Warning: The following story has no plot whatsoever, and makes absolutely no sense. If you like random rubbish, then – Enjoy! If not, then – Goodbye!
Batman – Flying Bitch-slap
'Come on, come on! I want you to do it! I want you to do it, hit me! HIT ME!' The Joker's voice had risen from an inaudible murmur to a furious yell, directed at the oncoming vigilante, all while shoot an automatic machine gun at random pedestrians. The Batman, who was close enough to hear the Joker's screams, naturally, complied, being the helpful (if not somewhat creepy) person that he was. Seconds before hitting the painted madman with his Batpod, he jumped into the air with strength he most definitely didn't possess fifteen seconds before, and descended upon the Joker like a, well, a bat. With his amazing hero skills, his arm swung round, and –
'FLYING BITCH-SLAP!' Batman screamed (although, it wasn't a scream, as he had his 'tough' voice on), as the Joker was sent spinning several feet backwards, clutching his cheeks in shock and pain. He had absolutely no idea what was going on.
'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!' He yelled in confusion. Told you so. The Batman landed without faltering, spinning around and standing up, and basically looking very cool. He spared the Joker a glance, followed by his upper lip curling into a sneer, before walking away slowly. This was soon followed by the truck behind him blowing up without warning or reason, causing his cape to billow as he walked slowly away, making look even cooler, as though he were in some unoriginal action movie.
'Booyah'.
Gordon – Over-protective father Bitch-slap.
'I need to know which of my men I can trust' Gordon pleaded. He had just found out that Harvey had in fact survived his predicament, and at first had been elated to discover this; he then discovered that not only had Dent been horrifically injured (something which he hoped he would never have to 'discover' again), but also the love of his life had been killed because his men had tied her up in the warehouse (and that she died because he had not arrived in time). Things did not bode well. He hoped that Dent would at least try to put the events behind him and help Gordon out.
'Why would you listen to me now?' Damn. Looks like things weren't going to go that smoothly. But Gordon was very sorry for what happened; it wasn't his fault! Sort of…He tried to express these feelings to Harvey –
'I'm sorry, Harvey' And he meant it. Unfortunately, Dent didn't think so. He turned, showing his gruesomely scarred face to Gordon – so much for never seeing the scars again – and said,
'No. No you're not. Not yet' Hold on – was that a threat? As in, he was going to make Gordon feel sorry for what he did, by hurting those close to him? He thought of Barbara, sitting at home, with the kids. Only one other thought crossed his mind: Oh, no he didn't'.
'OVER-PROTECTIVE FATHER BITCH-SLAP!' Before Dent knew what was coming, he had been bitch-slapped across the face by Gordon. Hard. And it hurt. The pain was probably a hundred times as painful as it should have been, seeing as Gordon had hit the injured side of his face. After the initial shock of being hit – no – bitch-slapped by a supposedly calm and collected police officer had worn off, the pain just increased ten-fold.
'THAT'LL teach you to threaten my family, you piece of crap!' Gordon yelled, losing any shred of dignity he had left. He stormed out of the room, accompanied by some very, very astonished police officers, leaving Dent screaming in pain, clutching his face (which just added to the pain), wishing now that he had taken medication.
The Joker – Multiple Bitch-slap
The two henchmen marched in, carrying what was clearly a body wrapped in plastic garbage bags, silently dumping it on the pool table so Gamble could see it. For further confirmation that this was the body of the freak that had insulted him so callously several days earlier. He ripped of the bag that was covering the head, and saw that it was, indeed, the body of the Joker, his ever-present and never-ending smile illuminated in the dim light. Seeing this was worth giving up five hundred thousand dollars. He turned to the mercenaries,
'Dead? That's five hundred.' Almost as soon as he said this, he heard a rustling noise, soon followed by what seemed to be a war cry of some kind;
'MULTIPLE BITCH-SLAP!' Gamble whirled around, only to see his henchmen, who were previously standing on either side of the pool table, spinning to the sides of the room, crashing into nearby chairs, clutching their faces in pain, as well as the clown springing towards him like a jack-in-the-box. The Joker grabbed his face and said, in a small but terrifying voice: 'Wanna know how I got these scars?' Gamble was frozen in fear, despite not seeing any weapon of any kind in the Joker's hands. 'You see, my father waaaas…a drinker – and a fiend. One night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy trys to bitch-slap him in self defence – he doesn't like that. Not. One. Bit. So! Me watching, he bitch-slaps her, laughing as he does it. He turns to me and says,' Gamble still couldn't move, even though he could probably kill this clown in about five seconds flat. Not out of fear – he just wanted to hear the rest of the story, ' "Why, so, serious?" He comes at me, a mad look in his eye; "why so serious?" He raises his hand, poised to strike – "Lets bitch-slap that frown off your face!" Aaaaaaannnd…then I was bitch-slapped onto a pile of razorblades, which gave me these scars' He added as an afterthought. And with that, Gamble was bitch-slapped out of the door, into oblivion.
The Joker, having told his scar story, and bitch-slapped three people within five minutes, saw no use for anyone else in the room – so he pulled a six-foot long chain gun out of his back pocket and completely massacred everything in sight – including the pool table. He then walked out with a smile on his face. You know what I mean.
Alfred the Awesome – Ultimate Bitch-slap
'People are dying, Alfred, what would you have me do?' Bruce Wayne asked his butler, in an emotionless monotone. The stress from the Joker's threats had apparently taken away Bruce's ability to show any kind of feeling unless he's the Batman.
'Endure, Master Wayne,' Alfred replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, 'They'll hate you for it – but that's the point of the Batman. He can make the choice that no-one else can make: the right choice.' He hoped that Bruce would – it would be rather irritating to wipe out any press/cops that came barging in, hoping to arrest him. Also, Alfred wanted to take a ride in the Tumbler, and he could only do that if it was locked away.
'Well, I found out what the Batman can't do – he can't endure this.' Shit. He really wanted to ride in the Tumbler. Maybe he could sneak a ride before it was locked away – or make up a story about Fox wanting him to test it, to make sure it worked on elderly people. Not likely. Well then, there was only one thing to do, if he wanted to have a go in the armoured car. And he really did.
'ULTIMATE BITCH-SLAP!' Bruce, in the middle of his next monotonous speech with only a small hint of facial expression, did not expect to be bitch-slapped by his butler. He had barely had time to register this, though, before he was knocked unconscious. For this was not an ordinary bitch-slap; this was an ultimate bitch-slap. By Alfred the Awesome. These two components combined were almost unthinkable. Bruce Wayne was sent flying, hitting the ground several times like a pebble skipping on water, before colliding with the solid concrete wall, leaving a Bruce-shaped dent several feet thick.
Alfred, who just realized he had all but killed his master, saw this as the time to escape. He saw that the Tumbler had appeared from nowhere – so he decided to escape and relive his dream at the same time. He jumped in the air while doing several back flips, while pressing the remote to open the car, and putting on a stylish pair of sunglasses. He landed in the drivers seat of the Tumbler as stylishly as his sunglasses, put it in gear, closed the roof, and swerved off all in one go, the tyres screeching as he shot of into the distance (ignoring the fact that he was underground, in a concrete bunker).
A/N: I have absolutely no idea why I wrote this. I just did.