Thanks to my buddy kai_152 for looking this over for me :)
In my head, this Joker has Mark Hamil's voice but Arkham Origin's looks. Oh and this is not related to my other B/J oneshot.
UPDATE: Pop by my profile after you finish reading for some magnificent art by lovejoker! :D I only begged her a little bit. ❤
"I don't understand! Please, just let me go! He'll pay you, whatever you want. Just please, oh god, I don't wanna die!"
The Joker sighed theatrically. "Will someone gag her already? I don't pay you lot for brains, but you'd think one of you could rise above and show a little initiative now and again."
"Pleeaassee!" the blonde woman wailed, shaking so badly now that the chair she was tied to scraped audibly against the floor.
The Joker hunched his shoulders in irritation and threw her a glare. "Listen here, young lady," he began, stalking towards her and wagging a finger disapprovingly. "The more noise you make, the shorter your lifespan. That's the rule!"
"You can't get away with this! When he finds out-"
She cut herself off as the Joker pulled a long knife out of each pocket, Cheshire smile nearly slicing his face in half. His eyebrows flattened, eyes narrowing dangerously as he leaned over and used the gleaming blades to tap out the William Tell Overture on the armrests of her chair.
"Oh, do go on," he goaded unctuously. "I insist! It'll be much more fun this way."
"Here you go, boss." Ten feet away, one of the henchgoons held out the woman's cell phone that he'd finally managed to fish out of her purse.
The Joker strolled over and looked at the proffered device, then the knives he held in each hand. "Not enough hands, it seems... I'm just gonna, just ehm-" he plunged a knife into the man's chest, "-put that there and..." Joker plucked the phone from the minion's quavering grasp and prodded his bleeding chest with an index finger. The man fell over backwards with a loud whump. "Thank you, my good man." He peered at the phone and tapped the screen with his thumb, stepping absently on the dead man as he made his way back over to the hostage.
"Let's see here...contacts, Roman, compose message... 'help the joker is going to kill me'. Straight and to the point!" He tossed both phone and knife over his shoulders and placed his hands on his hips with an accomplished sigh. "Well. I'm off! Kill her." He turned towards the exit, whistling a festive tune.
"She's just a girl..."
The Joker froze with his hand on the door knob and inclined his head. "Your point being..." he asked silkily.
"It's just," the thug shifted his feet nervously. "I ain't never offed a woman before."
"Well I don't care! If you don't, I'll gouge your eyes out and ca-hancel your vision plan!"
The goon frowned in confusion. "We get health insurance?"
The Joker smacked an open palm to his face. "Just do it. Leave the body. And mop up your drool on the way out." He closed the door behind him just in time to muffle the shrieks within. He turned to happily survey the scene below him, spreading his hands wide. "Hiya, kiddos! Uncle Joker here to-"
He was cut off by panicked screams from the crowd below.
"Pipe down til I finish my introduction!" he snarled, grabbing a submachine gun and popping off a few rounds into the ceiling until they cowed into tearful silence. "Right. Where was I?" He raised his chin pompously. "Uncle Joker here! To turn your dismal grims into whimsical grins, eh hoohoo hahahaHAAA!"
A few people in the crowd looked confused.
"Yes, I'm using grim as a noun," he snapped with a few well placed glares. "People let Sha-hakespeare make up all SORTS of words and he had a skullet!" He patted his non-receding hairline with a deep, calming breath. "I'm here to bring a sparkle of exci-hitement to your otherwise drab and listless little lives. Oh, and to tell you about the bomb, hehe. And that you'll all be dead in aboouut..." He dragged the word out, voice rising in pitch as he checked his broken pocket watch. "Twenty minutes. Give or take half an hour or so - d'I'M not really sure, to be honest. Thrilling, isn't it?"
Silence. Hrm.
"You are now fuh-ree to panic at your leisure."
Ah. The comforting sound of a screaming mob.
He looked up instinctively to see Batman striding in as if he owned the place. Wasn't that cute?
"Bats! What kept you?"
"Late night."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your beauty rest? Your butler-alarm have a late night too? OOH, maybe you had a late night with him, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Not the best response, but it had been that kind of day.
