A Piece Of Glass

By Breech Loader


Breech: Yeah, I'm still writing. Three points of view in one chapter. That's not exceptional. We're really getting into people's heads here. The important thing is that you're getting to see how Breech is getting to think.


Chapter Nine: Social Experiment

I don't usually take much interest in women.

Well, no more so than men, anyway.

And get your minds out of the gutter. You know I'm talking about the dynamite factor here.

The only women who get my attention, are the interesting ones. Like that... uh... Rachel Dawes, that was her name. For a moment I almost would have let her live. She saw me holding a knife to that stupid old man's neck, and when not a single other person in that room full of men and women who claimed they were good people would step forward and tell me to let him go, she did.

It's the sign of either an idiot, or a good person.

It's always interesting to find out which one they are. That's where the shiv comes in handy. It's useful for testing people.

Breech here is also interesting. And here I thought she'd be easy to manipulate. She takes things at face value. She listens to everything she's told. But then some little comment I make that would make just about anybody wriggle like a worm on a hook... that sort of thing, she just looks at me and... takes it.

In Arkham, I heard she was high risk, and I wondered what might set her off. None of the usual things, it seemed. In fact she seemed so dull at first, that I wondered why they considered her high-risk at all. All the time she was fucking Scarecrow, the security tapes were handed around Arkham like something out of a porno flick. So I brought it up in one of my taped sessions. Then they had to do something. I was just wondering if Crane was her lever.

If only it was that simple, huh?

She didn't throw tantrums or cause fights or break down like regular, dull people might. What she did was take action. They were force-feeding her by the end of the week, and then they gave up and she and Scarecrow won. They barely needed to hide it after that. The shrinks of course, claimed it was better for both of the patients that way, what with it being consensual. That it helped them.

That made me laugh, considering what I know about Scarecrow just from the news. They couldn't bear to admit they'd lost, that they made up the biggest lie of all just to save their skins... and they were condemned for it.

"This is a mob hideout."

I look at her. She's looking at where the car came to a stop, "You're not, uh... afraid, are you?" I chuckle.

She tilts her head, in that delightful way that means she's going to tell the truth, "No. I'm just curious as to what you intend to do while you're in there. After all, those men in there must know your face now. They'll kill you on sight, if only to stop you killing them first."

"I have a little idea, Breech. That's all. You've been very, uh... honest with me so far. But now I want to stop playing games. I want to give you a chance to show me the real you. You said you, uh... wanted to make your mark in Gotham. Here's where you start."

She cocks her head again, "There really is nothing you're afraid of, isn't there?" she says finally.

I laugh at the very idea of it for some time.

She shrugs and produces her gun, "Then this is your experiment, Joker. I just hope the results... satisfy you. Whatever they may be."

"Just, uh... act natural, Breech," I smirk, "I don't want to uh... cloud the results of this little experiment."


"What the-"

The mobsters are instantly reaching for guns as we walk into the room. Trouble is I've already got mine in hand. The shotgun. It's already loaded and pumped and all I have to do is fire a hole through a guy's chest. Joker grins and holds up something that definitely looks like a small grenade.

"Tsk, tsk, gentlemen. Let's not blow this out of proportion."

"I know you," one of the men stammers after a few seconds, "You're that guy who practically ran the city a few months back. You're the Joker!"

"Ran the city? Ran the city?" Joker puts a look of shock on his face, and sucks on his scars, "All I did was kill a few people and blow up a couple of buildings. I never ran the city. I never made anybody do anything they didn't have in them to do already."

The mobsters look terrified. There's about a dozen of them, with guns, and two of us. All I did was blow a hole through some guy. It seems they don't know whether to be more afraid of the feline freak with the shotgun or the clown with the grenade. They seem to be settling for Joker.

"Wh-what do you want?"

"Ah, the direct approach. I like that. See, I've got Breech Loader here. Fresh outta Arkham. Like me! But there's, uh... a problem with her. See, my lady in red can't exactly run down to the shops and get me some coffee without being, uh... noticed."

They look at me again, and now their faces are registering looks of disbelief, as if it's impossible for me to exist. They look away, trying to ignore it, but they can't. I've only met two people in this world so far who honestly didn't think about it as being a problem for me. Three if you count the Joker.

"This means I need some, uh... new, human mooks. Reliable, honest, hardworking... capable of killing a guy without blinking. Kinda like Breech here!" he grins, "So, I'll give it to you straight gentlemen. The man who kills her takes her place."

"Kill her? Why?" asks somebody. I give Joker a venomous glare.

The Joker examines a glove with boredom, and pulls out one of his many, many shivs. Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he throws it into the guy's throat, "The thing is, it's only the guy who kills her, who gets to take her place," he says calmly as the guy falls gurgling to the floor, "The rest of you? You're going to be expendable after that. I'm a man of my word."

They all shudder at those words.

"I'm not killing some harmless little freak just for you to get a kick out of watching a murder," some big guy states. But he's looking at the two dead bodies while he's saying it. The Joker is pulling out another shiv. And they're all turning to look at me.

And I start laughing. I can't help it. I hardly even know why I'm laughing. I look up at them, turning to look at each other now, as if trying to decide which one of them gets the privilege of killing me and living.

"Tell you what, boys," I look up eventually at the men, because the Joker is starting to look at me just a little bit too expectantly, "I'll make it easy for you to decide."

And I fire the shotgun again, this time aiming at a guy's kneecap. The blast causes him to lose half his leg. Finally those remaining men realise what's good for them and pull their weapons; guns and shivs – and move in on me.

