Worst Fear - a Joker Story
Meeoko
Summary : Ever wondered what happened to The Joker before he came to Gotham City? Sometimes, your fears can catch up with you. Short one-shot fic. Rated M for violence, gore and language.
Author's Note's : Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, dear readers! May you never have to withstand the horrors I'm going to depict in this fic (that's my way of wishing you the all the best)! Obviously, this isn't the most Christmassy thing to read - but I hope you enjoy it regardless.
EDIT : Okay, sorry I'm posting this again guys, but I needed to correct something. I had a slight problem with Copy and Paste, so I ended up repeating an entire paragaph! My bad! And thank you to ktowngirl for pointing it out.
"Well, well, well. Gotham City's finest – fleeing like little rabbits over a radio presenter. Tripping over each other like babes in the woods. "
The Joker smiled, showing a row of primal teeth. Looking down into the panicked streets below through the dip in the blinds, he fingered the lines of the sash blinds, following the pathways of the people below.
"Huh, you don't know where your going." he sang, pointing to people below "Or you. Or you. Oh, andthatguy there! He just hasn't got a clue!"
The people looked wary.
Some of them were hurrying along the streets at a jog, with their heads down. But it was the traffic that suffered the most. The whole of Gotham Central was backed up for miles.
The frequencies were apparently on the same wavelength as the traffic lights and since his little 'broadcast', The Joker had been smiling to himself, pleased with the havoc as the police cars tried to make their way through the sea of frozen cars.
Licking his lips, he burst into laughter, hopping on the spot in his excitement. Chips of plaster fell from the craggy ceiling as he laughed, bringing his foot into the table with such force that it hit into the wall.
"Woohoo! Look at them go!" he laughed. "Like rats! Scurrying like little rats!"
The boys stood around him in a circle, each donning his own clown mask. One of them was chuckling, the other clapping his hands together slowly, as if in applause.
"I think we've hit the jackpot, boys!" The Joker finally came to a standstill, looking again out of the window. "One tiny little threat and radio signal and we've got half the city going crazy! Haha! Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run!"
The faceless men continued to stand where they were.
Newcomer was fiddling with the cuff of his jumper, slowly unravelling it. His emotionless mask rose to look at him as his muffled, stuttering speech came from behind it.
"Uh, boss? I-I don't get it."
Snapping the blind closed over the dirty glass, The Joker turned to face his men. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but it was with a smile. How naïve and lost these boys were!
He had achieved his goal – or at least, half of it. Even their whiny, childish questions couldn't dampen his spirits now!
"And exactly what don't you understand, Newcomer?" The Joker smiled, slowly edging closer to the boy.
"Uh, I, it's just-"
"He doesn't get why we're goin' to the hospital, sir. We don't wanna go back to the White Rooms."
The Joker looked over at the bulkier one who had interrupted and his eyes immediately shot down to the floor. He toed at the filth in the carpet, anxious for a reply from their guardian angel.
It wouldn't do to anger an angel. No it would not.
Blowing a puff of air out through his nose, The Joker made a popping sound in his mouth. If he had to explain it to his boys one more time, he would.
He at least owed them that! After all, in less than three hours, each and every one of them would be expendable.
But, every army had its veterans. The building blocks that started it all.
"We are going to the hospital, boys....because there's something there that I need to, uh, take care of."
"But boss." the large one shivered. "The Shadow Men."
Trying again, The Joker chewed at his mouth, intent on keeping his patience. After all, what were most games without patience? Boring.
"We're not....going to see the Shadow Men." The Joker sighed, waving his hands in the air before him. "We're not going to the White Rooms. No boys. We are going for something....far more important. We are ehem, we're going to restore what you lost. What they took from you before the darkness that is Gotham City has the chance to devour the rest of your wings."
The masked boys all leant forward a little closer as their guardian stood before them.
He waved his hands in the air, triumphant as the lost boys all leant closer to their guardian angel.
