Worst Fear - a Joker Story
Meeoko
Summary : They say the night is darkest before the dawn. But I like the dark - I like it a lot! That's why I built an army. An army of fallen angels. Joker-focused fic. Begins just before The Dark Knight. Rated M.
Author's Note's : Okay. I've been getting a few questions asked recently, so I guess I'll just do it here. Hopefully, I'll answer all of the things you want to know.
How do you write your stories? Where do your ideas come from?
Well, whenever I start a chapter, I make a quota. Say five thousand words or so. And I won't even think about posting that chapter until I have met the five thousand word quota. Idea's I usually get from movies, books, poems, nightmares or real life experiences (I have a lot of nightmares). I don't really have a plan to any of my fictions. Usually, I just make it up chapter by chapter, with a rough idea of what I want and hope it turns out well. I have no plan, really. Just like The Joker.
I noticed The Joker likes that black haired girl. Is this going to turn into a JokerxOC fiction?
God no! Nope. Strictly no pairings in this fic (other than me fancying the hell out of Heath Ledger's Joker). If I do incorporate OC characters, I make sure that they only have a small role, and not a commanding one. Like the fat angel that had the explosive phone in him.
What happened to the little girl from The Joker's memory?
Ah, Libbit. Actually, I'm debating whether or not to continue on that memory. I actually have a few ideas for a sequel in the works as well, based on that little girl. Depends if you guys like this fiction enough to read it.
Is The Joker Bipolar or does he have split personality disorder?
Ah, I'm not giving anything away about his 'episodes'. Takes away from the mystique. If you read between the lines enough in the last chapter, you can usually figure out the answer. I think the closest clue is when he describes his episodes as 'the humanity'.
Don't we get to hear a bit more about the pretty angel? The one Newcomer likes?
Hmmm. If you really want me to, I can write a little bit more about Newcomer and the angel. Ok, so I say strictly no pairings. But is it technically a pairing if one of them is a mentally disturbed OC and the other is hardly mentioned in the film?
I want to hear a bit more about Newcomer's past.
Well, it can be arranged, certainly. But as with The Joker, I won't be giving too much away, or spelling it out for anyone in black and white. I'll give you hints and clues, but no direct answers. It just takes away from the mystery and complexity of the characters. Obviously, if you're good enough at reading between the lines, you'll understand what most of the hints are getting at. But yah, I'll work on it.
You're not going to kill off Jim, are you?
Hell no! Jim has an awesome moustache!
How long do you plan on making this fic?
To be honest – I have no idea! I suppose until the creative juices have exhausted themselves. That's the problem with making up a fiction as you go along. There's no structure. You literally stop writing when everyone either gets bored, or you run out of good ideas. If I had to give a ball-park number, I'd say about 20 chapters or so. Like the rest of my fics.
Something sparked.
Jim watched, transfixed as the line of fire trail down the building. His heart caught in his mouth as he ran towards it, realising what was happening. One heavy thumping footstep at a time. As if in slow motion.
The spark, blazing and white as it flew. His feet pounded against the floor, echoing in his ears. He heard someone shouting. But Jim couldn't beat gravity. Not even the Batman could.
The spark hit the floor.
Walls of towering, burning inferno's shot upwards, forcing Jim onto his backside. His eyes went wide as the flames roared, licking and spitting as it trailed from one end of the building to the other. Heat scorched at his face and he raised a hand to his face, desperately scrambling backwards. He looked upwards, seeing a small blazing fuse, dangling from the roof of the building. The wall of fire spread as it licked at the invisible gasoline trail, blazing into the path of his men. They licked and spat at the derelict double doors, climbing up the ancient and mouldy surface. The entrance was blocked.
"Goddamnit!" Jim screamed, rolling away from the blaze as quickly as he could. "Why the hell didn't anyone check for gas?!"
His sleeve was smouldering. He whacked at it, blind to the panic of the GPD around him as he bashed out the embers on his jacket. The sirens started up again, full force. Jim was momentarily blinded. All he could see were colours! What had happened? How the hell had they missed it? They hadn't had time! Nobody had had time!
Jim instantly looked at the little black device in his hands. The screen flickered and then Jim saw him. There he was, cackling, holding a knife up to a beautiful black haired girl's throat. The red smile bore down on Jim, mocking him, even when The Joker was eight floors up, facing the wrath of the Batman.