A couple of Joker's goons tittered along with him and he glared them into silence. Normally he approved, but these jokes were reserved for the Batman, not their limited, deadened, ignorant, hollow funny bones. Anyone who laughed at flatulence lost the right to appreciate these jokes (temporarily ignoring the whoopee cushion rolled up in his back pocket). If they laughed, he was obviously slipping. He cleared his throat in embarrassment.
"Ahem. Anyway. Glad you could mmmake it. Now that you're here the sha-how can go-"
"What's your scheme, Joker," Bats interrupted rudely, and with a degree of anger that the Joker felt was frankly unwarranted at this stage.
"Sca-heme?" he asked, aghast.
"Targeting a mall isn't your usual MO."
"I'm sure what you mean to sa-hay is that's it's beneath me," he replied airily, buffing glove-covered fingernails on his coat. "Not my style." A slight twirl to flair his purple coat tails. "You may intend that as a compliment, Bats, but it hurts me that you don't find me capable of blowing up a few nuclear families to smithereens just for a couple of lighthearted poops and guffaws!"
"You don't-"
"Hurt, Bats," the Joker interrupted and clutched at his gut. "Right here," he said in a dramatically strained voice, belatedly moving his hand to his heart. A simple mistake, really. He'd had indigestion all evening. Henchmen were simply awful at making pancakes.
Bats' eyes narrowed, but Joker knew he was rolling them on the inside and mentally added a tally to his column.
They were rudely interrupted as gunfire riddled the place. Not from his guys. Outside. Probably from a chopper, based on the trajectory, cartridge size and rate of fire. The Joker cackled and shot into the air wildly before tripping over his own feet and tumbling down the stairs. He tottered back to his feet, shivering at the knowledge that a bullet could hit him OR the bombs could go off at any moment.
Was this not the life?! WHOOOO-
A strong hand grabbed his arm and tugged. He followed it in the confusion. Vestigial survival reflex, or intuitive knowledge that it was the Batman? Who knew? Regardless, he allowed himself to be pulled out of harm's way just as the staircase exploded behind them in a shower of metal and concrete. He found himself pulled into an adjoining hallway, then office, then ventilation shaft.
Joker puffed out his cheeks and held his breath with Batman as they waited for the gunfire and screaming to slow. Then stage whispered: "So, Bats. Me? Not an innocent hostage? You know they're all dead, right?"
"No, I don't," said Batbutt inanely as he dumped them both into a random office that was apparently under construction. "We have to get out of here. Soon. Thoughts?"
"Well. Between you, me and that angry looking fellow sneaking up behind you... Quite frankly, I'm worried."
Batman swirled around, cape billowing gloriously about him, Hammers of Justice at the ready, and the Joker brained him with a convenient two-by-four. Dipman fell in a lump, out cold.
"Gosh, Bats, way to be a total chump. Honestly, I'm embarrassed for you."
Of course, that's when the first bomb went off.
###
Surprisingly, only three quarters of the hostages were killed by the blast. Joker made a mental note to strangle the baboon who placed the bombs, particularly because only one went off and they were supposed to be rigged synchronously. Really though, he should have known better than to delegate such a sensitive task. Live and learn, eh?
"Oh god, why?!" a random hostage cried out after accidentally stepping into a corpse's mangled chest cavity.
The Joker perked up and made a beeline straight for him. "Ah. Nooo-ho-ho, see. The thing is," he explained helpfully, putting a comforting arm around the man's quaking shoulders, and casually pulling out a knife with the other. "I understand your confusion - but the thing is: God is currently away on busy-ness. Don't worry your cute little head though," pat-pat-pat, "I'm fielding his calls! Call it exte-hended community service. Now then, did you have a question?" he asked, face the very picture of innocence.
The man shook his head.
"A concern, perhaps?"
The man shook his head harder.
"A COMPLAINT then."
The man shook his head furiously. "No! No, no, no. No complaints."
"Excellent!" said the Joker with a magnanimous wave of his blade-wielding arm. "You won't mind if I do this, then."
He gripped the man's hand in a vice-like grip and chopped it off at the wrist. Then he shoved him away and stalked merrily across the room before his suit got irreversibly stained.
"Won't anyone give the poor guy a hand? Lord knows he could use one - eheheheehee hahahaaa...aha... heh... Too easy? I never could resist a pun."