"No boys! We go for the army! At the hospital, boys - there are angels! Waiting for you! Waiting for their saviours! And they want their goddamn wings back!"
With grinning faces and tittering laughter, the boys began to rub their hands together in excitement, though none said a word.
One by one, they filtered out through the door, each looking as excited as children at Christmas.
"Pfft! Angels!." he murmured to himself. "I'll show y'a some goddamn angels when I blow your head off. Goddamn kids. Just waiting for an excuse like the rest of 'em..."
Bringing his own clown mask towards his face, he fastened the straps in pace and grabbed his coat.
"Sit tight, Harry. We'll be back for ya' when the time comes."
Reaching for the door handle, The Joker took one last look at the CD placed on the windowsill and ran his fingers over the cool surface, nodding to himself.
Yes, Harry was going to be perfectly convincing. Harry was going to play his part just fine.
The Gotham Police Department was abuzz with activity. Men and women rushed backwards and forwards, mobile phones, walkie talkies and slips of paper in their hands. There was a constant buzz of ringing as phones continued to ring off the hook.
And Jim Gordon was beginning to feel the pressure. Lucky for Jim, he worked well under pressure.
"New traces have come back empty, Gordon. They're scouring the tower and all possible satellite transmitters within the area for bugs as we speak. Voice analysis for Giles checked out with some of the recordings taken from the radio tower – it's no bluff, Gordon. They've got him in there."
Gordon took the sheet from the man's hands and was immediately stopped by someone else.
"MCU's come back with nothing, Gordon. They're cross-referencing the voice over with any possible kidnapping suspects within the area and we have SWAT teams ready to deploy."
"Good." Gordon rubbed at his moustache "How many?"
"One squadron positioned on the roof, another positioned along the entrance and throughout the drive. We have four volunteers willing to act as escorts throughout the premises, but they're requesting to bring weapons into the facility with them."
"Give them what they want. We have no idea who this man is, or what he's capable of. I don't want any risks. And tell Bullock that I'm his next volunteer! I don't want anyone to let this guy slip through their fingers! But tell your men that under pain of death, they are not to engage fire unless the suspect does so first. I mean it, McCawl!"
"Yes, sir!"
Jesus! Gordon almost fell down into his seat, wiping away the sweat from his brow.
The clamour of officers hustling together had really increased the temperature. For possibly the seventh time in a single minute, Jim looked at the clock. Twenty minutes.
Rising from his chair with heavy limbs, Jim got to action. Shoving the glass doors aside, he headed for the roof. Nobody stopped him with calls or paperwork this time.
They knew where he was going.
The damp chill of the emergency stairs immediately soothed Jim and he took two stairs at a time, striding closer towards the roof. He didn't have time to wait around for him, this time.
He must have heard the broadcast himself! The whole of Gotham had heard it!
Bursting through the emergency door, Jim didn't even have the time to take in a breath of cool air. Moving towards the beacon in three swift steps, Jim clicked down the lever. Light exploded on top of the roof as the beacon shone upwards, the dark bat in the centre of the clouds looking down on him like a waiting hunter.
The man had demanded that Batman didn't show his face tonight. But Jim knew him better than that. Even if he didn't have the time to wait around – the Batman would come. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but merely prepare for it.
The Batman wasn't confined by the walls of the law, but he wouldn't intentionally risk someone's life.
The slam of the fire door brought his attention back to the matter at hand. In the doorway stood Romerez, beckoning for him to move, gun in hand.
"We gotta go, Gordon. Fifteen minutes left until the exchange takes place."
With a nod, Jim began to walk back towards the fire door. Taking one last glance behind him at the beacon, Jim half expected to see the Batman already standing there, waiting and ready. But he wasn't.
How could he be?
They headed down the stairs, taking two at a time. Romerez thrust a set of car keys into his hands as they left for the exit.
"You really think it's a good idea to volunteer, Gordon?" she puffed "We should let MCU handle this."