The fire began to spread, spitting and crackling around the entire building, circling it. Shaking his head in disbelief, Jim pulled himself together. Rising up off the floor, he backed away from the blaze, shouting orders to the chaotic array of men and women rushing around him.
"Henson! Get the Fire Department down here! Check for any gas leakages and for God's sake, get the surrounding buildings evacuated!"
"Romerez! Get a SWAT team onto the nearest roof! Take as many as you need! Take fire when the hostage is clear!"
"Laurel, you're with me! I want Special Units down here in three minutes! In three! Get air support on the phone! We need cover!"
It was chaos. The trail of fire began to climb up the building, slowly devouring all that was inside. The entrance was completely ablaze, the cracking sound of a wooden beam falling to the floor. Jim rushed towards the nearest patrol car, his hand already reaching to the radio at his vest. The image of Barbra flashed through his head once, smiling over at him from across the coffee table, sweeping away a strand of glistening hair. He swept the image away quickly. He couldn't let himself lose concentration! Not now!
Bang!
Jim dived for cover, hearing the shot. He heard somebody screaming orders and the sound of return fire as the crackling of the blaze echoed in the air. He pulled the cruiser door open, immediately ducking underneath it as he heard the ping of a bullet hit the bumper.
"Return fire! Return fire!" he screamed to his men. "Situation is hostile! We need to get those hostages out of there!"
Chancing a look round the safety of the cruiser door, Jim looked out into the chaos. He could see his men running, aiming up at the windows which surely held battle rifles inside and shouting. His eye caught Romerez, also hiding behind the door of a cruiser, clutching her shoulder. She'd been hit!
Jim felt fury running through his veins as the adrenaline of fear and rage soared to his heart. He looked up, puling his gun out of its holster as he did. He looked up, spotting a man at one of the windows. Hostage or goon, he didn't know. Taking aim, Jim took his shot.
The man staggered backwards away from the window, falling backwards.
"Where's Air Support?!" he screamed into his radio. "I need backup!"
He could hear the screech of sirens somewhere in the distance. He needed to put the blaze out! Who knew what was happening to the Batman up there?
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Bullets scraped against the hood of the cruiser and Jim ducked, shielding his eyes as fragments of glass burst from the wind shield. He darted his head around the door, firing off another few rounds. He saw his men falling. So many of them! How had this happened? Where was Batman?
He looked at the screen in his hand, wincing as the sound of gunfire rose above the roaring inferno and the screaming sirens. It was flickering, as if the Batman was on the move. He could hear the cackling voice echoing in the background, roaring with laughter over the flames.
"Tick tock, Batman!"
There was an explosion.
Jim dived for cover as another trail of fire sped past his cruiser, barely five feet away from him! He could hear someone screaming and smelt the stench of burning flesh. Looking up through the broken windshield, Jim watched the trail of fire speed towards the nearest building!
"Goddamnit!" he screamed, watching in horror as his glasses lit up against the blaze. "I need ACU now! This thing's gonna spread to Samson Street! Evacuate all surrounding area's!"
What the hell had happened? Why hadn't anybody seen the invisible fuse? They'd checked and double checked the building before midnight! How had something gone so wrong? He prayed to God that the boys back at headquarters were doing everything they could! It was like the Scarecrow incident all over again!
Ping! Ping! Ping!
Jim looked back over to Romerez, still grasping her shoulder behind the back of a patrol car. Clenching his teeth and taking a deep breath, Jim lunged forward. He ran full pelt through the noise, hearing the ricochet of bullets spraying behind him. He ducked behind a dumpster, returning fire at a man in a clown mask, leaning out of the burning building.
"Romerez!" he called, sticking his head around for a fraction of a second. "I'm coming!"
The sirens got louder. Jim could see the blue reflecting off of the empty walls. They were coming, but now he had the Fire Department to protect too!
"Fall back!" he screamed down the radio to his men. "Fall back to the main road! Fire department under heavy fire!"
"Gordon!"
Jim looked down at the little black device in his hand, astounded to hear the Batman's voice.
"He's got the hostages wired at Avenue X." the dark gravelly voice continued as the screen flickered. "I'm going after them. Can you hold this down?"
Jim tried not to burst into hysterical laughter. Couldn't the Batman see from way up on the roof? They didn't exactly have everything under control at the moment!
"We'll handle it!" he replied, desperate to have the hostages returned safely. "Go!"
