My feet pounded on the pavement. I could hear the footsteps behind me, nearly on top of me. Gotham would be a great place to hide. Its huge, you'll get lost in it instantly.
Bullshit.
The footsteps of my pursuers grew louder and more insistent. Shit, shit, shit … Four years at Langley and this was how it was going to end … in a dark alleyway being chased by faceless pursuers. Shit. I no longer had any idea where I was, not that it mattered anyways. The dark, damp alleyways were beginning to look identical.
"What were you thinking …." I heard a voice growl round the corner. It was dark, sinister, but it was someone else. They wouldn't kill me with witnesses. They wanted a smooth assassination … things had gone wrong from the start. It was in that moment I thanked whatever Gods had given me my sense of balance, or lack thereof. Blood was still running down my cheek, the bullet hadn't landed near my heart, but it had caused some undesirable damage.
I skidded around the corner, nearly slipping to the ground in a puddle of grease. It took me all of three seconds to analyze the situation. A large van was parked next to me, hiding me from the two people on the other side. I spared a glance at the two men and it was obvious they weren't going to save me. One man was on the floor, bleeding profusely from his ear … or what used to be his ear. The small, round object told me it was no longer connected to his head. He was whimpering uncontrollably, begging for mercy. The man above him cackled and growled something in return. His purple coat furrowed around him and the green tinge of his hair was barely visible in the streetlamps. Again the man in purple growled at the earless man, he cringed away yet again. In a sudden flash of movement and screams, blood splattered against the wall. The smell was overpowering and the grisly pattern made it even worse.
Shit. Shit. Shit. And to think just an hour ago I had been cursing about losing at poker … I watched the Joker stand up and admire his handywork. The man's head was hanging grotesquely, not quite decapitated. The slit along his neck stretched and made me wince just looking at it. In that moment, the blood trickling down my cheek and staining my shirt didn't seem so bad.
You'll end up with the man if you don't do something, and quick. My mind chastised me for hesitating. The Joker was already standing up, preparing to get back in the car. Me first. I thought. The car door was unlocked – why wouldn't it be? He had been less than ten feet away from it the entire time. I opened the door and scrambled inside of it. Shit. Luck was going the other way for me. No keys. I may be good at my job but I had never hotwired a car … ever. My hands shook as I locked the door. That wasn't going to stop the Joker for long, but it worked temporarily.
In the brief moments of panic I had forgotten about my pursuers. They had caught up easily and I could hear their shouts and footsteps from inside the van.
The Joker approached the van coolly. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either way I was dead. He pressed his face up against the glass, a cold smirk plastered on his face. I shuddered and began inching toward the passenger side. The Joker smirked, he was toying with me.
The men pursuing me came up on the other side of the van. Who to choose. Neither option was pleasant. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Joker would kill me slowly for the hell of it. The men had a job to do, but I had cost them a lot. They'd take their revenge, I could hear them shouting about it. Pissed off little fuckers.
Once my breathing was under control I opened my eyes. No Joker, but the men were still on the other side. They weren't paying attention to me though. They jeers and threats had turned into screams. Blood splattered the side of the window and I new what was happening … the Joker had turned on the,.
I was next.
Tears stung my eyes and I reached for the drivers side door. "Not so fast, dolly." The voice sent chills down my spine. I stood face to face with the Joker. Fear paralyzed me, my heart even halted its beats. His teeth bared at me in a sick grin. He was so close, I could tell every bump in his scars, every fault in his makeup. The blood loss from the injury in my cheek and exhaustion began to take over me. "Shit," I muttered, forcing the world to stop spinning.
"Let's, ah, let's go for a little joyride. Shall we?" His hands twirled his bloody switchblade in his hand. For a second I tried to run, but it didn't work, his hand gripped my chin painfully. His grimy nails dug into the open wound on my cheek. I cried out. "Now, now, dolly, I'm not going to hurt ya … not yet." Like I really was a ragdoll he slammed me back into the car. The blow to my head against the dashboard was the last straw on my psyche and I gave in to the blackness.