Clicking the key into place, Jim jumped into the front seat and clicked on his seat belt. Romerez jumped in beside him.
"Don't tell me how to do my job, kid. I've been doing this for twenty years."
Turning the key in the ignition, Jim pushed the engine into life. Apologetically, Romerez changed the subject.
"Traffic's been diverted and the path to the hospital has been cleared. All surrounding civilian homes have been evacuated and they're working on moving some of the senior, long-term patients. All transport to and from the hospital is under rota – nobody can pass through without a visual identification until the time comes."
"Good work."
Jim felt the familiar mixture of terror and anticipation rising in his stomach. But he pushed it back as he turned on the siren above his car and put his foot down.
He had to keep in control. A man's life was on the line!
"Now let's go get this bastard."
But then again, it seemed like someone's life was always on the line. This was Gotham City, after all.
The rumbling of the truck kept perfectly in time with the beat of his heart. It was just like his body was dancing with the truck.
Newcomer didn't like being inside the truck very much. It was too dark.
No matter where he looked, there seemed to be eyes and faces at every darkened corner, which would leap back into their hiding places if they caught him looking. The little voice chirped on and on in his ears, until they began to pester him.
The mask was hot. Very hot. He didn't like the mask very much But the boss always said that it was better to keep your face than lose it. Or was it the other way around?
Newcomer fingered at the trigger of the battle rifle in his hands. The safety was on, of course. He'd double checked and then triple checked. If he did something wrong and the gun went off in the truck, the boss was be very unhappy.
It felt good to have something familiar back in his hands.
He had learnt to use a gun from a very young age. Newcomer didn't know who had taught him, how old he had been or when. It was just something that he always....knew.
Even before the emptiness of the White Room, Newcomer had held on to that memory. The one thing he remembered. Guns.
Newcomer liked guns.
He could see the boss, sitting at the very back of the van in the corner. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the apartment. The boss didn't like to talk much when he wore his mask.
He didn't seem to be enjoying his own rifle as much as Newcomer did. It hung limp in his hand, the safety off. The boss never put the safety on. Said it was like standing in front of a herd of rhino's and holding the tips of their horns to your chest and ordering them to charge.
It was because he was careful. The boss always knew what to do.
And now, he was helping them.
They were going to go back to the White Rooms and take back the fallen angels that the Batman tore down. And then they were going to join together and fly away. That's what the boss said. He said that he'd help find their wings.
The thought of the Batman sent a chill along Newcomer's spine. It was sick. It was wrong. What kind of a man would tear away an angels wings? Was he sad because he couldn't fly himself?
The truck jolted as they passed over bumpy ground.
Something crunched beneath the wheels and they slowed their pace. Newcomer couldn't see outside the truck, but he could picture it. If you could picture silence.
That's what he expected. The air just seemed......quiet.
The emotionless face of the clown rose from the floor and Newcomer snapped into attention. The boss looked at the rifle in his hand, rummaging through his pocket as he did so. Shiny steel glistened in the darkness as he turned the little knife over in his hands, observing the surface of the metal as delicately as if it were a precious gem.
He liked knives too. The boss had lots of knives. Lots of knives.
They slowed even further.
The truck tilted at a slight angle as they drove across the bumpy gravel towards the prison. The prison where they kept all the stolen angels. They continued to slow as gradually, the truck came to a halt.
For a moment, all was still.
Newcomer could picture the silence outside. The bad people who guarded the gates and barred the way to the angels. They were going to try and stop them!
A sigh filled the truck and echoed off its walls. Rising to his feet, the boss tucked the small knife back into his pocket, turning to look at them through his mask.
"Safeties off now, boys. We don't want anybody getting themselves hurt now, do we?"
A chorus of "No boss." echoed inside the truck.
Newcomer clicked the safety off as carefully as he could. He didn't like the safety. It was like he was caging the bullet. Like a bird.
Bending down towards the door of the truck, the boss curled his fingers around the edge and lifted ever so slightly, so that a tiny ray of light shone inside the truck.
