A Joker in The Court:
The chair slid with a loud squeal across the floor as it was pulled out from the table.
Batman's gauntleted hand held tight to its back, his fingers curling in, already feeling agitation as he took in the Joker.
The madman was seated across from him, his wrists shackled. The sleeves of his orange shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his skinny, stark white arms, and the shirt itself seemed to be soiled in spots, dark brown spatterings across the front. It looked like dried blood.
He was busying his hands with a deck of cards, performing some kind of complex shuffling technique. His eyes were fixed on the task, a few strands of his hair falling over, across his forehead.
Batman swept his cape back, lowering himself in to the chair, resting his forearms on to the table.
The Joker didn't look up to acknowledge him.
"You were free a long time."
The crusader spoke after a long moment, his voice a dark, heavy rasp.
The lunatic's lips pulled in to a subtle smirk, still keeping his eyes on the cards, still shifting them between his long fingers.
"You were gone a long time." He replied, his voice quiet.
Batman watched him carefully, listening to the soft, metallic clinks the cuffs made each time the Joker moved. He looked at the clown's face, taking in its still ravaged form. It wasn't as bad as the last time he'd seen him, but the scars were still deeply visible. The gnarled tissue, gathered in to a circular point just above his eyebrows, and the long and jagged cuts running up from the corners of his mouth, up along his cheeks, giving him what appeared as a permanent grin. They were fully healed now, but they still looked swollen and painful. The skin around it looked cracked and lined, like some broken porcelain doll. What once had been an evenly white visage now found itself marred by areas of light pink, the remnants of having been shot point blank in the face.
"What was that like?" Batman heard himself ask without really intending it.
The Joker stopped shuffling, bringing his eyes up at last.
"Getting shot in the face." The vigilante elaborated.
The madman's eyes fell back to his hands, beginning again to shuffle.
"You don't remember much about a thing like that." He answered. He paused, his hands going still, and for several seconds, he said nothing. "It hurt." He finally breathed.
Bruce couldn't help the small smile which crept over his lips.
"I'll bet." He said.
The Joker began laying the cards flat, single file along the table top.
"I was telling your son…"
"What?" Batman cut him short, his voice clipped.
Again the Joker smiled.
"Your son. I was telling him just how the bullet entered and made its exit."
He held his hand up, jamming his index finger under his chin, tilting his head back slightly.
"It went up through here…" His grin widened. "Through the roof of my mouth… past the nasal cavity, straight up through my forehead." He pressed his finger against the scar tissue there. "These though…" He touched the scar running up from his mouths right side. "The doctors here gave me these."
He brought his hand back down, continuing to lay the cards flat.
"That little boy of yours didn't seem too interested though."
In a flash, Batman had reached out, taking hold the lunatic's wrist, squeezing tight.
The Joker only smiled more.
"He's a real firecracker, that one."
His brow furrowed suddenly, his mouth pulling to a slight frown.
"Not very smart though. That can be overcome, to a degree, if you realize and accept your limitations. But his problem… his problem is he overestimates his own intelligence. That gets him in to trouble."
"And your mouth gets you in trouble." The vigilante said, increasing the pressure of his grip.
"I know." The lunatic chuckled. "The difference is, I do it on purpose. This new little Robin, he walked in to rather a precarious situation, more then once even, without knowing it. Thinking he was fully in control." The Joker laughed lightly. "Poor dear. I could so easily have killed him. Of course, that wasn't something he could admit. It's that convincing himself of his own invincibility which will get him killed someday."
"If you even think about…" Batman began, threatening to break the clown's wrist, increasing the pressure.
The Joker laughed loudly.
"Oh no, no. I don't want to kill this one. Believe me, if I wanted that, I would have. But the darling was part of the plan, you see. And he's just too much fun, really. So much like you! Not of the same wit, but the same temperament, surely..."
Batman relinquished his hold finally, pulling back.
"He isn't my son." He said stiffly.
"Don't lie to me Batman." The Joker said quickly, frowning.
"I'm not." The detective answered.
"You are. As though it matters. If I wanted to wipe the wretch off the face of the earth, I would. His biological relation to you has no bearing on that decision. You should know that."
Batman stood abruptly, reaching across the table, burying his hands in the madman's shirt and jerking him up, out of his chair. The cards fell from his hands, scattering across the floor.
The vigilante drew him close, until their faces were only inches apart.
"Keep pushing Joker." He growled low.