It was then he took his chance. Darting out from behind the dumpster, Jim pelted towards the cruiser where Romerez was crouched. He heard the crack of beams breaking as he slid behind the cruiser, ducking underneath the bonnet as more bullets banged against the car.
"I'm hit, Gordon!" Romerez winced, handing him her gun.
God, the woman was vigilant! Taking the gun from her, Jim moved the rim of the bullet proof jacket away from her shoulder. The bullet has clipped the side, just entering near the shoulder bone. It had gone in at a wrong angle. It looked like a bad shot. Swallowing his heart in his mouth, Jim pulled her good arm over his shoulder and hoisted her weight onto him.
"Are you alright?" he asked, trying to pull her up. "Can you walk?"
She looked at him, incredulous. She almost looked angry. Jim tried not to mentally slap himself. That was a stupid thing to say. And when you pissed Romerez off, you really pissed her off!
"Goddamnit, Gordon!" Romerez snapped. "I'm no rook! Course I can walk! Let's get the hell out of here!"
Nodding, Jim took another deep breath and then lunged forward, the extra weight of Romerez making his heart soar up into his mouth. The gunfire continued, though his men had fallen back. The blaze licked further down the road, to the remaining buildings in the area. Thank Christ they were all derelict! But if the Fire Department didn't get here soon, the blaze would reach the populated area's!
"Move your ass, Gordon!" Romerez screamed in his ear as they ran.
Jim ducked lower, moving as fast as he could with her weight on his shoulder. It was unnecessary, he knew. But he wasn't leaving anybody behind! Especially Romerez!
They ran faster and faster, slowly leaving the blaze a little further behind. Jim was sweating and he wiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead. They ducked behind the patrol cars as they ran, slowly hearing the gunfire die down. Why were they stopping? Had the fire reached too high? And where was The Joker?
They heard the loud wail of sirens and stopped, both panting breathlessly. They lumbered the last few steps, to where a group of Jim's men were crowded behind a patrol car. Was that all that was left? Where were the rest?
"Gordon." one spoke, taking Romerez away fro him and hiding her behind the bonnet. "ACU's on its way, but the bridges are having trouble. They're gonna be another five minutes."
"Goddamnit." Jim cursed under his breath. He needed all the help he could get and the damn bridges were still having problems since the incidents last week.
"Hey Jim?"
Jim looked up. Romerez was looking at him, wincing and smiling at the same time. She was still clutching at her shoulder, which had started to seep a bit too much blood.
"Thanks." she said simply, smirking.
Jim nodded back. He couldn't manage a smile. Something screeched from behind them and Jim felt his heart soaring. Thank God! The Fire Department was here! He was going to get this son of a bitch if it was the last thing he did!
The gunfire had stopped completely and Jim chanced standing up from behind the cruiser. Waving at a few of his men to follow him, they jogged towards the red truck pulling in to the corner. Jim tried to concentrate on anything besides the fire. Why had the gunfire stopped? Where was the Joker? Had they all been lost to the fire consuming the building? It had sure as hell spread enough!
The truck came closer to them, slowing down carefully. Jim frowned. Why were they going so slowly? Couldn't they see the goddamn fire right in front of them?
It was then that Jim stopped breathing for a moment. The fire truck was full of clowns.
He smiled to himself. Jesus, that had been too easy!
Sure, it had been pretty goddamn funny to watch the Batman scurrying down the building like a rat out of a sewer. And it had been even better to watch the GPD falling like domino's. But the best thing about it all was that it had been for nothing!
The Joker smoothed back his hair, ruffling out the soot and ash that came tumbling out of it. Those freakin' morons sure had taken their precious time in getting there! He'd almost burnt to death! Oh well. If he had, he had. But they'd put the blaze out in enough time. Sure, it had been a gamble – but that was how he played. That was just the way he liked to do things. It was always harder than it was meant to be.
It was cool in the empty bathroom. He liked bathrooms, though he wasn't sure why. They were always so quiet. So cold. He spent most of his time alone. It wasn't like he was going to get any intelligent conversation from his army of hampsters, anyway.
The Joker took in a deep breath through his nose, smiling to himself. It had been a productive day. His proper introduction to the Bat had gone just as well as he had expected. Everything had gone off without a hitch. Batsy had lost his hostages and the GPD, only three of his 'angels' had died and with a bit of luck, nobody had still managed to put out the fires. Who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd spread to actual populated areas. But that'd be a gamble. The night had been interesting enough as it was. He didn't want to go wishing for too much.