Newcomer could feel himself getting excited. Not the Father Christmas kind of excited, but the Godfather 2 kind of excited. He had seen it while passing a TV store once. He had stood there for over three hours outside the window, in the cold and the rain, with his eyes glued to the movie.
He'd gotten in big trouble with the boss for that one.
Newcomer laughed to himself once, finger already brushing the trigger of the battle rifle.
"Hehe. Say hello to my little friend."
After readjusting his mask a final time, the boss pulled the doorway upwards to see the dark of the growing night outside. The light hadn't been coming from the sun, after all. Just lots of bright red lights.
"Come on boys." the boss turned to them before jumping out of the truck. "The devil's waiting."
It was the silence that everybody hated. The calm before the storm.
Jim had been waiting at the hospital for barely five minutes when he got a radio call saying that the suspects had just passed through the first barrier. They were in a food delivery truck and it appeared that the driver was wearing a clown mask.
Last minute orders were given as the GPD scrambled to get into position.
Jim stood alongside Commissioner Akins and the four volunteers, ready and waiting in front of the big double gates directly overlooking the asylum. All were armed and decked in both protective vests and riot gear. All apart from Jim.
Of course he was armed. But Jim had never been one to wear body armour. It restricted his movement and he wasn't getting any younger. He needed all of the flexibility he could get.
The Commissioner had advised against it strongly, but now, there was no more time left.
Nobody had any idea what they were dealing with. They didn't know who they were dealing with! A voice over the radio was hardly anything to go by. Especially since they couldn't match the voice to any known operating kidnappers within the area. For all they knew, they could be dealing with something far more difficult than they had anticipated.
But Jim had never been one to make blatant mistakes.
The Direct Assault Team were all positioned atop the roof and in direct sight of the main windows, armed with precision sniper rifles, just in case. The entire asylum had been evacuated twenty minutes earlier of all members of staff, although all of the patients remained.
There were several serious cases within the building that had also been evacuated to a different facility – although Jim had been skeptical about this. If they had moved the wrong person and this terrorist didn't get what he wanted.....well, Jim didn't like to think about it.
The Commissioner was standing ready, almost eager to begin negotiations beside him. Jim could feel the tension emanating from the man and in all honesty – he didn't envy him.
Sure, Jim might have been in charge of the official movements of the GPD, but the Commissioner's word was law and his will iron.
There was deathly silence.
Only the singular crackle of radio's could be heard as every man and woman present strained their ears to pick up the slowly nearing sound of tyre tracks. The almost silent whisper of a voice over the radio buzzed at Jim's breast pocket.
"Visual has been established. He's coming."
Jim held his breath as the Gotham Police Department watched the nearing vehicle in the distance as it travelled up the path towards the asylum. They were driving slowly, carefully. It was unusual in a kidnapping, but Jim didn't have time to think about specifics as finally, the food truck pulled up alongside the wrought iron gates and came to a halt.
The wind changed direction.
Jim let out the breath inside him and bit down on his lip. Why had he volunteered for this? He should have called Barbra first! He knew he should have!
The harsh squealing sound of rolling metal echoed across the empty space as the metal shutter of the truck was pulled upwards, quickly followed by the sharp sound of almost thirty safety switches being flicked off. Jim tensed.
Somebody stepped out.
Jim clamped his teeth together to maintain himself as a man in a purple suit and clown mask jumped down onto the floor. He held a battle rifle in his hands, barely even glancing at them before several more men jumped down from the truck. Jim counted four, five in total. They each held rifles and machine guns.
A dull chill flew down Jim's spine and settled in his boots. Of course he had expected them to bring guns. But there was something strange about the way they moved. Something....animal. Primitive. Like they were drunk. Maybe they were.
The figures looked around for a moment, seemingly taking their time.
There seemed to be one who led the rest, though Jim couldn't make out their faces behind the masks. The one with the purple suit. Jim desperately wanted to speak to the man, but knew that he was not to under any circumstances. He couldn't compromise his position. This was Commission Akins job now.