The Joker grinned wide.
"Oh, I will."
Disgusted, Batman pushed him away, letting him go, letting the lunatic fall hard back to his seat.
He hit it with an "Umph!".
Almost immediately he started a low chuckle.
The detective glared at him, overt repulsion crossing his features.
Slowly he sat back down.
He was getting off track. He was letting the Joker manipulate the conversation, extend it longer then it needed to be.
Talking to this man was dangerous. Bruce had to remind himself of that.
"What did you do with him?" He asked after a moment, trying to reign in his own anger.
"With who?" The Joker asked, bending down to pick up the fallen cards.
Batman thought of reaching forward and smashing the clown's head against the table.
He restrained himself.
"You know who. Simon Hurt."
The Joker sat straight, having collected all the fallen cards. He leaned back, beginning again to shuffle the deck.
He smiled.
"Simon says… lets all play dead."
"Did you kill him?" The detective asked bluntly.
The madman stopped shuffling, looking up.
"An evil man who managed through a source of power he didn't understand to extend his pathetic life beyond its natural course." He grinned. "Let's just say I took care of him."
Batman frowned.
"What does that mean?" He asked.
"I think you know." The Joker replied.
The vigilante's eyes narrowed, bringing his clenched fists up, resting them atop the table.
"You call him evil. What does that make you?"
"Inevitable." The Joker answered. "As Dr. Hurt told me."
The crusader's lip curled.
"You're a coward."
The lunatic's lips pulled in to a harsh frown, mock indignation crossing his features.
"Batman, please, you wound me deeply." He pressed a hand against his chest.
Batman said nothing. He could feel the tension building in his muscles. He never could understand why the madman had such an affect on him, this horrible unease which sank in to the pit of his stomach when around him.
He knew he should leave, and so he started, moving to stand.
"I did it for you."
He was halted by the Joker's voice.
"What?" He asked, halfway out of his seat.
"All of it. I made a promise to them; a promise to collect. The fools. They actually thought they could beat you." He chuckled. "Could beat me."
"What are you talking about?" Bruce pushed, sitting back down.
"The Black Glove and its five fingers. Worshippers of evil. But you and I Bats, we're so much more then that. So much greater then some mere concept actualized only by man."
For a moment, the madman went silent, boring with his bright green eyes in to Batman's own.
"We represent not forces of good and evil, dear. Nothing false as that. Though to the outsider, and the simple mind, it may seem that way. To Dr. Hurt, it may have seemed that way. His grand mistake. We are life and death Batman, creation and destruction." He smiled. "Order and chaos. Forces by which the universe is governed, not humanity. Forces beyond corruption. Beyond compromise. It's what I've always so admired in you. In you, like in me, that unmitigated unwillingness to ever yield in your convictions. Dr. Hurt didn't understand this. He thought the two of us could be made to serve him, that he could control us." The Joker chuckled lightly. "And I told him, I told all of them that you would survive. That you would beat their little trap, and that I would beat them at their own, ridiculous game. And of course, I was right. Aren't I always though?" He grinned.
And then he leaned forward, resting his arms on to the table, cradling the side of his long face in one hand, his other dangling loosely.
"We can't be controlled Batman. Not you and I." The smiled faded from his lips. "But we can be killed." He paused, his eyes unblinking as he gazed at the larger man. "You disappeared." He pointed at the vigilante. "Not long after I pulled myself out of Gotham harbor." He laughed. "Your little Robin, knocked me right in. And here I was, wondering why they chose sixteen as the legal limit to obtain your license."
"How did you get out?" Batman asked.
"Oh, sheer will." The Joker answered. "And the luck of not wearing a seatbelt. I just kicked the door open and swam to the surface. I'm used to that sort of thing."
Again silence fell between them, neither man looking away from the other.
"I went looking for you." The clown finally said. "I always find you, when I want to." He smiled once more. "But I couldn't find you this time. And then I began to hear things. They said you were dead. That's impossible I thought. I knew it was impossible."
Bruce didn't miss how the clown's hands clenched tightly, and the sudden anxiety which swept over his face.
The detective was taken aback.
He'd never seen that in the Joker. Never seen actual concern in his eyes.
"No one would be fool enough to kill you Batsy. Not unless they wanted to contend with me."
Suddenly he laughed, but it wasn't with his usual, malicious glee. There was a hint of something depressed, something bitter and angry.
