

  “I like to spread the pain around,” Batman explained, shrugging.

  “Okay, look,” the Joker continued. “I’m fine with you fighting other people if you want to do that, but what we have? This is special. So w
hen people ask you who’s your number-one bad guy, you say …”

  “Superman.”

  “Are you seriously saying that there is nothing—NOTHING—special about us?”

  “Let me tell you something, J-Bird,” Batman began, “there is no ‘us.’ Never has been; never will be. You’re a clown who means nothing to me.”

  Despite the smile smeared across his face, the Joker looked like he was in pain.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Batman said, glancing at the intense drop to the ground, “I’ve got to defuse that bomb.”

  Batman let go of the Joker, and the green-haired bad guy floated sadly away.

  Batman plunged down to the energy plant and got to work deactivating the bomb. It was no sweat.

  “Batman! You did it!” Commissioner Gordon cheered.

  “Yeah, you did it, Batman!” the relieved people in the street cheered.

  “Yeah, I did it again!” Batman agreed, not surprised in the least.

  “Whoa, that was stressful,” said Commissioner Gordon. “It’s a good thing I’m retiring.”

  “Don’t remind me, J-Dog,” said Batman. “You’re making me so emotional.”

  “Thank you, Batman,” yelled a grateful fan.

  “My pleasure,” answered Batman, his voice especially deep and gravelly.

  “We love you!” another citizen called out.

  “Thank you! I’m blushing so hard under the mask,” he responded.

  It felt like just another day to Batman, another crisis overcome. The city was always thanking him for his heroics. After all, he was Batman.

  “Grazie, Batman!” a citizen called.

  “Prego,” Batman replied, nodding.

  “Hey, Batman, can I have a photo?” another citizen asked.

  “Of course,” said Batman. He leaned in for the picture.

  “Thank you!” the citizen said.

  “Five dollars a photo,” said Batman. He waited as the citizen counted out his money.

  “You’re the best, Batman!” cried a fan.

  “Oh, I’m humble,” Batman said.

  “Thanks, Batman!” said another fan.

  “I’m totally modest about it. Thank you,” said Batman, puffing up his chest.

  At last, Batman gave a grand wave and strode over to the Batmobile. He drove away slowly, allowing his fans extra time to take in the sight of him—his cheeky grin, his cape flowing in the wind, his features accented by the black-and-charcoal interior of the Batmobile.

  Batman drove through the city’s busy center square, and people hung out of the windows, yelling and waving. Everyone was thrilled to see the city’s hero.

  As Batman waved and acknowledged his fans, he was overcome by a funny feeling. He took a deep breath. “Computer!” he called to the fancy dashboard of the Batmobile.

  “Go ahead,” Computer responded.

  “Are we near the orphanage?” asked Batman.

  “Yes.”

  “Great! Let’s turn those frowns upside down,” Batman said enthusiastically.

  Batman slowed down as he approached a massive building with a large green lawn. The yard was filled with children.

  When Batman honked, all the orphans stopped what they were doing.

  “That sounds like the Batmobile!” cried a boy with glasses. His name was Dick Grayson, and he was sitting on top of the orphanage’s sign. From his perch, he could identify the Batmobile and—even better—its driver. “No way! Hey, orphans. Look who’s here!” he cried.

  Dick was nimble and quick. He expertly leaped from the sign and sprang toward the Batmobile. But he was instantly trampled by the mob of orphans running toward the hero’s car.

  Before Dick had a chance to straighten his glasses, the other kids had all flocked to the area by the fence.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s Batman!” one kid yelled.

  “Hooray!” cheered the whole crew.

  “Hey, kids,” Batman called out. “Who wants a shot from the merch gun?”

  Batman pulled out what looked like a toy bazooka and aimed it at the crowd.

  “I do! I do!” the kids replied, jumping up and down.

  “Great!” Batman shot the gun, and it launched an impressive variety of Batman gear over the orphanage fence. The kids scrambled to snatch up the prizes.

  “The rest of you get Bat Bucks! Redeemable online,” Batman announced. He shot the merch gun again, and coupons fluttered in the sky in a flurry of fake money.

  The orphans chanted Batman’s name with glee—all except Dick Grayson. The kid who’d been first to recognize Batman was the only one left empty-handed. He watched longingly as the Batmobile revved away.

  Meanwhile, Batman was patting himself on the back. He had given a bunch of orphans all kinds of swag. He’d made them happy. This made Batman feel especially heroic.

  As the Batmobile neared Wayne Island, Computer asked for the password.

  A password? Wayne Island? What was going down?

