Ch1
Batman's mouth twitched to form a smirk. He has the Joker where he wanted him. With him. In the cave. His cave. His clown. Now Gotham is safe, and it's prized madman locked up deep underground.
A gloved hand brushes across a scarred cheek. Mine. The Joker shifted his head, and Batman's eye twitched.
The Joker is like a flame. He burns Gotham and he burns everything Batman has ever stood for, everything he has ever loved. He reduces them to ashes an rise from said ashes. He strokes the cheek again. After all, his one rule is objective concerning the Joker. As long as Bruce does not kill the clown, and he has no intention of doing so.
The clown is currently unconscious and strapped to a mattress bolted to the floor of a padded room. A room Bruce has built in secret, away from the prying and concerned eyes of Alfred. Alfred is the last thing that Batman cares for, anymore.
Batman pulls himself out of his train of thought and picks up a newly made shock collar that he picked up from certain criminal elements of Gotham (That he beats up and leaves for the police.)
Batman frowns when he snaps the collar on the madman's neck. He never approved of such methods, but he does need something to control the jester with if he ever gets away. Not like that is very likely, but the Joker is always resourceful. Besides, the Joker is different.
Batman leaves the room, locking the door from the outside. The Joker is too drugged when he dragged him here. He parts with the suit and retreats back to the manor.
Bruce feels disorientated as he walks towards his bedroom. Clutching his head, the billionaire realises that sometime after he finishes his patrol and before he is back in the cave, his memories becomes fuzzy and out of reach. No matter, as long as justice is served and the city is safe.
The Joker opens his eyes, surveying his surroundings. Padded cell, Body, strapped. Hand, arms, legs, even his fucking fingers, all strapped, and there appears to be something around his neck. He grinds his teeth and licks his lips. Someone has removed his paint and forced mouth wash and toothpaste down his throat.
That someone has also managed to snap a collar around his neck. The Joker growls and tries to struggle out of his bindings, but with no results, he settles. This person, has the audacity to collar and bind him like some animal.
He shifts around restlessly. Boredom taking over his mind, Joker tries to, again, escape his restraints with no results. It was early in the morning before he falls asleep, the drug in his body still not fully gone.
When Bruce wakes up that morning, he has an inkling that some thing is horribly, horribly wrong. He eats, but the food tastes like dead ash in his mouth.
"Are you sure you are all right, master Bruce?" Alfred frowns at his charge. He has been seeming a little out of it these days, especially when he finishes patrol as the Batman.
"Mhm. I'm fine." Bruce stares out of the window. He spent the rest of the day at work, with a small, nagging voice at the back of his mind suggesting that something is wrong.
"Go away." He says to the air, slumping over his chair.
"Excuse me?!" An annoyed voice spoke up. Bruce lifts his head from the table to see the red-headed head of conservation, Pamela Isley, glaring at him. He mumbles an apology and she huffs, but turns away, right before Bruce slams his head back down on the table again.
When Bruce can finally call it a day and head home, the nagging voice at the back of his mind still loud and clear and as annoying as ever. He knows that something is off, that he has forgotten something important.
He shakes off that feeling and heads home.