Chapter IX

There was a sudden chill in the air that made my body mentally shake from head to toe, as though a shawl had covered my entire body from being exposed to the previous atmosphere I recently endured. Whether this was a good thing or not, my mind wasn't yet in the clearing, so I couldn't determine that subject for the moment. Or so I thought.

I noticed that the atmosphere felt a lot more realistic than it would mentally, meaning my mind was finally clearing up. My eyes fluttered open as I placed one of my hands on my forehead, immediately I noticed the extricate details of the room I was in. It was the living room. There was no one else in the room other than my stupid conscious and me. I rose from the soft cushioning of the couch I had been sleeping on — probably for some time — and flailed my arms out to stretch out the kink in my back.

What the hell happened last night? I wondered.

As my arms relaxed I looked down to see that I was fully clothed again after having my t-shirt torn apart by The Joker. I still had my old pants — and luckily they weren't dismantled — but instead of the shirt I used to wear I had a gray tank top on with beaded embellishments on the scoop neck part. I noticed the price tag was still intact to the tank top, suggesting that The Joker was too lazy enough to actually pay for the shirt. Isn't that obvious? Although I do have to say I'm quite stunned The Joker would buy something a bit nicer than a simple tank top…maybe it was on the clearance rack or something…

I stood up and glanced around my surroundings; there wasn't a single peep in the apartment complex, not even the sound of a cricket chirping as seen in the old cartoons when someone makes up a bad joke and the audience goes silent. How odd.

I walked over to the door arch and poked my head out to scan out the hallway, which was also vacant of human life. Did the whole gang leave or something? I asked myself as I took a step forward and stood right in the middle of the hallway, musing as to why it was abnormally quiet. Maybe they did leave, probably to do their dirty work. I cocked my head to the side to see the door in full view.

My one-way ticket to freedom had finally arisen.

I darted over to the door and once I approached my hand shot out for the door handle, tugging on it with all my might. The door didn't budge.

He fucking locked it.

This is perfect. Just perfect. My sarcasm is not as good as you think, but this was enough for me to blow fumes from my ears. I kicked the door hard enough to make it echo down the hallway.

"Great!" I exclaimed.

Ironically, he is not as dumb as I thought. I would have thought he'd be somewhat dumb — for crying out loud the guy wears makeup like a woman, just only to the extremes. My mind really did change about him when previously I said there was an innocent man underneath the makeup: he was cold hearted. End of story.

With my back facing the door, I sighed.

"How the hell am I going to get out of here?" I mumbled.

:: :: ::

Commissioner Gordon stomped around in his office, outranged of the predicament his family was currently in. His daughter — probably being tortured — was a hostage to The Joker, and now his son was pissed at him for purposively not getting enough help to find Barbara, in which he decided then he would find her without his dad's help.

Already, things were getting slippery on his end of the string.

His mind was interrupted when one of his colleagues, Greg Warden, a new employee in the Major Crimes Unit, suddenly swung the door open and stormed into the room as he was being followed by a trail of camera crew and news reporters. Camera lights were flashing off like fireworks as Greg pushed on the door to close it shut. When they saw Jim, they were taken by surprise when he turned his back on them.

The questions were flying out at him like boomerangs.

"Commissioner, is your daughter okay?"

"Commissioner, do you know if The Joker has plans to use her?"

"Commissioner!"

"Commissioner!"

By then, Greg was furious enough to throw a fit at the annoying reporters. "Get the hell out!" The door finally inched and he slammed it shut with his back against the door, sighing with relief in his tone. "Stupid news reporters."

Jim turned to him finally, wondering if all was well so far, especially since he wanted to know if they have found anything out on The Joker's whereabouts.

"Have we got any more clues on where they went?" He asked him.

Greg shook his head. "I'm sorry, Commissioner. We've done what we can to find little Babs, but we are still looking."

Jim sighed, despair shrouding him. "All I want to know is she alive…"

"I promise you, we will find her."

"But when is what I'm wondering. By then will she be the same Babs I used to know?"

Greg brought his gaze to the ground, not wanting the commissioner to see. "The Joker can't be that easy to inflict people."

I like to think likewise, Jim mused. Look what he did to me.

