Update: 2/10/19
Wow. Um, sorry for the massive delay. But, uh, I'm revising this whole story right now (specifically changing some characters and some small details) and then will finally update this story and hopefully redeem myself for the massive absence.
Anyways, I grew very used to writing in present tense over the last year, so writing in past tense again was incredibly difficult, and if you catch any present tense slips, I'm sorry. But if you want me to just change everything to present tense to better remedy that so there isn't the irritating of seeing present vs past tense, please let me know.
Additions to this chapter: added beginning and small bits of dialogue throughout.
"Well, if you'd woken up properly the first time I kicked you, I wouldn't have had to do It four more times!" Joker cackles to the boy curled up into a small ball, coughing and gagging and spluttering.
The boy slowly hauled himself to his knees, his wrists twisting behind him as he tested out the rope binding him and prevented him from being able to properly defend himself. He takes a deep breath. "What do you want, Joker?" he asked, ignoring the flame of agony that reverberated through his chest as he spoke.
The Joker leaned down on one knee and rubs a hand along his mouth. "No dramatics? I'm disappointed, bird boy."
He could feel his mouth begin to turn into a sneer as he pulls himself to his feet completely. Joker followed suit, that wicked grin never wavering. "I'm not in the mood for games, Joker. What do you want from me?"
"Everything."
He turned away from the Joker and walked around, eyeing his surroundings, looking for some sort of leverage. As he walked, he spoke to Joker. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you missed your chance for that. Batman and I don't really talk anymore. You missed that margin by a year –"
And then he found himself on the floor, a surprised grunt escaping him. A trickle of blood uncomfortably wound its way through his hair and into his ear. He ignored his pain, flinging himself to the side and narrowing avoiding that bat that shattered into a billion pieces as it connects where he head had been moments ago.
Damn. Joker was getting better at the game called 'sneak attack.'
He glared up at the madman. Anger flashed through the madman's eyes. Good.
"Batsy will come for you. He always does. And when he does, you and I will be long gone from here."
Anger makes a person sloppy, vulnerable to attacks in their rage. Good. Get angry, Joker.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that. You want Batman's attention, but you won't get it. Not with me."
The grin on Joker's face halted for a fraction of a second before it returns. "You know, Boy Blunder, it's been a while since I've been on a good killing spree. Let's remedy that, shall we?"
Nightwing raised an eyebrow and threw himself to his feet, his arms hanging uselessly behind him. He jumped in the air and aimed a kick and Joker's head. "Let's not."
Joker merely laughed and spun out of the way. He grabbed the crowbar out of his jacket and aimed true right as Nightwing landed on his feet.
Nightwing gasped as the fork of the crowbar tore into his leg, tearing flesh in its wake. Groaning, he whirled on his feet and raised his leg as the crowbar aimed for his other leg. He kicked it away and barrels straight into the Joker, his leg screaming the whole time.
The tussle ends with Joker's foot planted firmly against his chest, pressing down with increasing strength. He sputtered, blood leaking from his split lip and his legs thrashing uselessly below. He felt he ribs creak and groan under the immense pressure.
Just when he thought he was about to die, the Joker releases him. He gasped for air and watched the Joker retrieve the crowbar. Nightwing forced himself to drag himself up, his knees becoming drenched in the pool of blood gathering around his torn thigh.
Blue eyes glared up at the crazed man looming above him while he proudly lifted himself as high as he could. The crazed man pulled back his hands as if holding a baseball bat and swung the crowbar at the seventeen year old's chin. It met with a sickening thud, throwing the younger man a few feet away and down on his back.
Blood red lips puckered up to whistle in awe before stretching into a demented grin. "So you really do fly, after all," he commented over the pained cough that shook the other's frame.
Gloveless hands bound behind his back kept his back arched up into an uncomfortable position from his new spot on the floor. He coughed again, small droplets of blood spraying from his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to ignore the agony that shot across his now bruised jaw.
A foot suddenly slammed down onto the boy's solar plexus, making his eyes snap open, all the air forced from his lungs as he struggled. The booted foot grinded down further, making him halt all actions, not wanting to be the cause of his own death.
A white-painted face leered down at him before backing away and taking a step back. The boy gasped for air.
"Ooh, that looked like it hurt." That crazed grin seemed to stretch wider if at all possible.
The boy ignored him, choosing instead to try to controll his haggard breathing. He found out that that was a mistake a moment later when another blow from the crowbar smashed into his scapula. Another agonized grunt escaped him, which number he knew not of; he'd lost count of how many times he'd grunted after… well… about halfway through the beating. He'd lost track of time after the first hour.