His goons laughed dutifully and a mollified Joker waltzed over to where Batman was currently chained to the wall. The man seemed to be finally coming around. About damn time.
"I hate you so much right now," groaned Dorkus Aurelius as he weakly tested the restraints.
"Nonsense. You look adorable!" Joker flicked one of the rounded ears on Batman's new, useless cowl (which Joker had been carrying around with him for FIVE MONTHS now, for just such a moment as this). "Just like Mickey Mouse. Or is that Minnie?"
Batman frowned further. Then he lunged forward to throttle him.
"Grghkah!" the Joker gurgle/choke/laughed, making a mental note to get shorter chains (promptly forgetting the previous mental note and thus saving a minion's life). "I need an adult. I NEED AN ADULT. Chkahahahaaa - oohhh wait. That's me, isn't it."
He kneed Batman in the crotch, a valid move now that the Batjewels weren't protected by armor plating. Batman wheezed and dropped like a stone. The Joker took advantage of the moment, tweaked the flower on his lapel and conked Bats out with his knockout gas. Done and done. Take note, amateurs.
It took him an entire hour to figure out how to put on the Batsuit.
###
The Joker clomped forward in the oversized Batsuit (the man had forty pounds on him, after all) and pushed the cowl up past his eyes so he could see better. Not only were the eye-holes slightly misaligned, but the heads-up display made him nauseous. He didn't know how Batsy dealt with it. Batbelly of steel, no doubt. Whatevs, who needed it? He fiddled with the Batclaw instead.
"Oh batshit," he grumbled to himself, "how does this contraption work."
Suddenly the Batclaw went off straight into the face of an unfortunate hostage. The man screamed, hands shaking in front of him as blood and eyeball juice squirted out of the punctured sockets.
"Hrm, well I suppose it'll take some practice," Joker mused to himself. "And give that back, will you?" he said to the man angrily. "I was using that."
Joker mashed random buttons until the cord retracted and the man shrieked in agony as the claw literally ripped off his face. The newly faceless man collapsed, the crowd edging away and forming a circle around him as they tried their best to ignore his dying gurgles and wailing wife.
The Joker stared in awe at the flesh hanging off the end of the claw, absently motioning to a henchman to silence the annoying woman. "Bats?" he called tremulously without turning around. The woman's sobs cut off abruptly. A rattle of chains informed him that his nemesis had indeed awakened. "I think I love you. I'm pretty sure... No, yep. I do. We're eloping after this. I don't care what you say and I'm getting your toys in the divorce settlement."
"You're a monster," Batman snarled in disgust.
"Sue me," said the Joker darkly. "Ooh!" He brightened. "Maybe we could get Two Face to represent! Heads for you and sca-ratches for meee, ooh hoohoohoo! Ohhh, that would be a laugh and a half!"
"Master Bruce? Master Bruce?" came a tinny, British voice in his ear.
That was unexpected. His laughter cut off involuntarily. What the hell - Master Bruce...Master... Bruce Wayne? He had been just joking before about the butler!
It couldn't be.
He stalked up to Batman, ripped off the mouse mask and squinted. He made a box with his fingers and turned his head this way and that. "Bruce Wayne? No, it can't be. It can't be. Pfft, that's...boring. How anticlimactic."
Batman's eyes widened, making him look ridiculously and paradoxically innocent.
"Idiot playboy trust fund baby? Gawd, how intensely uninteresting." Joker tugged the mask angrily back down over the...the stranger's head, ignoring the grunt as Douche Wayne's nose got stuck in an eye-hole. "I am SO DISAPPOINTED in you!" he hissed through painfully gritted teeth.
And he was. He was...sad. He was honestly sad. His giggles deserted him, for the first time in... years. He was insulted. He was cheated. He should have known that no good could come of looking behind the curtain. Then Bruce growled at him. He growled like a wild animal with his lopsided mouse ears and strained against the chains and - damn it, if he still didn't look like the Reaper himself.
Impressive, given those conditions.
"JOKER!" Batman growled in a voice usually reserved to German thugs on Venom.
And then the Joker knew: Bruce Wayne was The Mask. It was so obvious! There was an instant rush of relieved pleasure as his mind latched onto the idea like a lifeline, whether it was true or not.
