"She hasn't told me where Rachel is, if that's what you mean." Batman replied.
The Joker felt his cut lip, and looked at the blood on his fingers. As he spoke, he began to smear it over his scars in place of his customary red lipstick. "I mean, I leave the room for just a second, and when I get back, I find my bestest friend in the entire world, who's more fun than anybody else could ever be, which is you, Bats, and the worst thorn in my side, a prissy, preachy little know-it-all who nags all the time, talking about me behind my back. What am I supposed to think? Huh?"
"While she has an abrasive personality, I'll give her this. She's saner than you. But if you want my help in getting rid of this other personality in exchange for Rachel, I—."
"When did I say that? No." The Joker ran out of blood, but his painted smile wasn't done yet, so he dabbed at the split for more. "I just wanted your help to get out of Arkham and back in the game."
"Then you lied!"
"No, I didn't. Rachel is alive, or should be, accidents do happen, chaos in action, hee-hee! However, I can't simply tell you where she is. If I'm not along you will never get her out alive. We can set out for where I stashed her just as soon as you let me use the Bat-toilet. Can't hang up when nature calls, after all."
"—it can't wait?"
"Let me put it to you this way—it can be your bathroom, or your Batmobile. The choice is yours."
"I'll get you a can."
"How can I put this delicately--I fear it would prove too small for the job at hand." The Joker quirked an eyebrow at his foe.
Practically any bathroom had an array of potentially dangerous items on hand. The medicine cabinet had razors and first aid supplies. Underneath the sink were cleansers which could temporarily or permanently blind. Mirrors broke into glass shards both large and small. The toilet tank had metal rods…The list went on and on. Of course the trickster might be lying, but if he wasn't—. Nothing else could be done.
"You stay here for a moment." Batman cuffed the Joker to the table and removed everything but the fixtures, the toilet paper, and a sliver of soap. That, as it so happened, was when Bruce Wayne made the mistake which allowed the Joker to escape.
It was definitely Bruce Wayne who made the mistake rather than the Batman, and it happened because of his upbringing. For a man born into wealth and privilege, he was unusually self-sufficient, because (ironically) he wanted to avoid become the person he now pretended to be in public--the rich, spoiled, playboy asshole.
He'd learned how to cook and wash up afterward. He could handle a vacumn cleaner and do laundry without ruining everything, sew on buttons, iron a shirt, fix leaks, install a light fixture, and pick up after himself. During the years he spent searching for himself abroad, he learned how to live off the land if necessary, how to survive in prison, how to fight--but he had never been called upon to change a roll of toilet paper.
The spindles of most domestic toilet paper holders were usually made of two pieces of plastic which telescoped together so they could be popped in and out easily. The tension needed to keep the spindle in the sockets was supplied by a small wire coil. Bruce Wayne never gave the spindle a thought, so Batman left it where it was.
Returning to his prisoner, he unlocked the cuff and marched him to the bathroom. "Five minutes, and I frisk you when you're done."
"If you're going to do a full body-cavity search, I demand a chaperon--or else buy me dinner first."
Batman shoved the Joker inside, and closed the door--another mistake, but not as bad as leaving the spindle in place.
The sight of the toilet paper holder made me smile a very wide and happy grin. Upon sitting down, I quietly popped the spindle out and took it apart. There wasn't a trace of rust on the coil; it was new and strong. Perhaps six inches long if uncoiled and straightened, it wasn't large at all, but when you're as imaginative and resourceful as I am, it doesn't need to be.
Compressing it between thumb and forefinger, I considered where I might hide it on my person. It would easily fit my little finger like a ring, but that was too conspicuous. Hiding it in my hair was out for the same reason. Although I doubted Batman would go so far as to strip search me, I didn't want it stashed anywhere inaccessible, so I put it in my mouth, between cheek and tongue.
'Damn it, I knew you were up to something!' Grace swore. 'And I can't warn him. Not that he deserves any favors from me, but I don't want you loose in the general population.'
"Want to keep me all to yourself, do you? That's flattering." Talking too much was out of the question, as moving my mouth made the spring slip, and I didn't want to give the game away. You can hear me if I just think, can't you? I asked her.
'Yes. I can hear you.' she replied.
You're getting stronger, aren't you?
'Yes.'
I don't like this development.
'Well, that's your tough luck.'
A/N: Another short one, but I took last night off so I definitely wanted to post tonight. More tomorrow! Plus I got the lovely shooting script hardcover book at Borders for 30 percent off--and surprise: When you take the dust jacket off, there's a full color photo of You Know Who staring you in the eye.