"But I couldn't find you. No matter where I looked. You were gone… Gone." He said, his arms coming down, spreading out across the table, his hands now centimeters from Batman's own.
"But you continued to operate." The crusader said, his eyes falling to the Joker's outstretched hands. His nails were green. A deep color, like his hair. It looked bizarre against the absolute white of his skin.
"There was a debt to collect. I made a promise."
"You thought it was them who had killed me?"
The Joker shook his head.
"Not them. Not those simpering weaklings. But the promise was for you Bats. They would die because they failed, and because they had the preposterous gall to try their hand against something so completely beyond their comprehension."
Abruptly the Joker's eyes slid away.
"But something had changed Batman. In me. Chaos upon chaos. No order to balance it out." He giggled, and the sound was like that of a child. "Nothing to fight against. Nothing to push or pull. But one cannot exist without the other." His gaze shifted back to the vigilante. "Do you understand? The relationship is symbiotic. Enabling. What, after all, is there to throw in to disarray if everything is already such?"
"You lost your purpose." Batman said.
"There is no purpose." The Joker shot back quickly. "No purpose to anything. Any of this." He waved his shackled hands about. "I destroy because I can. Because it's there to be destroyed. As nature destroys. Indiscriminant and without reason. But you cannot destroy that which already is. And you cannot lose that which never was. I didn't lose purpose Batman. I lost my only challenge. The only thing keeping me from desperate boredom."
Batman's mouth screwed up in obvious disgust.
"You're sick." He spit.
The Joker smiled.
"Flattery will get you everywhere…"
"Why are you telling me this?" The crusader asked, growing tired.
"Patience darling. I'm getting to it. Without your unyielding will, your insistence in forcing order and meaning in to a senseless existence, I found myself unable to… perform, shall we say? Unable to do what it is I do best. I attempted to compensate then. To…" He laughed. "To replace you. That was a move born in desperation. I know better then anyone how very irreplaceable you are."
Batman only glared at him.
The Joker reached forward, dropping his hand over the crusaders, clasping down tight.
Bruce thought instantly to pull away, but the madman's grip was strong, and he had suddenly some kind of ridiculous fear of embarrassment, should he be unable to break easily free. So he just sat still, never averting his eyes.
"Dr. Hurt…" The lunatic went on. "I thought he. Organized evil against entropy. But Dr. Hurt, the very picture of uncertainty, of the easily persuaded and weak willed man. Of course, no challenge at all. He tried even to bargain with me." The clown chuckled. "Can you believe?"
"There's no bargaining with you." Batman replied.
The Joker smiled.
"You know me well dear."
Still, his bony fingers held, wrapped round the crusaders wrist.
"This world and its people are so easily driven towards the abandonment of their rules, of their laws. So easily made to act against their claimed ideals and codes of morality. And something so easily accomplished, as well you should know, is never any real fun. Dr. Hurt, I hoped, would have the strength of his convictions. That his desire to do bad for badness' sake would lend itself to his having an unshakable resolve." He smirked. "But no. He would do whatever necessary to gain his precious immortality and feeling of power. His belief in evil was about as true as mine, which means he didn't believe in it at all."
"Was?" Batman remarked.
The Joker grinned.
"Oops."
Finally the crusader pulled his hand back and the clown let go without protest.
"His group of loyal followers proved just as sorry. How they begged for their lives Bats. The ones who had the chance. I told them I did it for you, for their daring to attack you. They were so very fast to disown any involvement then, claiming all manner of outrage, like they never wanted to go along with it, that they'd been forced to participate. As though I hadn't actually been there to see their whipped up glee as they dragged your unconscious body to that coffin. As though it hadn't been me who allowed them that access to you in the first place. They never would have gotten anywhere close to touching you had it not been for our encounter that night."
There was heavy disgust in the madman's voice now, his eyes angry.
And then he again smiled.
"But I knew you'd prepared. You always do. And I knew you'd dig yourself up out of that grave and lay it to them like the hero you are."
The Joker brought his eyes back to the deck of cards again, which he'd arranged in to a neat pile. He laid a hand over it.
"You pulled yourself free alright. And there's no doubt you'd have hunted every member of the Black Glove down, not that I'd intended to give you the chance." He laughed lightly. "I was going to do the job for you."
"And you did." Bruce said, not even attempting to hide his disgust.