Crisis averted.
"No worries, Batty Boop. I won't hold your mask against you," Joker said graciously. "Water under the bridge." He walked his fingers through the air with a fond look.
Batman looked confused. Point to Joker.
"See, I understand. You're still my fa-havorite." He paired this with a winning smile, the kind that caused lesser men to soil themselves.
Batman however just looked uncomfortable, borderline bashful. A hundred points. Nay, all the points.
"Bats can't come to the phone right now," Joker said happily into the Bat-hat. There was a deliciously horrified gasp in his ear. "But if you'd like to leave a message at the sound of the scream..."
He giggled, pressed every button at once and shot the Batclaw back into the group of hostages.
Of course, that's when the second bomb went off.
###
The Joker awoke with a splitting headache to have Batman shove a lacy pink bra against his chest. Bat's other arm dangled limp and bloody by his side. He was redressed in the Batsuit, which thrilled the Joker more than he cared to admit.
"Hold this for a second," said Batsy as he crouched down to paw through the debris.
The Joker held the bra up to himself in bemusement. Were they in a lingerie store? "Appreciate the gesture, Bats, but you know I don't think it's really my si-hize."
Batman glowered and snatched it back with his good hand, using his teeth to slingshot a small piece of rubble at the button on the far wall.
"Aww, sweets," cooed the Joker as he followed Batman through the newly opened gate and into the main thoroughfare of the mall. "I didn't mean I wouldn't wear it. It's the thought that counts."
"If that were true, you'd be dead."
"This charm is effortless for you, isn't it? It just oozes out of your eh-ver-y orifice. Like pus. Or blood. Or blueberry syrup!"
"Joker."
"Yes, muffin?"
"Shut your mouth."
"Right-o. Consider this mouth officially shu-hut. Not a single solitary syllable will escape this verbal orifice of mine, this glorious gustatory-"
Batman punched him in the face.
Joker giggled and wiggled a loose tooth with his tongue as they rounded the corner and came face to face with a hapless mall-walker. She fainted dead away at the sight of them and fell in a wrinkled, neon heap.
"My word. What an unfuh-hor-tunate looking woman," the Joker commented, hand itching towards his knife as they stepped over her prone form. "Heck, a bit of disfigurement would probably do her a world of good."
"Fortunately, that's not for you to decide."
"Well, aren't you the archetypal stick in the proverbial muck."
"Joker-"
"Seriously, man! You're a stick in the mud with a stick up his arse! That's a stick within a stick. We're encroaching on mystic recursive voodoo territory here, Batsy. That's a bad sign in anyone's book. Bad news bat, to coin a turn of phra-hase. But...aw, shucks." He clasped his hands to the side and looked up at his nemesis adoringly, dramatically. This should stick in the Bat's gullet. "You know I'd follow you anywhere. I hate and love you for it."
"Joker-"
"But those are just two words for the same tha-hing, am I right? Sssay, isn't there a song about that?"
"What did I say about your mouth."
"That it's luscious?"
Batman inhaled deeply, calmingly, blatantly choosing to humor him. Point. "The other thing."
"Shut it?"
"That one."
"You know, with a daddy like Alfie I would have assumed you to have a greater se-hense of irony."
"Alfred is not my father."
"Come now, everyone knows the man raised you. You do him a disservice by saying otherwise."
"That is none of your business and..." Batman gave him a sidelong glance, "strangely insightful."
"Tcha!" Joker scoffed. "Nothing strange about it. I'm smarter than the average bat, you know! On second thought," he tapped the side of his chin thoughtfully, "you probably don't. Me? I'm a sco-holar, baby!" He spread his hands wide as he struck a majestic pose. "Caco ergo sum! I poop, therefore... I AM."
"Mouth," Batman prompted through gritted teeth.
"Stapled." It was much harder to mime a staple gun than a zipper. Who knew?
A few minutes passed. The silence bothered him. He squealed and leapfrogged over Batman's head, shoving Bat's face down into his chest. Batman struggled to regain his footing and glowered to the distant wall but didn't speak, didn't look, just continued walking. The Joker counted it as a success and suffered the continued silence in far better humor. After a few minutes, they rounded another corner to find a floor-to-ceiling pile of rubble. Upon closer inspection, the majority of rubble actually turned out to be the ceiling. Suffice to say, there would be no going that way.