"B-boss?"
Newcomer stood in the doorway, looking at his feet. The Joker looked at him in the reflection of the broke mirror, looking rather bored. It had been two hours since the fire. Now he had nothing else to do. It was lucky there were so many crappy, derelict building in Gotham, or he'd have nowhere else left to lay low.
"Yeah?"
Newcomer had been surprisingly spineless when it came to the fire. He hadn't known where to put himself. It had been fucking hilarious! He'd just stood there, with his mouth hanging open like a fish (but then again, that's how most of them looked). But it was pretty goddamn funny when he'd started gasping in the smoke. Even more so when the Batman had scurried off to save the 'hostages' and The Joker had thrown Sweetheart at him. Jesus, Newcomer had looked like he was going to crap himself! He'd nearly laughed himself off the side of the building!
The Joker tittered to himself, licking his lips. It was endearing, in a way. But that was only because they were both very likely to die in the next two weeks or so. Sure, he'd be sad to see them go, but sacrifices had to be made!
"Th-the bad men are ready." Newcomer muttered, still not taking his eyes away from the floor.
He sighed heavily. It was strange, really. Sure, he was looking forward to it. It'd been his idea in the first place. But things just seemed so.....rushed. Rushing was not something that he liked to do. If you were going to do something, you had to do it properly. He wondered when was the last time that he'd had a bath. Probably quite a while.
"Fine." he sighed, turning away from the bathroom mirror towards Newcomer. "I trust my friend Gordon is comfortable?"
The boy nodded nervously to the floor. The Joker smiled, although the boy's nervousness irritated him. It was a good thing, fear. But it did get quite tiring after a while. Jesus! Was there nobody besides the Bat in Gotham City that would stand up to him?
Fucking morons. He thought to himself.
Straightening his tie, The Joker walked out of the bathroom, smacking Newcomer on the back of the head as he did so. Just for good measure. The boy cowered and slunk away back into the shadows like a reptile. No. Not a reptile. A reptile would strike once it came back out of the shadows. Newcomer would not. A reptile had balls. Newcomer did not.
Swinging his purple coat onto his shoulders, The Joker headed for the stairs. It was lucky they had found this place, really. It was better than taking them back to the apartment anyway. It was starting to stink with all of the bodies piled inside. He'd have to find somewhere new before they ended up getting rats. Sure, he didn't mind if they chewed on some of the 'angels' for a while, but he hated rats. They scared the crap out of him, although he couldn't figure out why. Probably something he'd seen or heard a few years ago. It was getting so much harder to remember stuff these days.
Kicking open the fire door at the bottom of the stairs, The Joker headed for the basement. At least now he'd get to have a bit of fun. He hadn't had this much fun since the incident at Archym. Things were beginning to heat up now! And the Bat had never suspected! He obviously hadn't done his research well enough. And now, he'd paid the price. Eventually, they all did.
He remembered his father telling him something once when he was younger.
"Never trust a clown."
He snorted through his nose. Pfft! Yeah, sure. Words of wisdom from the old man. Should have listened to his own goddamn advice.
"Sure, pa." he muttered to himself. "Never trust the clowns..."
Newcomer watched the boss go. His head hurt. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. The boss didn't usually hit him unless he had done something wrong.
"It's because you're a big screw-up." the little voices snapped at him. "Because he doesn't like you."
Newcomer frowned, waving a hand to dismiss the little clouded voices. He shouldn't listen to them, he knew. Of course the boss liked him! He wasn't second angel for nothing! It was because the voices were jealous! They were always jealous.
His eyes were stinging. He hadn't liked the fire. It had been too bright. Too hot. Newcomer hated being hot. It reminded him too much of the White Rooms and the coats with lots of arms. The smoke had gotten in his eyes. Now they were all itchy. Itchy and puffy. It was very annoying.
The boss had gone to talk to the bad people. He knew what to do. The boss always knew what to do. He'd seen that man again. The leader of the bad men. The one with the big fuzzy moustache. It made Newcomer want to laugh. It looked like a big furry slug!
Tittering to himself, Newcomer decided it was time to be moving. He didn't know where or why, but he just...knew. He had to be moving somewhere. There were lots of dark hiding places to explore in the new building and the boss wouldn't be back for hours. The boss always took quite a long time whenever he went to talk to bad people.