But still, Jim was fixated on the strange masked men.
Raising a hand, the lead figure beckoned the other four forward towards them. The four armed men behind Jim and Commissioner Akins tensed, the sound of body armour clinking in the chill of the wind.
All of a sudden, Jim seemed to have a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. A gut feeling, he called it. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.
And at that moment, Jim wished more than ever that he had not volunteered.
"Ahh...you must be...the Commissioner! Thanks for the welcoming party, but you really didn't need to go all out."
Commissioner Akin's held firm.
Beside him, there were four armed cops all decked in riot gear and another, shorter man at his side. The Joker was surprised to see that this man didn't wear any protection, like the rest.
It stumped him, although he had to say – he was impressed. For a moment, he looked at the man, finding it difficult to decide whether or not to respect him, or laugh at his stupidity.
The Commissioner coughed loudly, drawing his attention. Inside his mask, The Joker rolled his eyes and let out an aggravated breath. Obviously, Commissioner Akins was not a man to take things lightly. He stood in front of the large iron gates, decked in a bullet-proof vest and a gun at his hip.
Pfft! Stupid, stupid man. Sure, the vests might stop bullets, but it would be so incredibly easy to just slip in a blade between the joints and sever the tendons. So....so easy.
"Where's Giles?"
The Joker looked over towards Commissioner Akin's stern face and sighed inside his mask. Surely these people weren't that stupid? He rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand, shaking it as he did so.
"Obviously, Commissioner, I was unclear in my...negotiations. Or have you just been sitting behind that nice big desk so long that you tend to forget things when you have to come back down to...our level?"
The side of Akin's face twitched, but he remained silent. The Joker continued.
"As I already made quite clear..... will remain with me until my demands are met. You'll get him back safe and sound when I have what I want."
He licked his lips inside the stuffy mask, holding up a finger.
"Buuut....one false move, Commissioner. One single shot on myself or my friends here, and Harry Giles will die. You can make certain of that. I don't speak lightly, Commissioner. I'm a man of my word."
Commissioner Akins nodded, though his face remained both grim and determined. One of the men beside him moved to open the gates and they squealed harshly in protest.
"These men have been assigned to escort you into the building." Akins scowled, baring down at them with his superior height. "You will have unrestricted access to the premises to find who you are looking for. You will have exactly one hour to vacate the premises, or my men have authority to take you down. You got that, clown boy?"
Unable to help himself, The Joker laughed through his nose.
The guards at either side of the commission flinched slightly at the sudden movement, pulling their guns higher. Holding up a hand, The Joker looked up at the burly commissioner through the itchy eyeholes of his mask. He did not look amused.
"I'm sorry," The Joker snorted "I'm sorry – what? You'll have to forgive me, Commissioner. I'm not laughing at you. Well...okay, I am. You seem the thing is....you're a hands-on man. I can see that. But uh, I'm afraid that all those years behind that big comfy desk has made you....uh, how can I put this?"
He chewed the inside of his mouth as he thought for the answer.
"Soft. Human. Vulnerable."
Commissioner Akins barely made a move, apart from the slight dip of his eyelids as he took in The Joker's words. It was enough. All he needed to confirm his suspicions.
"And well," he continued. "I'm afraid that I can't really take your, uh.....threat seriously. Nothing personal, of course, Commissioner. I just have a bit of a....talent....for spotting the liars, shall we say?"
Sweeping his free hand towards the un-armoured cop with the moustache, The Joker couldn't help but let another puff of laughter escape his lips.
"I mean, this guy's the only one of you who seems ta' have any balls! He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know what I might do to him if I got the chance. But he......he still has the stones to stand here without all'a that police dress-up crap your wearin'! So please, Commissioner....it's best not to lie to me."
For a moment, Commissioner Akins shoulders went stiff and he twitched.