"Through here," said Batman, leading them through a small side door. They entered a long white corridor, fluorescent lights flickering feebly above them with a dull buzz. Doors lined either side. "Let's split up, find an exit." He disappeared through a door on the left.
The Joker shrugged, opened the first door on the right and nearly walked into a wide-eyed security guard. He reached out and snapped the man's neck with lightening speed, daintily stepping over the corpse and tilting down to grab the man's nightstick as he passed. "Pardon me." He sashayed through an office and opened another door on the far end. The next room appeared to be a locker/lunch room and there was another guard, this one standing with his back turned. Joker paused as the man spoke without turning.
"I noticed yer still leavin' y'gear all over da break room, ya slob."
"Well now isn't that funny. I noticed that too!"
"Listen up, wise guy," the security guard turned with a sneer, eyes widening and mouth dropping open in horror as the Joker stuck out a hip and twirled his new police baton saucily. "J-jo-j-j-jok-j-j-"
"I believe the words you're looking for are: Jumpin' Jehoshaphat! It's the Jolly Green Joker! Here to joyously juggle your internal organs and...and...hmm." He paused to feign an air of deep contemplation. "My, but J-words are hard, aren't they?" He shrugged. "Ah well." Then he smiled brightly, jumped on the man and savagely beat him to a quivering pulp. Actually, that last quiver may have been a death-twitch. Hard to tell sometimes. You'd think he'd have an eye for this sort of thing by now.
"Oh, Batsyyy! Through here!"
Batman strode in with a definite wobble, looking from the fresh corpse to the Joker with instant suspicion. Blast it, sometimes he really needed to give the guy more credit.
Time to think fast.
"Gee, Larry," said the Joker loudly, poking the dead man in the back. "You don't look so hot. I told you not to eat that enchilada."
"Haven't you done enough?" Batman sounded more tired than angry. "Leave him alone."
"Don't look at me! I told him that place had health code violations. All that blood in the cheese frying bin-cooker-things. What are those called, Bats? I've always wondered. Well..." he muttered under his breath, "since about five seconds ago."
"Will you just - get over here and help me!"
"You know what your problem is, Bats?" The Joker dug a toe under the corpse and flipped it over. "No desire to learn about the world around you. Take this fine fe-hellow, for instance." He crouched down and hooked his fingers under the man's lips, pulling them back into a gruesome grimace.
"Stop talking."
"Notice the discoloration of the gum line? Our friend Larry here had a nasty case of gingivitis. This ought to teach us a val-yoo-able lesson on the importance of good dental hygiene." He proclaimed this sagely, removing his fingers and patting the dead cheek so roughly that the head turned 90 degrees.
He looked up to catch Batman's reaction but the man was ignoring him, grunting and huffing as he struggled to wrench open the metal doors with one hand.
"Please, allow ME," said the Joker, hip-bumping him out of the way so hard that Batman lurched backwards and fell into a conveniently placed chair.
Joker rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side. He made a huge show of cracking his knuckles, lacing them in front of himself and arching his back. He spat on his palms and rubbed them together. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw determinedly and... leaned over to press a large red button on the wall. The doors slid smoothly open. There was a loud thump as Batman let his head fall onto the table.
The Joker ignored him and pranced malevolently through the doorway, only to receive a police baton three inches away from rupturing an eardrum. He spent the next minute or so attempting to ignore the ringing in his head and admiring the surprisingly high quality grout work. When he managed to both raise his head and focus on what he was seeing, it was to the image of Batman with his good hand on the guard's throat, pressing him against the wall so that his feet dangled a good six inches above the floor.
The man raised his hands. "I give up!"
"I don't care."
SMASH - thump.
Batman swept away as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, hurrah!" The Joker clapped wildly as he mustered himself into a sitting position. "Encore, encore! Break his neck - I mean, er, a leg - I mean...oh, dash it all. KILL HIM!" Only the Batman had the ability to make him this flustered.
"No."