He took the stairs two at a time. He was thinking. Thinking very hard. Why did the boss hit him? Was he angry? Was he sad? Had Newcomer done something wrong? He didn't think he had. Or maybe it had something to do with the Batman. Maybe the boss was angry that the flightless demon had run away like a big coward, just when the boss was going to strike. Maybe it was Newcomer's fault. Maybe he had lit the fuse wrong....
"You always do it wrong!" the voices chirped. "Because you're useless! You're a big, stupid, useless thing!"
Newcomer pouted, beginning to grow a little angry. The voices were being especially nosey today. He wished they would be quiet and leave him alone. And he was pretty sure that somebody was following him again. Somebody was always following him.
Newcomer was so lost in his thoughts that when he bumped into something, he barely noticed. He looked up. His mouth fell open slightly when he saw what it was he had walked into.
Sweetheart.
There she was. His angel, looking up at him from behind big curtains of shiny black hair. She looked down at the floor, her bottom lip trembling. Newcomer's mouth hung open for a minute before he remembered to shut it again. His angel, Sweetheart. What did he do? He didn't know how to talk to pretty girls? What if the pretty angel thought he was just being stupid? But would she really? He was second angel, after all. He was important. Wasn't he?
She had blue eyes. He liked blue. Blue was a safe colour. Blue was nice. Sweetheart was nice. He was sure of it.
For a moment, they both stood where they were on the landing, each looking at the floor. Sweetheart was swaying on her feet a little. It looked like she was dancing. Newcomer couldn't dance. He didn't know how.
"You're pathetic!" the voices squealed in his ear. "Angels don't talk to the dirt!"
Newcomer sniffed, chewing on his lip. He wasn't dirt! He was an angel! More than that – he was second angel! Second important! And angels did speak to other angels! He'd show those stupid voices! He'd show them just how shiny and good he was! Just as shiny and good as Sweetheart!
"...I...you-you like the dark?" he stuttered, though he couldn't look up at her. Instead he looked at his shoes.
He saw the curtains of curly black hair bob up and down, as if she were nodding. She was looking at the floor too. It was okay. Looking at people made Newcomer feel scared. Even if they had shiny hair.
"I-I like the dark." he repeated, feeling a tug of happiness. "I like it a lot."
Silence. They stood there for a few moments, each looking at the floor. Newcomer realised how dirty it was. All covered in mud and gunk. It was icky. He hoped that the boss would find somewhere a bit nicer to go to next time. This place smelt like tears.
"I remember....flowers."
Then he did look up. The pretty angel had her head still bowed, a single brilliant blue eye peeking out from behind her curly, shiny hair. There wasn't much behind her eyes, but Newcomer still thought they looked so shiny. Like mist. Pretty, shiny mist.
"Flowers." she repeated, sniffing. "Lots of....lots of pretty ones. They were on the window."
Newcomer felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Like the boss got when he had an idea. He...he remembered too. The flowers. The pretty white flowers on the outside. On the window boxes!
"White." he said, chancing another glance at her face. "Pretty and white."
Slowly, Sweetheart lifted her head. Newcomer held his breath. The curtains of hair fell back slightly and he thought that he was looking at the most prettiest angel in the entire world! The misty blue eyes looked at him for a fraction of a second before darting away again. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"You remember?" she asked, a tiny smile creeping at one corner of her mouth.
Newcomer nodded. He did remember. Sometimes when it was warm outside and the sun rose in his window, he could see the pretty flowers through the bars. They rose with the sun, like little soldiers.
"You...you have the white butterflies?"
She nodded back, her eyes once again falling to the floor.
"I think...I think...I do."
Newcomer tried to smile, but it wouldn't come. There! He'd shown those stupid voices! He was talking to his angel, wasn't he? He told them so! And her voice was as sweet and smooth as sliding honey. It made the other voices smaller. Even they stopped talking to hear the pretty sound.
"You do..." she mumbled behind her curtain of hair.
She raised a finger and Newcomer winced slightly. But his heart stopped jumping around when he saw that Sweetheart was pointing at his eye.
"There." Sweetheart mumbled.
Newcomer tried to look at his own eye, but it was very hard. Eyes weren't made to look at themselves. That would be vain. Was she saying his butterflies were in his eyes? He didn't know. He didn't know what colour his eyes were. He supposed that they must be white, or else Sweetheart wouldn't have seen them.