The man beside him seemed unaffected, though the angle of his shoulders told The Joker that he was as tightly wound as a spring. Commissioner Akins seemed to tremble all over. A vein in his head had popped out and he was clenching his jaw. For a moment, The Joker thought that he might actually move to attack him.
He hoped so. Oh God, did he hope so!
But barely a moment later, the commissioner recovered himself, cleverly turning the motion into the sweep of a hand. He rose a finger to point directly at The Joker, who tilted his head, already growing bored with the charade.
"You will get in." Akins spoke, sounding rigid and furious. "You will get what you need. You will get out. But if there is any funny business – anything I don't like the look of – I won't hesitate to shoot you in the face myself!"
Turning around and brusquely striding through the gates, Commissioner Akins began to clear the way. For a moment, The Joker watched after him.
He decided then and there that some day, Commissioner Akins was going to die.
Why would Gotham need a police department run by a liar? That just wasn't good politics.
Motioning for his 'angels' to move up behind him, The Joker shrugged to himself, fingering the trigger of the battle rifle and followed after the Commissioner.
"Did it just get colder out here? Geez, ya kidnap one person and you get a death threat on your head."
The large double doors loomed ahead as they walked. The greying metal above the door frame intertwined, spelling out the name of the asylum. The main reception was deathly silent – not a soul was around and it made Jim shiver.
The men walked behind him, with the Commissioner at the head of the party. The four other armed volunteers flanked the terrorists, carefully watching their every move, though Jim didn't dare look back at them. There was something in the way that they held themselves that spooked him. Like the walking dead.
They looked as if they were the ones who belonged in the asylum.
And there was something uneasy in the pit of Jim's stomach. It was the way that the leader, the man in the purple suit, had looked at him as he had spoken. As he had spoken, there had been a tone in his voice that Jim hadn't expected. It had sounded a little like respect. Or was it empathy?
But this had only proven to make Jim feel even more uncomfortable.
He could feel the man's eyes boring into the back of his head and he fought the urge to turn around. The words that he had spoken to Commissioner Akins echoed around inside his head like a warning, or a promise.
"Soft. Human. Vulnerable."
Only now, it was Jim who felt particularly vulnerable.
They came to a halt in front of the main reception. Commissioner Akins turned to face the masked men, an incredulous look of disgust and anger on his face.
Jim knew that look. It was the same look that the commissioner used when he knew that he had been caught out – and that there was nothing he could do about it.
"Remember, clown." he snarled, again raising his finger to point at the masked leader. "One hour. No more. No less. And we expect to have Giles returned to us, as you agreed. If I find that you've played us – I will come and find you. Personally."
There as a momentary pause.
The Commissioner's finger stayed poised, pointing accusingly at the masked terrorists. Unexpectedly, the masked man took a low bow, theatrically waving his gun behind him as a reminder. The armoured volunteers tensed behind him, ready to strike if need be. But as he bowed low, the eyes behind the mask never left the Commissioner's face.
"As you wish....Commissioner."
Grunting angrily, Commissioner Akins stormed back the way he came, throwing an arm back behind him as he went.
"Gordon – no mistakes."
Nodding only to himself, Gordon watched as the burly man pushed away the glass doors angrily and took his position in the courtyard. The men positioned outside stood silently in watching through the glass, obscured by riot masks. Watching. Waiting.
"Ehem."
The sound brought Jim back from his thoughts and immediately, the seriousness on his face returned. The masked leader stood waiting before him, having arisen from his bow. The other masked men beside him stood, their heads darting around the large reception. Almost as if they were scared.
Motioning with his head, Jim began to lead the way into the facility.
As agreed, the building had been evacuated of all staff, though the patients remained. It was eerily quiet. The footsteps of the masked men sounded behind him, a silent remainder of the position that he was in. Jim was in no position to lead. Here, he was simply a pawn.
Pushing through another set of double doors and up a flight of stairs, they entered a long corridor. Doors stood side by side along each side of the hallway, not a single bar of light filtering in or out. Jim clenched his jaw. Here. This was where the hunt would begin.
