So sorry for the huge wait (alright, not that huge- only three weeks, but comparatively monstrous) for this chapter. My writing mojo dried up, and life blitzed me. But I think maybe this chapter is worth it. Not necessarily writing-wise; definitely content wise. You're getting something you readers were looking for in this chapter. I'll just quit talking and let you read. Dear ol' Lucius narrates this extravaganza here.
'And I thought my jokes were bad.' –The Joker
CHAPTER THREE: THE PUNCH LINE
He kept a careful eye on Matilda while she got her face painted. There was quite the crowd gathered around the tables- it was a popular attraction- and although Lucius knew there was a small chance of her wandering off while she was getting done up like a cat you couldn't be too careful in Gotham. Sometimes, people had their cars stolen while they were in them. While they were driving, even. Resisting the urge to chuckle at the darkly humorous thought, he smiled at his granddaughter as she grinned gap-toothedly at him, wrinkling her now white-covered face.
It was getting late. With the night usually came the immediate alarm to go home, but now it was a call to the impromptu stage and seats that had been set up down on the eastern edge of the park. Matilda had insisted on staying for the concert. The music looked like it would be alright, with some progressive band that dabbled in a lot of genres playing, and Lucius had agreed. He could never say no to her cute little eyes that looked so much like her mother's and her grandmother's. She might have been milking him. It worked.
Lucius should have realised that giving Matilda sugar (cotton candy, to be precise; it stuck to her lips like blue whiskers and made her cat look even more realistic) would only prolong her alertness. Now, instead of peacefully slipping off to the car after she had gotten too sleepy, he was forced to endure more pseudo-indie boy band music than he had ever heard before. His wicked conscience sniggered at his own misfortune. Even though only three songs had been played so far, it seemed like an eternity to Lucius as he kept a weary, watchful eye on Matilda, who danced at the edge of the stage some ten feet away from him. They'd been lucky enough to snag seats down in the front, grassy area that seemed to have been designed to be killer on old men's backs.
A whine of the guitar trailed off into the last fading drum note. Clapping politely: maybe out of relief- Lucius reaffirmed the location of Matilda and focused half of his attention on the hairy bassist making his way to the mic and half on his twirling granddaughter. Just when the frontman grabbed the stand, a crackle of static grabbed his tongue.
The voice that came out of the speakers was not the tremulous baritone of the musician. It was a voice that effectively took whatever words the bassist had been about to say and shoved them down his throat, such was its power. Needless to say, every adult in the park tensed when they heard it spill out of the speakers like a toxic gas, Lucius included. Instinctively, he stood. He had to get to Matilda. There was nothing else he could do but get her out. He wasn't a young, strong, hero, and this just threw him into protective grandpa mode. Fifty other guardians had the same idea, however.
The Joker continued his tirade, unfased by the mild hysteria that was beginning to unfold in the throng. While the band member stood dumbly at the mic, the madmen's speech dripped out of the amplifiers.
'-there's not really much to it. You all should invest in security. Ah, pay your bills, you know? And keep closer tabs on your hospital staff. Anyways, I simply wanted to remind you all of what you'd been missing while I was gone. I was honoured that you'd thrown this bash and I thought it would make an, uh, excellent welcome-back party. But what's a party without some candles?' His tone lilted joyously, leaping and then crawling from one syllable to the next, weaving a tuneless song of terror that had everyone in the audience more transfixed than the group's music ever could. Because of this, all of their internal warning alarms went off too late.
A piercing crescendo of laughter tumbled into the air and with it came a bullet that flew faster than the eye could see at the unfortunate front man, who took it to the chest and jerked backward sickeningly, like a marionette yanked unexpectedly in some macabre puppet show. In that moment, the screaming began. Lucius started shouting. He wasn't sure what he was saying, though he swore he heard things like 'Matilda, I'm coming!' and 'Clear out, everyone! Everyone, careful!' and 'Oh, shit, what's happening?' (perhaps that one a tad quieter, under his breath). His analytic mind worked overtime to locate the bobbing, braided head while his eyes were unable to look away from the band rushing towards their fallen bassist. Something else was about to go terribly wrong. He knew it.
Something soared through the sky and landed behind the drum set and then exploded. One cymbal sliced dangerously close to Lucius- close enough for him to not check behind him for fear of what he might see- while countless other bits of flaming shrapnel pierced the waterproof tarp over the stage. Another grenade was all it took to dispatch the rest of the performing area and the performers. Fire sprinkled down from the sky; in a few seconds the wheezing cackle of the Joker was cut off ominously as the speakers sparked and burst into flames.
Lucius could still hear the giggling in his head louder than the sounds of panic as he frantically rushed towards where he knew/hoped that Matilda would be. She would be O.K., he would keep her safe, he had to keep her safe, he had a sort-of plan and it would work.
His sort-of plan collapsed with the pillar holding up the banner that was emblazoned with the band's name. The Punch Line, written in bright green Gothic lettering on midnight purple. The Joker certainly had a terrible sense of humour, thought Lucius wryly and out of the blue as he pushed past an overweight mad whose jaw was about touching his pot belly. As the sign drifted down lazily he tried to the smoke from his head.
There was Matilda, underneath the falling banner. Her smeared face paint was eerie in the moving light and the white set her apart from the crowd. Setting his jaw, Lucius grabbed her swiftly and shoved his way out of the crowd, not looking down or back or anywhere but ahead, towards where they had parked the car a good hundred and twenty yards away. She was hot and sweaty and he wasn't in great shape and he strained as he ran for his black, boxy 'sport' minivan (he thanked whatever God there might be that he had opted for a faster make in an attempt to preserve his youth). The heat from the flames seemed to be in his lungs. The make-up and candy smell of his
granddaughter was in his nose, so that kept him sprinting. They made it to the car when he heard a fresh round of gunshots, explosions, and shrieks.
Lucius sat her down matter-of-factly in the back seat after wrenching open the door and buckled her in in a businesslike manner. It didn't even occur to him that he'd forgotten to lock the doors foolishly. No doubt something had been stolen.
None of those thoughts even darted through his head as he took her face in hers, thinking only of calming his breathing and of the keys in his pocket and the girl in his hands. Firmly, he planted a kiss on her black hair, murmuring some soft assurance of safety. The door was closed gently and the front one opened with new vigour. His momentum continued, and he told her everything would be alright while he started up the engine. When it roared into life he noticed the white face paint tainting his hands and he merely stared at them for a while, feeling adrenaline fade and horror tingle in his fingertips. Some flash from the make-shift arena brought back logic. Lucius looked back up, blinking, then backed out of the parking spot. Even with the image of the bleeding bassist and his Matilda's clownish face branded in his retina, he couldn't miss the black shape soaring down from the nearest building, blending in with the dark almost imperceptibly.
Oho, Joker's back! You wouldn't believe how long it took me to write the perfect scene I had cooked up in my head for his grand return, and I still don't think I did it justice. My heart's only now clearing up from the intensity. Thanks to all of my readers for sticking to this fic or to anyone just starting to read. I should update more regularly now. E-cookies to all of those fantastic people who take the time to review and click the favourite/alert button, because you guys make writing this even more of a pleasure. And lastly, for your enjoyment, my notes for this chapter. If you're interested in what happens when I rarely decide to document my ideas but can't be bothered to actually get into actually penning the story.
watching concert front lawn side frontman goes up after second song to speak at mic starts talking no sound joker on instead he gives mini-speech then frontman is shot while people begin to panic hysteria bandmates rush to help in confusion grenade is thrown on stage lucius few others notice screaming they shout explosion laughing cut off over speakers panic