"I did." The Joker agreed, nodding, still keeping his gaze fixed on the table. "But you'd gone away. You left me Batman." He looked up then, frowning. "And I changed. I couldn't go after them as the Joker then. I couldn't play that role without my straight man."
"So you created a new identity? You do that practically every day Joker."
"But this was different. You see? Without you, I had to play both roles." He laughed. "A killer investigating his own crimes. What fun! Dr. Hurt had adopted his own, new persona. El Penitent, a drug cartel in Mexico, with a railway he'd built, from there straight to Gotham. So I adapted, and in salute to his stupidity, I became the Domino Killer."
"The game of Mexican Train. You were taunting him. Very clever."
"I like to think so." The Joker mused.
"What is the point Joker?" Batman spit, losing his patience. "You aren't going to tell me what you did with Hurt. And so I have no reason to stay."
He moved to get up.
"You're your own worst enemy Batman." The Joker said, his tone flat. "And the funniest part is, you don't even know it."
Batman lashed out, taking hold the Joker's collar and dragging him up, across the table.
"I've had it with your games Joker!" He raged, lifting him up fully and spinning him around, slamming him back against the wall.
The Joker's eyes closed inadvertently at the impact, grunting out, a sound which slid fast in to laughter.
"Heeee… you see?" He began. "Do you even realize what you stopped by coming back?"
Batman reached up, curling his strong fingers round the madman's throat, squeezing down.
"I stopped you." He spit.
The Joker chuckled, the sound coming out as more of a wheeze, his lips pulling in to a grin.
"You stopped me from stopping what you hate most."
"Talk straight." The detective's hand tightened.
"Heee. See? That kid's just like you. He told me the same thing. And just like I told him, I'll tell you, I am talking straight."
Batman's teeth bared in a snarl, his hand tightening even more. It would be so easy he thought, to snap the bastard's neck. But how many times had that exact thought gone through his head? He'd only be giving the lunatic what he wanted. With a growl of frustration, he finally let go, letting the Joker drop to the floor, on to his knees. The madman fell forward, catching himself on his hands, choking as he breathed air back in to his lungs.
Bruce could already see bruising on his pure white neck from where his fingers had been pressing down.
"Heeheehee…" The Joker's laugh came out a high pitched strain and he lifted his face, looking up at the crusader, his eyes glinting.
Batman stepped back, away from him, as though he were some diseased animal.
The clown only continued to laugh as slowly he pushed himself to his feet.
"I'd make a good hero." He said, bringing his hands up, the chain of his cuffs clinking metallic as he pointed a finger at the vigilante. "Like you."
"I'm not a hero." Batman hissed, his lip curling in disgust. "And you desecrate the word by mentioning yourself in the same sentence."
A flash of displeasured washed over the Joker's features.
"You're not a hero?" He asked, as though the question were absurd. "Then who is? Certainly not that buffoon who flies around in blue spandex or whatever the hell his suits made of. It's so easy for him. He's naive, really believing in a better world. He thinks he can change things, change the nature of things. His powers allow him that unfortunate delusion. And he enjoys what he does because of it. Because he thinks it somehow matters. But you… you don't really believe anything can ever be better, do you? You know the truth. You're haunted by it every day. But you still fight against it, because you don't agree that it's right. You still suffer for it, even though you know, in the end, how very hopeless it is. That makes you a hero Batman. More then any of those other super-powered nimrods."
The Joker stepped suddenly closer.
"As for myself?" He pressed a hand flat against his chest. "I adapt well." He smiled. "If I didn't have a single, deserving force to battle, well then, why not compensate with an entire element? The criminals in this city are practically begging to be upset. I'd have done just that, but, well, you showed up to do it yourself, didn't you? You see? I was going to give our boys in blue a bit of a break and show our more unsavory friends just how rough things really are."
Bruce stared hard at him, saying nothing.
"And you know how good I am at that." The Joker went on. "At making things… uncomfortable."
Again he stepped closer, until now he was mere inches from where Batman stood, practically touching the crusader.
The madman dropped his voice to a whisper.
"A man of my talents would find the transition from villain to hero a seamless one." He said, and slowly he lifted his hands, resting them against Batman's chest. "What do you say Bats? I could be your boy wonder day and night." He smiled.
Batman's face twisted in loathing and he took vicious hold of the Joker's hands, squeezing tight before shoving him away, against the wall.
"Keep your hands off me you filth!" He spat.
The lunatic giggled as though he were a little boy.