"Wait, that looked like it hurt a lot more."
Ugh, that voice just seemed to bounce around through a fuzzy mind. Eyelids slid shut, allowing the boy to think.
Was anyone coming for him? They had to know he was missing by now; he had rushed out in the middle of the battle to chase after the crazed clown, after all. He couldn't have just let him get away! Too little, too late, he'd realized he'd been lured into a trap. Harley's hammer(although she hadn't been there, he was more than sure, otherwise she'd be here now) was the last thing he'd seen before being sent into unconsciousness.
One gloved hand pulling him up by the collar of his uniform and jerked him upwards, making his body ache in protest. Pearl white teeth contrasted the horrid smell of the Joker's breath. He nearly gagged on the scent itself. "Why so serious, Bird Boy?" the Joker questioned, his usual smirk fading into a frown. Nightwing didn't know which was more scary; Joker's smirk that always indicated ill-intent, or the frown.
He decided to smirk. He needed to play the Joker's game for now. "Since when am I ever serious?"
Joker's smile returned. "This is what I've missed!" he exclaimed. "You, me, and Mr. Crowbar here!" he lifted the crowbar up as he spoke. "And this time, Batsy won't be interrupting our fun ol' game!" Joker laughed, dropping Nightwing in the process of doubling over.
Nightwing tried to at least land somewhat gracefully, but he only succeeded in twisting his own wrist, much to his dismay.
The crowbar rested underneath his throat. "I wanna know something, Bird Boy."
The hero tilted his head to the side. "What's that?"
An angry look appeared in the Joker's eyes. "Why did you leave the Bat?" he demanded. "After he gave you everything! How could you leave his wing?"
He attempted to shrug but failed miserably. "What can I say? Birds don't like being caged for too long. It was time for me to- ack!" he was cut off with the piece of metal being pressed into his neck and cutting off his air supply.
A dangerous look flashed across Joker's face. "Well some birds just need to stay in their cage. And your cage is right here with me-your Uncle J!" The man concluded his mini speech with an agonizing hit to Nightwing's stomach.
The younger rolled onto his side and spat out a mouthful of blood as well as some vomit.
"You know, that's just rude," the Joker's voice rang through Nightwing's head. "Some person was courteous to build this warehouse and here you are rudely spilling blood and vomit over the floors. I guess that leaves me with the cleanup job. Do you know what that means?" He leaned back and smacked the boy in the center of his back, forcing him to roll onto his front. Joker jumped up and drove a knee directly onto the boy's spinal cord. Both males felt something shift in the younger's back. "Let's try to clear something up, okay pumpkin? What hurts more; A… or B…"
'A' was a repeat of knee to spine, whereas 'B' was a devastating attack from the crowbar on the same spot. Nightwing nearly gave an answer when the Joker grasped the neck of his uniform and hoisted him up into a slouched kneeling position. Nightwing fought for breath the whole way while trying to focus on anything but the agony coursing through his back, directly above his left lung.
Nightwing glared up at the man standing above him. "Fuck you," he managed to gasp between short breaths. Battered lungs refused to allow him to take one good breath of air.
The Joker crouched down beside him. "Well that wasn't very nice. Did Batsy teach you to say that?" He made a mock frown to counter the glare sent at him.
Collecting the blood entering his mouth, Nightwing pulled his head up and spat it at the man in such a way that Jason would be proud of. Bulls-eye.
The Joker, on the other hand, wasn't very pleased at all. He grabbed Nightwing's hair and slammed his face into the ground with all his strength. Nightwing almost cried out at the familiar sensation of his nose breaking upon impact. Blood began to gush from his nose.
Joker stood back up, wiping the blood on his face off with a handkerchief he produced from the inside of his purple suit. "Now that was rude. You at least had some manners from when you were still the Boy Blunder. The first Bird Boy." Nightwing tilted his head to the side to smile at his enemy, revealing bloody teeth. "I suppose I'm going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in the old you's footsteps. But for that I'll need a new toy…" He broke off, squinting and eye shut, pulling his lips towards his left cheek and looking up with his right eye.
Both eyes looked back down at the younger man, a smile blooming on his face once more. He raised both hands and pulled back as much as he could. "Nah, I'm just gonna keep beating you." One foot planted between Nightwing's shoulder blades, pushing him down fully onto his back. He groaned when he felt his spinal cord scrape together.
Blue eyes met green, though no words were spoken. His muddied mind didn't work fast enough to allow him to prepare for the inevitable. A scream tore his throat when two ribs cracked under the same blow, leaving him heaving for air once more that his abused lungs wouldn't allow.