The twitch at his mouth slowly turned into a small smile. Yes. His angel had seen his butterflies.
"These are scenes shown from earlier on tonight of the blaze spreading towards the Gotham Bridges. 23 estimated deaths, whilst almost 78 people were admitted to Gotham General to be treated for burns and smoke inhalation. The cause of the blaze is still unknown, although the investigation is ongoing as volunteer fire fighter desperately tried to get the blaze under control."
Alfred sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long night and Master Wayne was not happy. Not happy at all.
The great Gotham Fire had been plastered all over the news, and Master Wayne had had a front row seat. Only this had not been a performance that Alfred was sure he wanted to catch. The fire had slowly spread to Samson Street when the GPD discovered that the Gotham Fire Department had been knocked unconscious and locked in the fire house. Their uniforms had been stolen and one truck was missing. It had taken almost half an hour to get a response out and by that time, the blaze had spread beyond control. Luckily, someone had thought ahead to evacuate that half of the city, but even so – the fire had claimed many. Too many.
Master Wayne was furious. He had come home to the penthouse in the small hours, slamming a fist into the nearest priceless painting as he did so. He had been duped. And quite badly so. Alfred remembered someone saying something to him once.
"Never trust a clown's smile."
Alfred shook his head, washing down the asprin in his hand with a glass of water. Master Wayne had spent most of the night alone in his room, refusing to speak to Alfred, no matter how hard he tried.
This new madman he was after – The Joker – had sent him on a wild goose chase. Some hostages on Avenue X that hadn't really been there. Oh, there had been the fuse bombs that he had promised, but nothing else. And Master Wayne had been singed and blown half to bloody Devon for his troubles. But when he got back to Greater City Avenue, the entire place had gone up in flames, unrecognisable in the wild fire consuming Gotham. Master Wayne had done his part to extinguish the blaze, but even he had his limits.
"Like I'm always bloody telling him." Alfred mumbled to himself.
Ever since, Master Wayne had spent most of his time in his room, trying to track the communicator that he had given the Officer Gordon before the blaze had started. But he didn't seem to be having much luck. It seemed that Officer Gordon and his unit had perished in the blaze and Master Wayne was not taking it too well.
He had fought with those men by his side, he'd known them, helped them. It was understandable that he should feel the way he did. But there was only so much that Alfred could do. If Master Wayne didn't want to listen to him, then there wasn't much that he could do about it. Until he was ready to listen, Alfred would wait. He could almost see the cogs turning in his young master's head, winding up too tightly until they were ready to spring.
Alfred didn't like to see him this way. It was far from the plucky young boy who had often asked him so fervently to tell him stories about his time in the Gandi. He was still young, after all. And he was digging himself an early grave. Especially with this new bloody nutcase running around. Master Wayne was in too deep. Wayne Enterprises had been suffering recently, although Lucius Fox was doing a grand job keeping it afloat. If Master Wayne didn't slow down soon, he was going to finish himself off before any of the scum of Gotham's underbelly could get a chance.
"...unit of patrol cars, led by Officer Jim Gordon is reported missing. Gotham City Police Head of Communication, Lieutenant David Price claims to have lost contact with the squad's head minutes before a fire truck was spotted outside Samson Street. The very same truck that was reported missing from Gotham City Fire Department just hours ago."
Alfred looked up at the television screen. There was a picture of Officer Jim Gordon, along with speed camera footage of the missing fire truck speeding along Samson Street.
"Police say that the disappearances may be linked to the theft, although Fire Sergeants are still combing the source of the fire earlier today for casualties..."
Rising up from his chair, Alfred rubbed at his temples before heading out of the kitchen and down the hall. He was sure that Master Wayne would like to hear about this.
It was dark. He couldn't see much. They had taken him when he hadn't been expecting it, and now he was going to have to pay.
"Goddamn moron." he muttered to himself, leaning forward in the chair. "Shouldn't be jeopardising yourself for some snot-nosed kid. Do I feel bad about killing Mommy and Daddy? Pfft! Like hell I do...."
And he didn't. The humanity wasn't really that deep. Not yet. It was getting easier to ignore it now. But there had just been a soft spot there that he couldn't get rid of. For the red haired little girl whose parents he had murdered. He hoped she was okay.
"No, damnit!" he muttered angrily. "I don't. I don't. No. Doesn't matter. I don't care. I don't....care. Not my responsibility."