"You're just mad at yourself. Don't worry. You'll get over it, after a little while. Once we get back in to the swing of things."
"You wouldn't have been able to keep it up." Batman shot. "You're a deviant Joker. You can't cut it in the real world, so you resort to criminality."
The Joker laughed loudly, suddenly.
"How dear you are!" He managed. "That must be the guilt talking. You know as well as I that isn't true. Money and power and notions of security? Those mean nothing at all to me." He continued to chuckle. "And I'd beg to differ with your definition of real. It's everyone else who can't quite cut it, I'm afraid. So scared of the truth that they choose instead to build up a world of their own, a false world, with their pretend rules and laws of proper conduct. It's all of them living in a fantasy Bats, not me. I do what I do because I enjoy it. How many people can actually say that for themselves? Very few, I assure you. They do what they do because they're too afraid to do what they really want."
The madman sighed, shaking his head.
"And don't be foolish. I can keep things up for as long as forever, if that's what I want to do."
That was true. The Joker was nothing if not tenacious. Batman had seen him take, and even given him the kinds of beatings which would surely leave anyone else in tears, begging for mercy. Yet the lunatic would only egg you on if you dared to lay a hand against him.
The Joker shrugged, mouth pulling in to an unaffected frown.
"But, you came back, and, here we are. Back to our natural order, hmm? You against me, me against you. So much fun to be had!" He smiled wide.
Batman glared, cold and angry.
"The only fun you'll be having is in your dreams Joker. You're locked up, remember? And after that little incident you pulled back at the police station… You landed yourself deep this time. You won't be getting out."
The lunatic laughed merrily, suddenly moving off the wall, around the vigilante without apprehension, back to the table.
He stood, turned away, resting his left hand against the table's edge.
Batman turned with him, staring at his back.
He studied him.
The Joker was the very definition of imposing.
He was painfully thin, even frail looking. Even weak looking.
But it hardly mattered.
The madman would exude the worst kind of danger.
He was very unusually tall. Taller then Bruce, by three inches. And the Joker, being the consummate showman that he was, used that height to its very fullest affect.
It didn't matter if you were bigger then him, or stronger then him. If you could fight better then him, or physically handle him.
The Joker would put himself in your face, without any existence of hesitation, and stare you down until you had to look away.
And it was the utter lack of concern in his eyes which would only then makes yours deepen.
Because you knew, you knew, in that moment, if you dared to meet the Joker's gaze, you were looking in to the eyes of a person truly insane.
He was like some kind of apparition.
Intangible.
Untouchable.
You could do nothing to him.
Nothing to stop him.
Batman hadn't ever figured out how to stop him.
Not like the others.
The others…
They all had some limit, some bound.
The Joker had none of it.
Batman had met his gaze countless times. He'd held it.
But by God, did he hate to.
It was looking in to the eyes of hopelessness, of never ending despair.
Facing it.
Forcing himself to face it, even when it shook the very foundation on which he stood.
He had to face it, to see it, so then he wouldn't become it.
To be as the Joker was, lost to everything as he was, without hopes, without dreams, without sense of worth, or value, or care…
Bruce could imagine no existence more frightening.
He might have felt sorry for the Joker, if the Joker at all felt sorry for himself.
But he didn't.
The Joker felt no fear over the state in which he lived, no regret or desperation for his freefalling condition.
No need to find purchase, or a place for him to cling to.
He was content as was.
Relishing even in the bleak desolation of his own perception.
And of the many things terrifying about the Joker, that, perhaps, was the most terrifying of all.
To feel such despondency, and yet feel no need to escape it.
No want even.
No desire.
Being anywhere near the Joker caused deep dread to work its way up in to the pit of your stomach, settling heavy there, refusing to go until you at last broke free of his presence.
It was nothing but a terrible sense.
Like something finite and inescapable.
Something beyond cruelty.
Utter indifference.
Like death.
The Joker was like death.
"I can escape any man-made structure, any man-made restraint." His thoughts were interrupted by the madman's soft voice. "You know this well as I do."
"You're in deep lockdown, Arkham's most secure…"
A sharp peel of laughter cut him short.
"Don't be so disagreeable." The Joker said. "The disbelief in your own words is plainly evident in your voice. It's unattractive, when you're trying to convince yourself of a certain point, passing it off as though trying to convince another."
He turned then, looking back over his shoulder at the crusader, smirking.
"And you call me the great liar. Heh."
Batman said nothing, mouth pulled in to a thin line.