"If you'd known him like I do, you would have been able to see how easily he can do such a thing."

:: :: ::

I had been thinking about suicidal plans if I couldn't find a way to escape, but then again being suicidal was not a smart idea. It would prove to The Joker that crime can easily inflict people and their actions, his point he had mentioned at his interrogation days ago somehow rubbed off of me. Suicide was crossed off my potential ideas list, and it was ready to be filled with new ideas I'd come up with in the meantime as I wait for the next chapter to start in this crazy 'hostage' saga.

Just then, I heard a vibrating noise that was coming from the living room, and I walked over to find a cell phone scattering across the coffee table. To my surprise, it was my cell phone. I didn't know I still had my phone on me, I would have thought The Joker would have taken it or something...

There was a high pitched bleep afterward, and the phone stopped vibrating. I picked it up and flipped the phone open; an enveloped appeared on the screen.

New Text Message.

I chuckled slightly.

"Well, at least I have contact with the outside world." I said as I clicked on a button to open up the text message, in which then the message appeared.

C:

I was dumbfounded by the unusual message.

"Huh?"

I opened up a new screen to enter a text message to the mysterious person that sent me the smiley face. I imputed a few question marks as my response and clicked the send button.

Seconds later, a new message arrived.

Morning, Sunshine.

"Looks who's awake finally!"

I jumped in my place and spun around on the balls of my heels to meet The Joker face to face once more. Surprisingly, he was without makeup on his face — his chest was bare showing all signs of brutality that had been taken upon his body for years. A gray towel was wrapped around his lower abdomen, with one of his hands clutching at the ends of it to keep it from falling.

Already this situation was awkward enough — there was a partially naked Joker standing right before me, and yet he kind of smelled…decent. For once he cared about hygiene.

I shook my head, reminding myself whom I was facing with at the moment. At the moment I shook my head, I come to notice a cell phone in one of his freed hands. He was looking at it as though he couldn't decipher something on the screen. "I would have thought it'd take hours for you to get that message — knowing how service is horrible around here. But I'm surprised you got it already."

I scrutinized at him as I lifted my phone up to my face. "You sent me those text messages?"

"Can't a guy at least get a gal's number for once?"

"Um…not mine in particular."

He grinned at his phone and threw it on the sofa where it landed carelessly in between the cushions. "You were wild last night."

"What?"

"Oh yeah — you were drunk as a skunk. You wouldn't have figured it out."

Oh, hell I did. "For your information, you drugged me up by giving me those weird pills."

"Well, sweetheart. Pills and booze don't mix." He turned his back on me as he headed down the hallway; I followed along and into the same bedroom where he tied me up to his desk. I guess it was his bedroom — no wonder why there were so many disheveled suits in his closet. He walked behind his desk where he pulled out a chair and slides it across the grainy floor.

"Have a seat, Babsy." He said, before he gave me another chilly look of disgust when I didn't respond to his offering.

Sit Babs or else he'll kill you. My conscious told me.

The look kept in place, in the abyss of his irises I could see how pissed off he was. I scuttled over and carefully sat down as he began to walk towards the bed where he picked at a pile of clothing and put each piece on one at a time. He fastened the button on his pants and snapped on a silver keychain with something dangling off the end, he tucked the object into his pocket and strapped a belt around his waist.

"Now, apparently thing aren't going the way as planned," he said. "I think we started off on the wrong foot." With his hands extended out, he made both of his index fingers wind around in circles. "Why don't we reverse the clock and start over?"

"And what was your plan?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just getting to know you for a first."

Oh great, he's going to ask me more about my dumb past.

"So you weren't a partier until you go to college. How was your relationship with your dad?"

"It's been strong since I was a teenager."

"Same for your mother and brother?"

"Yes." I said flatly. "I care about them very much."

"I'm not surprised to hear you say that." He adjusted the collar of his blue honeycomb shirt and buttoned it to the nip of his neck. "People say they love their family very much, even when they have had a troubled past."

"I wasn't troubled."

"Until the partying started." He chuckled, and slung on his green vest. "Were your parents partiers when they were young?"

"They never really mentioned anything about that, so I guess they weren't."

"Well, something must have inflicted the wild behavior."

