Though the scene would have done well with the addition, no wind whistled through the windows of the room to create an eerie feel. There were no windows. The only noises heard were Batman's heavy breathing and the steady beating of the Joker's heart; Did he have one after all? The two of them, together, alone and confined. At last. At long, long last.

"Where is Dent?"

The voice was deep and shockingly masculine. Even the still, lifeless, un-breathing cement walls seemed to vibrate, shaking in fear. The man leaning up against them, however, wasn't shaking in the slightest. He sat as firm as a flag pole, his back confidently resting against the support behind it. Behind midnight pits of black, two green eyes watched the bulkier figure fret himself about the room. "You have all these rules," he drawled, "and you think they'll save you." For a joker, the seriousness in his eyes was nearly enough to have a lion shaking on his own territory; And yet, for all that, they still seemed to flicker with a bright, glowing green flame of playfulness. The cat had found its ball of yarn.

The dark knight watched the painted face with caution. What was he thinking? "I have one rule," he told the Joker, their eyes locking for the very first time. Vibrations in the air shot between them, shaking each of their hearts. Neither was afraid, but they both felt it none the less.

The spell was only broken when the Joker finally shut his eyes in one swift, clearing blink. His voice broke the silence. "Then that's the rule you'll have to break to know the truth," he said, his voice taunting and even more playful than his eyes.

The bat was less amused. Far more serious. Beads of sweat like tiny bombs gathered on his upper lip. "Which is?" he hissed in response.

Though the bat man was closer than ever and looming over the sitting figure, threateningly looking as if he might be prepared to smash the Joker's face in, the Joker was unshakable. His taunting voice slithered through he airwaves once more, and this time, Batman responded. "The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight you're gonna break your one rule." Though the Joker couldn't see it through the thick, yet flexible black suit, goosebumps were raising themselves on the man's arm.

His tongue passing gracefully - like that of a wealthy man of leisure who was under great pressure and stress - over his bottom lip, Batman replied, a little more shakily than he had intended, "I'm considering it."

This was not enough to satisfy the Joker, and he made that quite clear with his own reply. "No, there's only minutes left, so you're gonna have to play my little game if you want to save one of them." Still, none of him looked shaken, stirred, or bothered in the slightest. Did the man feel stress? Could he even feel at all? Batman wasn't sure. For some reason, this one was harder to read. What was so different about him? It made him uneasy. The Joker, however, was enjoying the reaction as well as the man's insecurity.

After a moment of hesitation - one that was too long to really be safe - he reached over and pulled down the shade covering the window. Faces disappeared, and he was left alone with the Joker. When the faces were covered, lost completely from Batman's mind, he almost felt more relaxed. After all, he had control then. He must have. They were alone, and if anything should happen... well... who could prove it, if nobody saw? "Tell me what you want, Joker," Batman said, his voice quivering ever so slightly, but enough for his opponent to notice; And they were opponents, for they were, indeed, playing a game - one the bat man could hardly tell if he was winning or losing.

With a sick, bitter laugh, the Joker finally raised is eyes to meet Batman's once again. This time, his look was not playful. It was serious. "Turn the light off, Mr. Wayne," the hush voice instructed. "I want to play fair."

The hesitation here was not as long as it should have been. Really, Batman should not have been complying with the whims of an enemy. Right? But right and wrong, in a good story, are usually irrelevant. In this case here, right and wrong have very little to do with the story at all. The only moral conflict of any significance was the internal mayhem passing through the mind of Gotham's great hero. As his shaking hand finally did pull the chain to the dangling, swinging light source, he could feel his stomach heave, as if it was rebelling against Batman's own act against his conscience. When all was dark, the calm voice of the Joker slid into his ears like the smoothest of silks, in whispering tones, "Sit beside me, Batman. I'm not going to kill you." Finally, a laugh broke through his voice. This one, however, was soft, almost sad. "I don't want to kill you! What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No, no, you... you complete me..."

Bruce Wayne, Gotham's young, rich hero, felt is heart stop. As he sat down, his suit hissing softly as it slid against the concrete wall - for his will to rebel had disappeared with the light - he couldn't help but find himself looking hard through the darkness for some sort of light glowing from the Joker's eyes. But they remained hidden from him, as open as they were and as glowing as they seemed in the daylight. "H-How did you know? Why... I thought... It's not possible," the hero stammered. His protest was a weak one, for as soon as words began to slip fast his own lips, he felt a hand on his own thigh.

"Oh, no, no, no," the villain cackled, pressing his hand ever harder and closer to Batman. "It's entirely possible. Now... you like rules. So now you're going to play by mine. You do want to save them, don't you, Batman?"

Another hesitation. This one was fatal.

"Decide," the Joker demanded upon the silence. "Decide now."

"Yes, yes. Tell me what you want, damn you!"

With another vicious, deranged cackle, the Joker made the last sound any of the cops just outside the door heard the sound of their hero being slammed to the floor with a thud. All other noise was far too soft be detected by their ears. Batman and Joker alone knew what passed between them: words, touches, and all.