The Joker frowned resentfully, stood and stomped on the unconscious man's head when Batman's back was turned. Batman glowered dangerously when he glanced back, but Joker stuck his nose in the air and sailed regally past him. Or he would have if he hadn't noticed Batman's steps falter. His predatory pal swayed dangerously and the Joker reached out automatically with a steadying hand.
Batman shoved it off with a snarl. "Don't need your help," he growled and then immediately fell over.
Joker rolled his eyes and helped him to his feet, rolling them again as Batman puffed up ridiculously and instantly retook the lead, though moving noticeably slower than before.
"We'd better clear the blast zone before the next bomb goes off," said the Joker conversationally.
Batman stopped dead in his tracks. Joker bounced off him and fell right on his ass.
"Oof. Mind the caboose!"
"What next bomb."
"Didn't I mention? Huh. Could've sworn you were there for that bit."
"Where did you put it. How much time do we have."
"Oh, honeybee, these bombs aren't mine. Scouts honor! Cross my butt and hope to fry, stick some arsenic in my pie!" He grinned darkly. "And then have a piece."
"For all I know, you'll leave me to burn while you escape. I want answers."
"Now, Bats, don't play dumb. It's unattractive. I pull my endearing pranks, you hem and haw, we play our little games and it's just some good wholesome fun between friends! When slice comes to dice, you know I would never actually kill you. How could I?" He finally made eye contact, demeanor turning uncharacteristically solemn. "Out of everyone, you're the closest to getting the joke."
Batman seemed speechless for a moment, electric-blue gaze flicking from one acid-green eye to the other, before quickly recovering. "You didn't answer my question."
Joker huffed. "They are strewn throughout the facility and to be honest, I thought they were all going off with the first. If you die here, Batsy, so do I. So I would advise a speedy blinking retreat. Onwards! To honorable victory, my fair knight!"
Batman narrowed his eyes.
"Damn you, I'm serious! Now is not the time for dignity! Run awaaayy!" The Joker stared his nemesis down with wide, open eyes, lifting an arm and leg to mime his words.
Batman seemed to get the message and spun around to stride forward with honor, determination and great swiftness.
###
"Why hasn't the next bomb gone off yet."
"Chalk it up to the depressingly expected result of employee incompetence," the Joker scoffed.
"I see." Six and a half minutes of silence. "How did you know about Alfred."
"Did my homework. I was going to kidnap you a couple of years ago. Hijacked the train you were on and the funniest thing happened. As soon as I get on the PA, Bruce Wayne disappears and Batman shows up. Guess I was too distracted to notice the connection."
###
"Bats! I think I see an exit! Mayhap! I shall investigate forthwith!" The Joker dashed on ahead, ignoring Batman's cries for him to stop, to wait, to slow down.
He rounded two corners and burst into a dimly lit room. There was a loud click behind him. The Joker slowly turned around to see a cop with the word SWAT emblazoned on his bulletproof vest, a police baton in one hand and a pistol in the other. Pointed right at his head.
The man advanced on him. "The big man sure ain't happy with you, clown. Why you gotta always go after his women?"
"Now, now," Joker wheedled, hands held up placatingly in front of him. "Let's talk about this, shall we? A civilized discussion. I'm sure we can come to some sort of an arrangeme-"
A disorienting thwack to the side of his head dropped him to his knees. Geez, why always with the ears?
"This is for stalkin' his girl." The blows rained down and he fell to his stomach, feebly trying to push himself up with his hands, laughter bubbling out of him involuntarily. "This is for offin' his girl." A cracking blow to the back dropped him flat, followed by a blur of backhands and forehands to his legs as he laughed harder and tried to curl in on himself. "And this, well." The SWAT officer sneered down at him with a malicious glint to his eyes. "This is just 'cause I can, you sick fuck."
More vicious blows to the legs and back, intending to maim, to break, to cleave. Over and over and over and over and over again, the rhythm infuriating in its unrelenting predictability, anticipation nearly worse than the actual strike. The Joker's hysteric laughter evolved into giggle-gurgles as his lungs began to expel blood along with air.