And there were another two floors above filled with patients. Who knew how long it would take to locate the man that the terrorist was looking for?
Standing to the side, Jim let the lead man through. He dashed up to each individual window like a child opening their presents at Christmas, peeking through the small windows at those inside. Each door had a chart slotted into the front with the patients details on and he picked one up, studying it carefully.
He muttered to himself as he read, seemingly excited. Jim thought this was a little strange. Didn't he know he person he was looking for? Why would he need to read the charts?
"Okay...." he mumbled. "Paranoid tendencies, self-loathing, hallucinations, bulimia...."
He shook his head vigorously, immediately putting the chart back down.
"No. No. Don't want any whiny little kids....no, no."
Jim remained vigilant as he moved to the next door on the far side, again picking up the chart. The other four masked men moved past Jim, seeming almost edgy. Their guns shook as they held them and their eyes kept to the floor, as though they were terrified that they might see something inside the cells that they didn't like.
"Riiiight." the man mumbled, tutting to himself. "Deluded fantasies, unable to retain information....introverted depressive. No, no, no.
Shaking his head almost angrily, he thrust the chart back into its place, immediately moving towards the next door. His masked men followed, though each of them trembled like small children.
Jim watched warily, exchanging glances with one of the men at his side, who simply shook his head in disbelief. Nobody knew what was happening.
"M'kay...." the leader continued to mumble, after picking up yet another chart. "Displays of aggression, right....severe hallucinations...hmm, manic depressive? Ooh! Abused as a child! He'll do nicely!"
Flicking a finger towards the cell, the man turned to face Jim.
"You uh, mind if I do?"
Jim swallowed a lump in his throat, looking carefully over towards the cell door.
"Is that the man you're looking for?"
The clown mask tilted to the side backwards and forth. Jim could almost imagine the man behind it trying to look innocently back at him. He shrugged, waving the gun in his hand as he did so.
"In a matter of words....yes."
Jim frowned. What was he up to?
He placed a hand on his waist, fingering the access card that lay there. He had been given it personally by the founder of the asylum, to access the areas he needed. But now, he wasn't so sure.
"What are you getting at?" Jim asked, trying to sound as un-threatening as possible.
The man shrugged again, a sigh escaping from the brim of the mask. The eyes inside rolled skywards.
"I believe we had an agreement didn't we, officer?" he drawled, sounding bored. "Now, either you can be a nice little cop and give me what I ask for, or uh....I could have ' head taken off and sent to his family in the mail."
The voice was not aggressive in the slightest. Simply mocking. Like he was enjoying what he said.
"Would you like that, Officer?" he continued "To be held personally responsible for an innocent man's death? I know I wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure what they do to cops who...compromise things. And I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble now, would I?"
For a moment, Jim stared at the man, desperately trying to see what might be behind the mask. But it was about as futile as trying to figure out what was behind the Batman's mask. Slowly, he moved towards the door, pulling the card from behind him as he did so.
The man looked down at him and Jim was sure he was smiling.
Timidly, Jim slotted the card into the reader alongside the door lock. A single buzzing sound echoed through the silent corridor and the lock came undone.
"Ya know," the eerie voice spoke beside him "I like you. You've got balls. Ya' don't see that in too many cops these days. What was your name? Gordon?"
Reaching out a hand towards the door handle, the man began to pull it open.
Jim could see a trembling, small figure outlined in the darkness, looking out at them like an animal caught in the headlights. Before the masked terrorist entered the room, he slapped a gloved hand on Jim's shoulder, making him freeze.
Leaning in close so that Jim could see that whites of his eyes, the man whispered in his ear.
"Ya' know, I think I'm going to like working with you, Gordon."
Autho's Note's : Has anybody grasped what The Joker is doing yet? Or what he's really going to do about Harry Giles? Ten points to anyone who can guess! It takes a little reading between the lines, but you'll get it.