The night had a sick air to it and the entire city knew why. Joker was at it again, only, this time, he didn't just want the Bat to go after him, he wanted a full-blown chase. The Jester seemed restless lately, not even giving warning or threats out to the city or Batman. At random intervals of the day, even striking past dusk, he'd do something. Whether it was major or not seemed to be dependent on his mood.
At times he did nothing more than a petty thieving, something the G.C.P.D could handle easily. Other times weren't so lucky. And it seemed like he did the worst after dusk and right before dawn, the times when Batman, or better said, Bruce Wayne was trying to sleep off the day beforehand. And naturally, since it was Joker, it was Batman's job to take care of.
So, Bruce grudgingly got up from his comfy, inviting bed, and trudged, muttering curses towards Joker under his breath, to the Batcave. Once there, Bruce re-dressed himself in his suit, before sleepily entering the Tumbler, starting it, and taking off into the waking Gotham.
But Gotham wanted to continue to sleep, normally the sun would be rising at this time, yet, it was hidden behind a curtain of grey storm clouds, and the threatening, beginning of smog. And the smog was layering over the streets, in a dense, sick grey, just waiting for its next victim, but that was Batman's sleep deprived thought warning him of upcoming danger.
Indeed, it was the danger, something that Bruce was all too well acquainted with. It was stupid of him to go out without proper sleep, but Gotham needed him, and he is damned if he wasn't going to do something.
Joker had taken residence next to the current school he was threatening to blow up. His legs swinging above the ground, police down below, Jim Gordon had called for the Bat, as Joker had requested. Jim had refused at first, but when Joker waved the detonator around, as laugh leaves his lips, Gordon did as he was told.
Bruce, getting out of his upgraded car, gave a quick nod to Jim, too tired to do anything more than necessary. Using his grappling gun, he jumped onto the roof of the building, next to Joker, his voice laced with annoyance. Bruce wanted to sleep and Joker's outbreaks are keeping him from that goal.
"Don't you sleep?" He grumbled, his voice lower than natural. He wasn't in the mood to be his broody self and Joker noticed.
"Don't have a bed, Bats." His painted face split into an amused grin, showing off his sharpened teeth. He's been biting again. Bruce noted to himself, it's a habit he's been trying to rid his counterpart of for ages now. But what really unsettled Bruce, was the sincerity of his statement.
"Really?" He questioned before he could stop himself. Joker chuckled, shaking his head no before he gave a sing-song reply.
"Aw, Bat, you care." He placed his free hand on his chest like he was surprised, overly dramatically so. Bruce didn't have enough self-restraint to stop himself from rolling his eyes; so he did, shaking his head tightly afterwards. "You do!" Joker sounded genuinely surprised,at his sudden realization.
Bloody idiot. Bruce muttered to himself silently.
"Well, since you seem to be in a bad mood, how 'bout we go our separate ways and call it a day?" Joker hummed.
God, yes, please. "No, not until you're back in Arkham," Bruce growled. He wasn't in the mood, he wanted to sleep, and Joker was slowing irritating him; as shown by his clenching jaw.
Joker just huffed, before continuing to hum the silent rhythm, only the Clown knew. He sat for a few moments, just humming before he brought the detonator up to his eyes.
"Ah, how about a little fun, Batsy?" He questioned, his thumb tracing over the edge of the red button. Bruce instinctively reached out and gripped Joker's arm, the one with the detonator in hand.
"Don't." He merely said. Joker's emerald orbs looked up at forget-me-not blue eyes of Bruce. His lower, covered in red, lip pressed out slightly, in a small pout.
"But, Batsy." Joker whined, pulled out of Bruce's grasp, his other hand reaching up to rub the now bruised area. He didn't wince, but his actions we're making the burnt skin worse.
"Joker." Bruce warned, taking a step forward his shadow covering the male.
The sun was winning the fight against the darkened clouds, a few rays of the warm sunlight peeking out from behind, shining against Bruce's back, making his shadow even longer. He shoots a glare from under his cowl, trying to tell the Joker to back off, without words.
Joker didn't get the hint, instead, he gave a giggle, before quickly hitting the red button.
"No!" Bruce called, reaching out to grab the hand that pressed the damn button.
