It was just the luck of the draw really. Nothing I could have foreseen, something to be planned for, no instinct to be used. Just pure black luck
The night had started off a-maze- ing; a good hiest, a few minor explosions in the way of unlucky cars and Batman was here! He was doing grea-t! And then, well, uh, my little clowns decided that they could think for themselves.. I never gave them that option. They opened fire on the bat, usually not a problem, but Batman was fighting with me. They weren't allowed to interrupt my fights.
So, I shot them. Batsy seemed a bit surprised that I hadn't used the gun on him, I could tell even through that damnable mask. And, really, that was fine too. Always keeping him on his toes was my expertise. But, i digress; I forgot a henchclown. I can't be blamed for this, he was an insignificant detail in my life, a minor blip on my radar... he just slipped under.
We weren't fighting again yet. Batsy was giving me my space to vent, like the gentleman he was, and I waved the gun around, explaining to my newly acquired bodies that he was mine and only I was allowed to play with him. Due to lack of protest, I assume they got the message. Except for him, that small little blip I was talking about. He really shouldn't have died as quickly as he did; would have been soo satisfying to watch him die slowly, drag out that torture a bit, let the mean-ings of my word sink into his skull. But now there's not too much of that left so I suppose he'll understand better now, right?
I heard the shuffle too late and saw the flash of grinning white rubber a second after. The flash from the muzzle and bang of the gunpowder drained my blood faster then his. My revolver took no time to think as it rose of its own accord as my Bat fell and left the clown open to my full sight. It barely registered as the mask was blown away and skull and precious organ were scattered across the room. My attention was solely on my fallen half.
His blood was leaking at an alarming rate from the hole in his suit but it was the amount that wasn't able to get out that concerned me more. The hole was small, so a majority of the blood would be contained within the kevlar. He could be bleeding out. His face was pale and already forming sweat, pain and shock beginning to set in before he could stop it. I needed pressure on the wound, now. I might be the master of chaos, but I didn't start out that way.
The rest went by in a blur. I was able to hack my way through the enforced material, and bound him as tight as I could. I knew where he knew his car-caller, and activated it, hoping against hope that he could stay wake to get help. He didn't speak a word, only harsh breaths and pain filled gasps as I accidentally pushed too hard of jostled him too much on the way to the tank beast. I know that I blabbered, it's just what I do; why keep the crap inside if it already wants to come out. Plus, it soothed me.
So, he drove off, more then a lot confused under all that pain. I could tell. I can always tell. Just like I know that stubborn bastard won't die unless I'm the one to kill him. And trust me, everyone who tries will have another thing going for him. Namely me, uh, dropping by for a nice, quaint visit.
But it was just luck, right? I mean, I might have crap for luck, just look at that record!- but Basty, his is better. I'm the Yin to his Yang, so my luck is black compared to his white, right? Right?!
It's been weeks now... so why hasn't he come back out to play?