It's remarkably easy to kill them. I've dropped the shotgun, lacking reload time, but I've still got the rapid-fire fully loaded. And besides, a bunch of the guys at the back are killing the ones at the front to try and get at me.

Not one of them thinks of going for the Joker, or running for the door.

I think I shoot down five, and rip up two with my claws, and wound a bunch of them. The rest of them are too busy killing each other to get to me. The last guy actually standing, I finish off by performing a spin-kick so hard, he's smashed through the window, and falls three stories. I wonder if he survived. It's not important.

I'm so high on adrenaline, that it's not until some time afterwards that I realise a bullet made a hole through one ear.

One of them is wounded – badly, but that's irrelevant. He'll do nicely.

He looks up at me, terrified, "You're crazy..." he gasps, "You're some sort of crazy freak monster..."

"Me, the monster?" I ask him, reloading the shotgun and putting a foot on his chest, "Thirty seconds ago you shot your buddy... Bob, let's call him Bob shall we? You shot Bob in the back for the sole purpose of getting to kill me on the offchance that the Joker would keep to his word and let you live. And you are calling me the monster?"

He looks away.

"Don't look away from me," I growl, and he looks back hastily. I continue, "Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of... Steve. Is Steve your name? It's not important; it won't be for much longer. Your behaviour... is practically normal. The majority of people would do it."

He's starting to cry, "Don't kill me, don't kill me..." Other injured men are whimpering as they listen to me speaking. As for me, I'm saying this for the Joker's benefit as much as theirs.

"Now my, aha... friend, the Joker... he doesn't believe in right and wrong, good and evil," I stand up and move to another man who's still alive, "As far as I can tell, he just thinks everybody's a bad person. Can you blame him? With guys like you to serve as examples? But me, I think that there are good people and bad people. It just so happens, that the bad people vastly outnumber the good people. That means they're the ones in control. They decide what should be right and wrong, and because they're bad people, they decide that whatever they do, it's not wrong and it's not cowardly. Like your bosses. Well..." I move on to the next guy, "I'm going to separate the good people from the bad people. And then I'm going to separate the heroes from the cowards. And then I'm going to clean up this city. I'm going to find a way to make it clean, even if I have to burn it to the ground. And when I'm done, do you know what the very last thing I'm going to do is? I'm going to look in the mirror, and I'm going to clean up myself."

I step back, "Everything is temporary, gentlemen. Everything comes to an end. The very definitions of good and bad change. Even gods don't last forever. There is no constant, there is only one thing in this universe that is absolutely inevitable. And that is death. But death is nothing to fear, gentlemen!" I tell them cheerfully, "Death is one of the best cards you can be dealt! It just means that one thing is coming to an end. This, gentlemen, is only the beginning."

The Joker giggles behind me, "Very good, Breech. Very good. You really, uh... lived up to my expectations. Now... finish the job."

"It's not that I'm squeamish," I say quickly, "But honestly, if I kill everybody in this room, how will they ever be able to instil some decent fear of me into this city?"

"Easy," he sucks on his scars and holds up a small camera, pointing it at himself, "This insight on the illusion of human decency was brought to you by Joker-vision. As an agent of chaos, I'm just going to continue blowing shit up soon enough. But Breech here... she's going to be doing exactly what our good friend the Batman does – she's going to be killing people in the name of justice. Breech, choose your calling card," he offers me a selection of Face cards from a deck. I can't help but notice the Queen of Hearts is on top.

"No thanks," I smirk, "I brought my own deck." I hold up a pack of Tarot cards I bagged at the grocery store the other night.

"And, um... which is your card?" the Joker smirks, "Judgement? The Hanged Man? Death?" his eyes sparkle dangerously and he smirks again, "The Lovers?"

Tread carefully, Breech. Tread very carefully, "I find it's best to play with a full deck," I reply. And so, I flick the cards, scattering them across the room, "Now, if you would?" I ask, gesturing for the camera to face me again. He obliges, "Listen up, Gotham City. My name is Breech Loader. And I hear you want a hero. You want one so badly, you don't care that he is a liar and a murderer. Well, you'll have your heroes, soon enough. Death... is only a new beginning."

And I set about 'finishing the job'.


"That's where the tape ends, Batman," Commissioner Gordon grimaces, "Loranski shot all the remaining men and then left laughing. With the Joker. He dropped off the tape outside a news station. Those murders didn't faze Loranski in the slightest."

"They wouldn't," I reply grimly, "She doesn't fully grasp the normal rules of right and wrong any more. If she ever did."

"What does she want?" Gordon asks, "Me? You? Money and power?"

"That's the point," I shake my head, "She doesn't say what she wants. In fact I don't think she knows what she wants. But once she'd killed those men – for the Joker's amusement as much as for her own necessities – the Joker could have killed her and then killed the rest – much more slowly than she did. He let her live."

"What possible use could somebody like the Joker find for Loranski?" Sergeant Bullock asks behind us loudly, "She's a... a..."

"She's full of anger – at everyone and everything - and she doesn't know what to do with it," I answer for him, "Doubtless the Joker intends to direct it. But I think he'll fail. He's too used to manipulating humans. Breech has sacrificed the learning and direction of humans for the simplicity and necessities of animals. She killed those men quickly, where the Joker would doubtless have played his sick games with them, and made them suffer. There's humanity left in her yet."

"Humanity? In that-" Bullock starts behind me.

"Would you rather see more humanity in the Joker?" I ask him sharply, before swinging away.


Harley: Okay, read and review!