And for three agonizing seconds nothing, absolutely nothing but silence rang in Bruce's ears; and for two of the three second he thought that Joker was bluffing, but then the loud ring of an explosion hit his ears, like a sledgehammer. The school was gone and so was anyone inside. Bruce closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat, but then he realized something. That explosion was too small.
So, redundantly Bruce opened his eyes, before looking over at the fire. As his eyes latched onto a small, empty car in the parking lot of the school, it was thrown backwards, upside down, and engulfed in flames; he also heard hysterical laughter.
Joker was laughing, it wasn't a mocking laugh, but a genuinely amused laughter.
"You should have seen your face!" He breathed out between fits of laughter. Bruce, or more correctly, Batman growled. A deeply irritated growl, left his lips, before his hands gripped onto Joker's shoulders, them bouncing with every giggle. His fingers dug into the bony skin, making Joker silence, and look at him. "Oh come on Bats, it was nothing more than a method to get to you." He grinned, his face looking even more sinister.
Batman glared, before turning the male, taking out a zip tie. He bound Joker's wrist, before wrapping an arm around his waist. Jumping down, next to the police, his cape stopping his plummet, Joker was then shoved into the hands of a police officer.
It's been a week since then, both Arkham and Joker have been silent, asking nothing from Batman, which, to Bruce's liking, allowed him some much-needed rest. Alfred made him his favorites and excellent tea. They sat in complete silence and it was nice.
Until the 10th day without incident caused Bruce to worry. Joker's broken out of Arkham in 24 hours before, and on Batman's nightly watch, there hasn't been anything either. It's like all of Gotham's most dangerous disappeared in the blink of an eye.
He's planning something. Bruce thought. Something big. And as Batman grappled to another building, nearby, the cable snapped with the loud sound of a gunshot. And Batman, came falling to the ground unprepared. Landing on his back, he groaned, but the swing of a baseball bat against his temple silenced him, knocking him unconscious.
When he awoke he was bound to a chair, an overhead light casting blinding light upon his, thankfully still masked face. Looking around his eyes had to adjust to the darkened room around him. His breath was taken from him when a scarecrow mask appeared very quickly in front of him. The wearer of said mask, craned their neck to look at Batman; their ice blue eyes being the only thing about the face that could be seen.
"Crane." Batman growled. Jonathan Crane, a former Doctor at Arkham. With a click of his tongue Scarecrow picked up a syringe, inside was a green looking liquid.
"Where am I?" Batman question, somewhat glad that no one else had captured him, as he knew Crane was willing to talk to him.
"Arkham." Scarecrow responded, flicking the syringe, before sterilizing it.
"Why am I here?" Batman asked, watching the needle as Crane walked around the room, grabbing objects off the counters, before gathering them, then washing his hands.
"The Clown requested that I bring you in." Crane responded, pulling off his mask. Bruce has seen Scarecrow's face before, his glasses and blue eyes reminding him of Clark Kent. Shaking his head he retorted.
"Since when did you start taking orders from Joker?" Crane glared at Bruce, stalking up to him, before forcefully pulling his head, leaving his neck exposed.
"I don't take orders from that madman." He responded, wiping a disinfectant and sterilizer across Bruce's neck. His gloved hands poked and prodded at his neck for a moment, before finding a suitable vane. "Don't worry this won't kill or hurt you." Crane reassured, before plunging the needle into the area he picked. "I'm doing this because Joker knows I'm still using my "unconventional" means as a doctor and Arkham is willing to take me back. This is to get my job back and keep that maniac silent."
Bruce's hands clenched around the chair he was contained in. He hissed in pain, as Crane injected the liquid, before pulling the needle out and cleaning the bleeding area.
"All this is, is a concentrated version of my fear gas, it's meant to give you hallucinations at random intervals. As I am to question you, I needed an edge, to make sure you cooperated." Crane smiled softly, watching as Batman's blue eyes became foggy, it would stay in his system for three hours before needing another injection.
Bruce watched as Scarecrow put his mask back on and he looked odd with the rest of his outfit, only with a lab coat on underneath. However, Scarecrow still had his scythe with him, as Bruce noticed when Crane picked it up from a corner in the room. Leaning against the handle of the weapon, Bruce realized that he was in for a long night. It was only 8 when he left as Batman.
"What time is it?" Batman asked with a sigh.
Crane looked down at a wristwatch on my left arm. "9:30." Crane responded nonlocality.