At least the buffoon was leaving the money-maker unscathed. Odd, that. People generally seemed to enjoy hitting him in the face. Joker was just debating whether or not to give in to unconsciousness when there was the sound of rustling fabric and the attack suddenly stopped. He groaned and lifted his head a few inches to check the damage. Judging by the odd angles, protruding bits of bone and blinding pain, the Joker felt it was safe to assume his legs were shattered into useless little pieces. This revelation might require him to elevate the threat level a bit. The status of Mission ESCAPE just got officially downgraded from 'Already Gone' to 'Tricky'.
"Why are you after the Joker," growled Batman to the SWAT officer, who was being held predictably against the wall with a firm hand around his throat.
"Black Mask put a bounty on him - hrrk - 60 mil for his...his head and 75 alive," the man wheezed.
"Black Mask."
"Lemme go and I'll split it witcha! Hell, you can have it all! You done mosta the work already."
"The bounty. WHY."
"I dunno, I swear! Does there hafta be a why? It's the Joker, man! Who gives a shit!"
Batman's eyes narrowed to icy slits, apparently fed up with all this bullshit. "I do." He squeezed.
The Joker watched in awe. Threat level officially decreased.
Batman squeezed until the man stopped moving. Then he squeezed some more. Then he abruptly let go and turned away to cross the room, staring down into the corner with rhythmically clenching fists. Joker crawled to where the man dropped and felt for a pulse. He didn't find one.
"No pulse..." he whispered in awe. "He's dead... Bats?" he asked tentatively, not sure how to proceed now that he'd actually won. It was so casual, so sudden. He couldn't process it. Instead of the elation he'd always imagined, suddenly all he tasted was fear, a foreign flavor he could do without. What if it ruined everything? What if Batman quit playing?
Batman straightened and stilled at the sound of the other man's voice, apparently taking it as final confirmation that, yes, that actually just happened. He turned to face the Joker, features impassive.
"This changes nothing."
The Joker grew a slow, broad smile that he didn't feel. "Yeah. Right. And I'm a monkey's masseuse. Come on, that way," he said, pointing to the door on the left.
Batman stared blankly for a moment before picking Joker up bridal style and going through the left door. "You knew about this didn't you," the Killer Bat asked finally.
"That you love me? Darling, I've always known." Joker leaned back in Batman's arms with a gusty sigh and did his best to twiddle his broken legs. The pain was worth the irritated glance down.
"About the bounty on your head."
"Ah. I may have stumbled upon it whilst picking the ol' grapevine."
"And the bombs were bait to lure me here so that I could protect you."
"Kudos, Bats! Way to use the old noggin!" he crowed, rapping the side of Batman's head with his knuckles. Probably best not to mention the fact that he'd tracked Sionis' innocent ladyfriend here and had her killed in cold blood. Bats tended to get huffy over things like that.
Still, one has to show these crime bosses that you don't just put a hit out on the Joker and remain unscathed. There are always, always consequences.
Batman scowled and squinted an eye, jerking his head away from that pale, bloody hand. "I should have known."
"Captain Hindsight always did know best. Now vamanos, Battyguard!"
Batman obeyed in silence for a few minutes. Until: "Wait. If that's true, including the line about me 'getting the joke', then why were you trying to kill me earlier."
"I do have an image to maintain. Also I find it rather invigorating."
Batman sighed deeply and trudged on.
###
"Come on, Baaats. Talk to me."
Nothing.
Oh, this was maddening. Here he had finally won this fateful clash of theirs, this cosmic jousting match. Sweet beautiful soul-fulfilling victory was HIS. But dark dribbling damnation if it didn't feel like the exact opposite. It felt like the game was over. Batman. Wasn't. PLAYING anymore. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! He gritted his teeth and seethed. Deep down, he knew what he had to do. It took him twenty minutes to spit it out.
"You know you didn't kill that guy back there," he lied, immediately feeling sick.
Batman faltered in his movements. "What?" he asked hoarsely.
"You honestly thought you killed him? Puh-lease. You give yourself far too much credit."
"But... his pulse. You said-" Batman cut himself off as he realized what a horrible defense he was about to make. "You... You lied."
"Well, partially. He really was dead. It's just that I killed him when your back was turned. To-hotaly had you going though, didn't I?"