"Oh, so now you decide to sing for me?" God, Nightwing was really starting to hate sarcastic people.
"They'll…" he broke off, trying to get enough air through to at least retain some of his dignity.
"They'll… what? They'll what?" Joker's sadistic smile burned even brighter, if that was possible. He knew he had the boy beat. He was just humoring himself at this point.
"Killing me does nothing," he whispers. "You can't kill an idea." Nightwing's voice barely made it to the Joker's ears, but he understood what the bird was saying.
"Just… just kill me already." This was it. Nightwing had given up. He didn't care how it ended. Whether it be him being saved by the League or by the Joker just ending it, he just wanted the pain to stop.
Joker smacked the crowbar twice in his hands, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Watching the light leave your eyes will give me enough satisfaction. Then I'll see about that idea of yours, hm?"
He suddenly paused, a smile wider than should even be possible spreading across his face. The Clown Prince of Crime disappeared from the broken bird's view for a few seconds before returning. Nightwing had tilted his head to the side to try to keep an eye on him. This time, instead of holding a crowbar, a three foot long, thick steel pole was in the Killer Clown's hands.
The Clown Prince of Crime lifted his arms, pulled back, and crashed the merciless pole down onto the vigilante's head. Stars burst into Nightwing's eyes and everything went black for numerous seconds. When those cerulean eyes opened again, everything remained distorted and he had trouble remembering why he was laying on the ground.
A white hand reached his vision, though the action of the hand waving back and forth turned into two hands that moved at a snail's pace.
Something red dripped into his eye, though his reaction of trying to blink it away was far too slow of a reaction; he began blinking thirty seconds after the initial intrusion in his pupil.
A voice echoed through his mind but he couldn't place a name to it and the words registered later than they should've. "Holy shit! I can literally see your skull! You still okay down there? You still alive, Bird Brain? Batsy is going to be pissed when he sees you! Or what's left of you, anyway."
Bird Brain. That name sounded familiar, but he couldn't think of where or why he'd heard it before. All he knew was that this 'Batsy' person wasn't coming.
"I have an idea!" Again with that scarily familiar voice. "Let's role play Lord of the Flies! You can be Simon and I'll be the hunters!"
The boy vaguely recognized the feeling of sickening thuds echoing around in his mind, but he felt nothing. One particular crack of his ribcage sent the boy tumbling back into unconsciousness.
Joker sighed again before walking away. The sound of footsteps getting quieter told him that. Hands rummaged for a winter coat. "Anyways, I gotta go. But it's been fun though, right?" Absolute quiet. "Maybe not for you but I'm just guessing because you're all quiet. Anyways, remember to do your homework, eat a good dinner, and be in bed by nine." A short pause. And then- "And hey! Please tell the Big Man I said, 'hello.' AHA!" A door slammed shut.
The boy awoke five minutes later and sprung into action. He slowly rolled onto his back, whimpering in agony with every movement as what was left of his ribcage put throbbing pressure on the shattered section. Actually somersaulting so that he could get his hands in front of him was one hundred times worse. Twice, his hand came in contact with the blood leeching from his leg wound.
Attempting to stand up was out of the question. Between his absolutely battered, weary body and the rapidly growing pool below him, the boy just knew he wouldn't be conscious for much longer. So he resorted to crawling. His teeth were clenched the entire time, eyes flashing with pure anguish the whole way.
It took a while to reach the door, but he'd never felt so relieved in his life. That feeling dissipated in a heartbeat. The door was locked, probably by a padlock on the outside. Without his boots, gloves, or utility belt, the boy knew he stood no chance. He'd have to wait for someone to find him first. That, or die of blood loss.
He hoisted himself up into a sitting position, back to the door, and closed his weary eyes, trying his damnest to not look at the trail of blood he'd left in his wake. It was sickening. A faint ticking noise that he hadn't noticed in his brain before made him reopen them. Blue eyes widened in fear. The timer of the bomb read ten seconds. Guilt washed over him. He stared at it, completely dumbfounded and in shock. "So all of my efforts weren't even worth it."
But damn it if he were giving up that easily. It looked like he'd have to save himself.
Screaming out in anger, pain, desperation, and every other wild emotion going through his brain, he flung himself against the door, forcing himself to ignore the white-hot pain it sent through his shoulder. When that failed, he tugged at the door handle and jerked on it as if his life depended on it. And it did.
Two seconds left. The teen closed his eyes, accepting his fate. But even with one second left, he was still twisting that doorknob and throwing himself against the door in vain. Deep betrayal of realizing no one came for him shuddered through his mind.
Yet nothing prepared him for the split second of being burned alive, his entire body catching fire, before he knew no more.