He could feel the tension rising in his veins.
The Joker would escape…
He always escaped…
Death following in his wake…
No way to stop him…
No way to convince him otherwise…
Like death…
Like death….
So utterly beyond persuasion.
Suddenly the Joker turned fully towards him, smile widening.
He stepped towards the vigilante, stopping again only inches from him.
"So you see darling," his gaze traveled down, over Batman's broad form, lingering a moment before moving back up, meeting the detectives eyes. "you thought you'd saved the day with your return…" his smile turned to a grin. "but you only ensured my further contribution to that day's unavoidable end."
Batman remained still, silent, ignoring the sudden desire to step away.
"Still…" the Joker continued, his eyes again lowering, to the crusader's shoulders now, his hands coming up at once, resting upon them, the link of his cuffs whapping softly against Batman's chest. "it would be rather a splendid adventure, don't you think? Me by your side, fighting the good fight." He chuckled lowly. "Wouldn't that be something wonderful?"
Batman's own hand came up, pressing against the Joker's bony, flat chest, shoving him back in one, easy motion, causing him to stumble and nearly lose his balance.
"No." He replied, flat, emotionless.
The madman struggled to right himself, giggling softly as he did.
"You sound so sure." He replied.
"I am." Batman sneered, feeling unclean from the Joker's touch.
"You can't be sure until you've experienced a thing." The lunatic was fast to argue, the smile never leaving his dead white face. "I think I might fancy an attempt. Certainly, it was amusing, playing the part of ally to our original little bird."
Bruce felt himself stiffen, nervousness taking him with the mention of Dick.
His unease grew each time the Joker spoke of the Robins. Any of them.
"But you've always been my favorite playmate Batsy." The madman stared hard at him. "You know that, yes? The chemistry just isn't there between me and the kid. He's too freewheeling, too much like myself. One needs contrast, you understand."
"Stop talking about him." Batman shot, voice dry and even.
The Joker again laughed.
"I'm speaking of you, silly Bat. The original Boy-blunder is used only as example."
"Stop talking about him or I'll beat you blind." Batman repeated, tone heavy.
The Joker sighed, seemingly unfazed by the threat.
"Oh, you're so serious Batman." He complained, waving his hands forward, frowning.
But as quickly as the expression had come, it went, replaced once more by a smile.
"But that's what I most love about you. The drama of you. The gravity. Oh, where would I be without it dear? That unyielding, humorless dedication you have. My very bread and butter."
Bruce's lips pulled down in disgust.
He'd had enough of this.
Enough of listening to this lunatic and his games.
He'd allowed himself to be lulled far too long now, anger erupting inside him at the realization.
He said nothing, turning from the madman, back towards the cell's exit, rapping the door for the guard.
"Leaving so soon?" He heard the Joker behind him.
He didn't reply.
"Shame. I was so enjoying your company."
"Well now you can enjoy yourself." Batman snapped. "You're all the company you'll have from now on."
The Joker laughed lowly.
"Lying to ourselves still, are we?"
Batman stood stiffly, again rapping the door.
A moment past in silence.
"I won't be coming to see you again, if that's what you mean." The vigilante finally spoke.
The Joker smiled, stepping closer.
"Batman…"
The detective didn't move.
"Batman…" the Joker repeated, standing nearer now.
And Bruce turned, discomfort creeping up in him, sensing the lunatic's closeness.
He was right, the madman just inches away.
"You forget the other possibility." He grinned.
"… What's that?" Batman asked, stoic.
"Heh… My coming to see you." The Joker pressed an index finger against the vigilante's chest.
Batman's mouth twisted in a scowl, standing stone still.
The two of them remained, staring unflinching, seconds passing in silence.
There was suddenly a loud buzzing, the door unlocking as the guard ran the code.
Batman reached up again, pressing him palm flat against the Joker's chest, pushing him back.
And again he turned, cape sweeping up behind him, pushing the door open.
Without further comment, he exited, letting the cell slam shut behind.
The Joker stepped to it, his hands coming up, wrapping round the bars covering the small window, bringing his face close.
"Oh doll! I miss you already!" He called out. "This being apart! Simply unbearable! Expect for me to call upon you soon! Quite soon! I promise! I promise, my love!"
And quickly he dissolved in to hysterics, the sound echoing down the corridor, bouncing loud off its walls, reaching Batman's ears, impossible to block out.
Impossible to stop.