Sweet Dahmer, it physically hurt to speak. But, of course, he always was the stronger one. He'd play the martyric villain to protect his Batsy's innocence. At least, if it assured the game would go on. Hell, he'd take the blame for a thousand kills if it meant that the Batman was still his. One had to prioritize, after all. Since Bats had just killed a man to essentially protect his honor (a bit too Light Knight for his taste, but best not look a gift equine in the pie hole), it was safe to say his instincts about the Bat and their 'relationship' was spot on.
Bats would kill. And not even the Joker, ohoho no. No, it was far, FAR better than that. He would kill FOR the Joker, to protect him. To protect him. Essentially, he would kill whoever Joker wanted him to. Because let's face it: if there was one thing the Joker was good at, it was inciting homicidal wrath from dangerous people at will. All he had to do was say the right words, smile the right smile, plant the right bombs and BLAMO.
Angry Bat. Dead mark.
Ohhh, it was heady stuff. No doubt about that. All he had to do was ensure that Batbaby thought it was Joker doing the killing. All this rationalizing was good for the soul. He felt better already.
###
"Batsy, isn't your arm broken or shredded or something?"
A grunt.
"You don't have to carry me like some distressed damsel. We are in a mall, you know. Find a shopping cart. I already know how manly you are, you have nothing to prove."
Batman faltered in his movements and then instantly made a beeline for the nearest store.
"Batsy," he continued babbling. Anything was better than the silence. "I have something very serious to ask of you." He could literally feel bright blue eyes turning down. "You know it's not like me to ask you for aaanything, so I hope you'll bear in mind how difficult this is for me. Batman. Will you...be my valentine?"
He was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. Only his previous life experiences and slightly masochistic nature (cough) prevented him from passing out from the pain.
"I'll take that as a yes," he whispered hoarsely to himself.
Then Batman picked him up and unceremoniously dumped him into a shopping cart. His piecemeal legs twisted agonizingly beneath him and he passed out.
###
"Where are we?" he asked as soon as he realized he was awake, before opening his eyes or taking stock of his body.
"Almost to Arkham."
The Joker could hear the telltale rattle of a shopping cart on asphalt, the squeak and pull of the solitary rebel wheel, and decided not to bother opening his eyes. "Why..." he managed.
"Safest place for you."
He laughed humorlessly. "You really think I'll be there tomorrow?"
"You'll be well guarded."
"Well guarded? Batbabe, I've taken over that place in a single night. And I'm helpless right now. The entire city is gunning for me. You really think the odds of my guards smothering me in my sleep or my doctor accidentally euthanizing me are that low? Not to mention the actual residents themselves."
Batman stayed silent and stubbornly continued on.
Joker tried a different tactic. "So this is it, huh?" he asked casually. "You're finally going to kill me. But you're too sensitive to do it yourself. Oho, no. Just leave it to the nice staff and residents of Arkham. I understand, I do! It's clean, indirect. Heck, you can even tell yourself it's not your fault, if you want to! Pah-retty smart, I'll give you that."
The cart began to slow down almost imperceptibly.
"Still, have to say I'm disappointed. Personally, I prefer more direct, stare-into-their-eyes methods. But hey. To each their own. I'm a big enough man to acknowledge your victory for what it is. It's been fun, Batman. I wouldn't have traded it for anything."
As he'd anticipated, the cart gradually slowed to a complete stop. He would have belted out a decent victory cackle if he didn't currently require that energy to breathe.
"Damn it," Batman swore under his breath.
Despite the automatic elation of hearing Bats curse for the first time, Joker couldn't deny that it was intensely disconcerting.
"Batman...?"
"Where's your base. You need a doctor. Do you have one?"
The Joker was stunned. Completely and royally astonished. This he had not anticipated.
"I do, in fact... You may have heard of the Last Laugh Foundation..."
There was an ear splitting squeak as the cart spun around on its hind wheels.
"I should have known."
"It's completely overrun by Sionis' vermin, of course. Hence the necessity for today's events."
The cart stopped once again.
"Bats?"
Silence.
Joker cracked an eye open. Batman seemed to be having a pretty intense argument with himself. Fifteen seconds later, the cart turned in a new direction, full speed ahead.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Home."
Poor Joker, I keep making him pass out all the time in my stories. I guess I just like the idea of Batsy staring at him mournfully in his sleep and lugging him around everywhere :3
Feedback is appreciated!