BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! A nearby horn wailed, and just like clockwork, Mrs. Tuck's middle finger flew out the window at lightning speed. It didn't even faze me anymore. I knew that every day some kid fresh out of driver's ED would piss her off, and everyday she'd reward the will the old one finger salute. Just like clockwork.
"You just wait ladies," Mrs. Tuck turned to address her daughter and I, bright pink sunglasses slipping down her bleach blonde ponytail, "I found these fabulous little chicken wing things at the grocery store. They come with garlic parmesan sauce- to die for."
"Mrs. Tuck," I grinned, "I'm a vegetarian."
"Just testing you," she snickered, pointing at me teasingly. Emily Tuck chuckled beside me, used to our exchange by now. After four years, we all were.
"Ms. Emily Tuck, buckle your seatbelt!" Mrs. Tuck frowned at her daughter accusingly.
"Mom, you're not even wearing one!" Emily complained.
"You're right, I'm a horrible example. Follow Ava's instead," she nodded at me, "At Gotham rush hour you'd be insane not to-"
"MOM THE ROAD!" Emily shrieked, her terrified gaze glued to the window shield.
We all turned just in time to see the side of an enormous white truck. The window shield shattered and everything went black.
I blinked rapidly, wrenching myself from the destroyed leather seat.
"…Emily…" I moaned, turning my head to see my friend. I hissed at the unexpected flash of pain that accompanied using my neck. Shifting my shoulders, I strained to look at her.
"Omigod," I breathed. Her skull had caved in, completely shattered. Blood stained the window, the seat, everything, "Emily…"
A trickle of blood dripped from her nose, as if she was answering to her name.
Suddenly the door was wrenched open, and someone threw Mrs. Tuck out of the car. Her body flopped across the ground like a ragdoll, and then didn't move. Definitely not the paramedics.
I went rigid, slumping further down into the seat.
"Are you all dead?" the man asked nobody in particular, not bothering to turn around.
"Yes," I squeaked, not sure what to do.
He rotated slightly, pulling a Glock 17 from his coat pocket. I hit the ground, waiting as the bullets rang against the upholstery.
"How about now?" he revved the engine, stomping on the accelerator. I was silent this time, but obviously not silent enough, "Fine, be that way," he pouted, weaving through traffic.
A steady purr echoed behind us, tempting me to peek through the Mazda RX-8's tinted window.
The Batmobile, easily recognized by its infinite fame of GNN (Gotham Network News), trailed steadily behind us. I've barely spent a night not watching it slide through traffic, bombarding mob bosses and drug dealers with deafening rounds of gunfire.
"I've got a hoooooostage!" The Joker sang, "Well, two. But that one's kind of dead… maybe one and a half?"
That's who he was. It was the Joker. His name had always been tossed around- jokes, horror stories, but it was always someone else. It was always someone else.
I remember the one time I had seen his face. The one night my mother had left the news on.
"…Police released video footage found concealed on the body. Sensitive viewers be aware: it is disturbing."
My mom had been curled up on the couch, cocooned in a huge throw. She hadn't heard me step in. She didn't know I was there.
"Tell them your name," The Joker demanded, the video trained on a bloodied man in a makeshift Batman costume.
"Brian Douglas," his voice was weak and strained.
"Are you the real Batman?" his tone was mocking.
"N-no."
"No?" he cackled, "Then why do you dress up like him?" he pulled Brian's mask off, shaking it for everyone to see.
"He's a symbol…" Brian murmured, "That we don't have to be afraid of scum like you…"
"But you do Brian," the Joker grinned, "You really do. You think the Batman's helped Gotham?"
Brian nodded uncertainly.
"Look at me," he demanded, "LOOK AT ME!"
The camera swung to face the Joker, donning his signature white chalk makeup, "This is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go. So…" he leaned in, "Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't… people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word."
At that point the video started fading to static, and I had yelped at the sudden sound. Mom had been angry, but too upset to work up a decent rage. She had sent me too bed and we'd both tried to forget. Since the fear gas incident we'd been grateful for all of Batman's help, he'd personally saved my father's life. We knew he'd get bad press for the Joker thing but were willing to believe in him the way he believed in Gotham.
People will die.
Shit.
I didn't fear death, though it wasn't preferable, but I had an extremely low pain tolerance. Unfortunately the two were never far from each other.
The Batmobile disappeared from view, losing me my only point of interest. My fifteen year old mind demanded constant entertainment, so I focused back on the Joker.
He was enjoying himself thoroughly, an enormous smile plastered across his face. And it wasn't just the scars.
Suddenly the Batmobile skidded in front of us, appearing out of a side street. If we were to collide- well- it'd be pretty easy to guess which car would come out on top. The Batmobile was built like a tank.
The Joker slammed the break down, hopping out of the car. I was completely ready to wait it out and head for the hills, but the Joker had other plans. Yanking me out of the vehicle he pressed me to his purple suited breast. He advanced towards the Batmobile, pressing a knife to my throat.
"Come out come out where ever you are," he sang quietly.
With a hiss the Batmobile's hood lifted, allowing the infamous Batman to climb out. He steadily moved forward, hesitant to do anything that would endanger me.
My chest began to heave as my breathing picked up. Reality started to set in as the cold metal stung against my jawline. Night had fallen and the only lights shown from the dimly lit lampposts lining the road. With Batman's black car and suit, he looked like a shadow next to the extravagancy of the Joker.
"Let her go," Batman rasped.
"Hm, let me think. No."
Though the streetlights barely lit the actual streets, everything seemed too bright. The purple glove, the scarlet smear, the soft orange glow. The moon.
"I would seriously reconsider moving any farther," The Joker threatened, but he began chuckling so hard afterwards his knife shook.
Batman stopped obediently, a dark hatred in his eyes.
"Now, take off that mask of yours, or little Suzy here?" the Joker nodded towards me.
"Ava," I corrected him meekly.
"Little Ava here might not see high school," he finished smugly.
"I'm going into tenth grade, I started high school last year," I tentatively corrected him yet again.
"Sh sh sh sh shhhh," he caressed my hair with his free hand, forcing a shiver down my spine, "Shhhhhhhh."
He looked back up, but Batman had disappeared completely. My first thought was that he'd given up- left me to the madman's devices.
"Baaaad move," he shook his head, still chuckling, "You reeeally screwed up this time."
I bit my lip, wondering where in hell Batty had gone. He always saved them. Always.
"Y-you don't have to do this," I offered.
"Actually I really do," he licked his lips.
"It was worth a try," I sighed.
The light closest to us blew out with a bang, showering the street with sparks. Then the next. And the next.
"Ha ha! The fun begins!" he crowed.
A phwish sounded above and a two hundred pound mass of vigilante landed on top of us. The knife skittered across the ground, and after a beat I jumped to retrieve it. The Joker saw me going for it and grabbed my leg, wrenching me towards him. Stumbling out from under Batman, the Joker hurdled over me and snatched the knife. He slashed at me savagely, slicing my leg before Batman wrestled him back into his hold.
I scrambled out of the way, clutching at my dripping limb.
"You have no idea," he could barely speak he was laughing so hard, "What you've started. Now she has too die. Nice job Bats, here's one more for the 'ol conscious. How many people have died because of you? Hm? HM?" by that point he could no longer speak, his insane laughter piercing the night like a knife.
"Go home," Batman rumbled, eyeing me sharply. It felt like a mask, trying to hide his concern. His pain.
I nodded abruptly, clambering to my feet. Careful not to put too much weight on my leg, I tore into the night.