  Well, in case you didn’t know, Wayne Island is named for one of Gotham City’s greatest families. The only living member of that family was the ace businessman Bruce Wayne. Because he was rich and handsome and gave money to good causes, a lot of people respected Bruce Wayne. He had a very busy social calendar, and he was known to be the life of every party he attended.

  Bruce had become an orphan at a young age. Ever since that time, Alfred, the Wayne family’s wise and kind butler, had looked after him. Even though Bruce was now a grown man, Alfred still looked after him. They lived together in Wayne Manor, on Wayne Island.

  The reason any of this is important is that the Batcave was also on Wayne Island. It was located directly beneath Wayne Manor. This was convenient because Bruce Wayne was also Batman, and Batman was also Bruce Wayne.

  When someone lives in extreme luxury on the edge of a crime-ridden city, security is very important. Therefore, the island required a password.

  Batman recited the password with a smug smile. “BATMAN RULES.”

  “Thank you,” Computer responded, and the doors to the secret, hidden entrance of the secret, hidden Batcave slid open.

  Batman parked the Batmobile in the Batcave. Then he thought ahead to his plans for the evening. He had to pay his electric bill. Geez, Computer used a lot of juice.

  Batman aimed the remote at his gigantic TV screen. The news turned on. “It must be a great time to be Batman,” Anchorman Phil declared. “I can only imagine he’s going home right now to party the night away surrounded by tons of friends.”

  Batman frowned. “Hey, Computer! I’m home!”

  His words echoed through the luxurious but empty Batcave.

  Computer cued up some music with a phat beat as Batman got his evening started.

  “Hey, Computer, put this bomb in the museum,” Batman said, holding up the bomb he’d defused earlier.

  “Certainly, sir,” Computer replied. A robotic arm reached out, grabbed the bomb, and placed it carefully next to another huge explosive.

  “Thank you,” said Batman.

  “No worries,” Computer replied.

  “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?” Batman asked.

  “You have four pieces of mail,” Computer said.

  “Great,” said Batman. “What did I get?”

  “You have this week’s penny saver, two bills, and a coupon for the local supermarket,” Computer said. “It expires in two weeks, but I’ve heard that some stores will honor it past the expiration date.”

  “Copy that,” said Batman.

  “Also, Alfred is on the seventeenth floor, grouting tiles in the second bathroom of the fifth master bedroom,” Computer informed him.

  Batman looked disappointed. “How long does that take?”

  “The estimated drying time is twenty-four hours, but it’s recommended to wait ten days before exposing the surface to moisture.”

  Batman sighed. It was a lot of work, keeping track of a manor and a Batcave. He aimed a grappling hook at a moving platf
orm and used it to pull himself up to his movable closet to change into something more comfortable.

  The closet was filled with Batman outfits for every occasion: Thanksgiving Chic; Fourth of July Patriot; Aquatic Explorer. Batman took off that day’s suit and put on a simple, knee-length robe. But he kept on his cowl—that is, his Batman mask.

  “Thanks for the update,” Batman said. “Have Alfred move me out of there. And I should probably have something for dinner.”

  “Alfred left Lobster Thermidor in the fridge.”

  “Oh, that’s my favorite,” Batman said. “I can’t wait.” He took the elevator down to the kitchen. Then he put the dish in the microwave and pushed 20:00.

  “Oh, not twenty minutes, silly,” he muttered to himself. He reset the clock to 2:00. Then he gazed longingly at the Lobster Thermidor as it slowly spun inside the microwave.

  When the creamy concoction was finally warm, he took it to the Batboat. Surrounded by lots of aquatic Bat-vehicles, he slid into the boat’s driver’s seat and ate his solitary meal.

  When he was done, Batman stretched. Then he pulled out his electric guitar. It was time to rock out with some post-Thermidor jams.

  Batman glanced at his watch. It was still early. He went to the manor’s theater to watch a movie. Next, he played in the manor’s pool with his finned friend, Dolphy.

  At last, it was time to brush his teeth. On his way to bed, he stopped to look at the family photos hanging in Wayne Manor’s parlor.

  “Hey, Mom, Hey, Dad. I, uh, saved the city again today,” he whispered. His gaze lingered on the photo. “I think you would’ve been really proud.”

  “There you are—” a nearby voice said. It was Alfred, who had known Batman back when he was just Bruce Wayne.

  Batman was startled. “Hi-yah!” he cried, kicking Alfred into his grand piano. The lid crashed down on top of the butler’s head.

  Alfred slowly lifted the lid and emerged, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Alfred! I am so sorry,” Batman said. “I have incredible reflexes.”

  “No, no,” said Alfred, stepping gingerly out of the piano. “It’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to sneak up on you like that.”