But he couldn't help but feel responsible. He knew it wasn't him. It was the other one. The humanity. It was getting harder to silence these days.
The door opened and light flooded the darkened garage. He winced. It had been a long time since he'd seen light. How long had it been now? Three days? He though it was three, though he was pretty sure he'd been knocked out for most of it. Damn, he was hungry! Didn't these people ever get bored? Maybe he would just get it over and done with and kill them today. It was only a matter of time.
They practically ran in, one throwing a punch into his stomach as he did so. He grunted, leaning forward in the chair, the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Goddamnit. Always hitting first, asking questions later! Didn't they know what they were doing? He looked up, letting out a puff of air.
"Here to see....me?" he tittered, ignoring the pain in his stomach.
The biggest towered over him. He couldn't make out his face, but he would bet anything that it was fat and ugly. Two more came to join him, standing beside him with crossed arms. He looked up at them, his bad eye stinging like a bitch. But he wouldn't let them know that.
"You gonna tell me the code now, Clown Boy?"
He rolled his eyes. They had been through this already. Didn't people realise that he had a huge tolerance for pain? They could be at this for weeks at a time and get no answer!
"I said..." the voice repeated, slowly. "tell me the code, kid."
He looked over at him sarcastically, pouting. These people would never learn. It was weird. He supposed he still was a kid. But he didn't feel like one. He'd had to grow up pretty goddamn quick when he was a kid. But really, it was genius! Just think! A kid - taking down the entire of New Orion City's mob. All by himself – just for shits and giggles! The thought made him smile. He had his hobbies, they had theirs.
"Ya know..." he managed through his broken lip. "....a flamingo has it knees in the back of its legs."
He laughed, rocking back in his chair and hooting. He swung his head backwards, laughing at the incompetent morons. They would be at this forever! He could outlast them!
One of the men lunged forward, grabbing him by the back of the hair and pulling him forward. But he kept laughing. He showed no other signs of emotion. They would only devour him in he did. That had been the only thing keeping him alive all these years. People feared what they could not control, and would not challenge what they feared.
"I'll put your knees in the back of your legs, ya little bastard!" the man screamed, losing his temper.
Jesus, his breath stank. How much longer was he going to have to sit and listen to this? He was used to it, after all. It had been happening to him for years. Jesus! He'd only just got out of the hospital! Now he was probably gonna end up going right back in! He was pretty sure his wrists were already broken and his ribs hurt like a bitch!
"I'm getting' tired, freak." the man rasped, barely an inch away from his face.
He winced. He didn't like that word.
"Jesus," he mumbled, trying not to laugh at the man. "your breath stinks."
He got a slap in the face for his trouble. His lip was beginning to bleed again. He chewed on it for a while, staring the bulky shadow of a man directly in the face. He wasn't afraid of these people. He wasn't afraid of anything! He knew he should have been, but he wasn't. He had been born without the fear gene. And instead born with the chaos gene.
"We got ways of makin' you talk, kid."
Slowly, an ugly reptilian smile spread across the man's face in the darkness. His teeth were pearly white. Almost like crystals. He was getting bored now. Next time, he wouldn't even bother taking their stupid don! It just wasn't worth the bother. These people were so boring.
"Ya don't say." he replied, trying to ignore the man's putrid breath. "And I uh, I guess pulling out my toe nails isn't enough, huh?"
Suddenly, he heard a scream. He knew that scream. All too well.
His blood ran cold. The shadowy smile grew larger in the darkness as his face dropped. He wasn't smiling any more.
"You wouldn't!" he spat in the man's face. "You fuckin' pigs wouldn't dare!"
The darkness nodded, pulling his head forward a little more. He grit his teeth together, snarling at the man. No. Not that. Anything but that! God fucking damnit, why did he even care?!
"No." the man whispered, barely audible in his ear. "We wouldn't. That's why you're gonna do it."
It was then he saw Liberty.
Author's Note's : Hm'kay. Thought I'd get things a bit faster paced in this chapter. Hopefully, the first chapter with Jim was written alright. I'm not very good at action scenes.
I decided to do something I hadn't done before in this fiction. I put in Alfred's point of view. I won't be doing it from Bruce Wayne/Batman's point of view though. I like to keep this a strictly Joker based fiction. But by using Alfred in the story, you get a more rounded picture. Hope it worked!
Sorry the update took so long. I still don't have the Internet at my new place yet, so updates will be sow in coming.