"Hey, when you're in college for the first time, two things that come to mind are sobrieties and toga parties."

The Joker looked up as though he were pleasantly musing the ideas of college life. "Oh, the days of toga parties…"

My eyes broadened for a split second. "You went to college?" I seriously wanted to laugh at the fact he actually went to college. It would be hard to picture a clown sitting in class with notebooks and textbooks at end. The typical nerd — although I couldn't see him that way either.

He squared his shoulders and answered, "For about a month, then I dropped out."

That's quite obvious of him.

"What were you planning on doing?"

"Something in the tech careers."

No wonder he's so good at making bombs. I happened to have remembered how unusually quiet the apartment complex was, and had the guts to ask him why.

"The guys headed out early, and Andrew is coming by with the truck." He slung on the light purple coach coat and his purple wool jacket on top.

"Are we going on some kind of adventure of yours?"

"Technically speaking, yes." He walked over to his desk and pulled out one of the drawers to get something; a white shopping bag was soon once he took it out, tubes could be clearly seen through the bag.

"Be right back for a second." He leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. "And don't try to nose your way out of this place. I forgot to mention this complex has traps all about."

I groaned. "I got that loud and clear, general."

For a moment I thought I heard him say "fucking bitch", but then again I could have been imagining things. I heard the bathroom door close shut as my mind wandered off, eyeing the details on the ceiling. My eyes etched out the grainy swirl patterns on the ceiling to keep myself occupied for a few minutes. Boredom struck like lighting by then.

I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket and examined the screen. In the right corner where there would usually be signal bars was an empty blank space with a tiny power line in gray shading. He was right about how bad it is to get service around this area, but that didn't stop me to think I was invincible. I pulled up on the screen a new text pad and began to write randomly to whatever number I chose in my contacts and clicked the submit button afterward. Second later, a message popped up.

Message Failed. Error Code 94058.

Fuck, and at a time like this when I really need help? God knows what he has up his sleeves…

I felt my stomach churn, and a gurgle sound that was loud enough for a rodent to hear. Great, and now I'm about to die from starvation.

"J?" I heard someone asked.

My head cocked over to where the voice came from and saw Andrew standing less than a few feet from the doorway. In his hands were two paper Starbucks bags, and a tray of coffee.

I'm saved! I sarcastically said to myself, knowing that I won't have to go on this weird trip on an empty stomach.

"Oh, hey, Barbara." Andrew said as he walked over to the desk, placing both bags on the wooden surface. I was taken aback when he said my full name, but it didn't matter at the moment when he opened up one of the bags and produced a huge blueberry muffin in his hand. "Want a muffin?"

Without warn, I hungrily reached out and swiped the muffin from his grasp and bit a huge chunk from the top of hit, gnawing on it with delight. Oh, my taste buds were in heaven as I savored the sweet taste of blueberry and sugar melting in my pothole of a mouth.

Andrew didn't know what to think when I was eating away at the muffin as though it was a piece of raw meat to me and I was the hungry tiger getting fed upon by his minions.

"Okay…" was all he said before producing an egg sandwich wrapped in parchment paper. The Joker had walked in when Andrew produced another egg sandwich and tossed it towards him; he caught it and unwrapped it, revealing the sandwich from underneath.

"Southern egg sandwich with cheese and sausage."

"You can read me like a book, Andrew." The Joker chuckled, taking a bite from his cheese oozing sandwich.

The gurgling in my stomach went away in seconds as I finished the last of my destroyed muffin.

"So, where are we heading, J?"

The Joker looked up from his half eaten sandwich and swallowed. "Just listen to what I say and it'll be no trouble finding this place." He crumbled up the paper he had in his hands and tossed it into the rubbish bin that was underneath the bathroom sink.

Andrew nodded as he ate away at his sandwich. "I'm ready when you are." He finished up his sandwich by engulfing the last hunk of it and swallowed it whole.

"Good then, we're off!"

Just as I was about to take a huge bite into my muffin, I felt The Joker's hands wrap around my arm and he pulled me up to get me going — he shoved me through the door and dragged me down the hallway. "We don't want to be late, dearie."

Down the stairs we went and out the front door where the truck was parked, Andrew swung the keys around his index finger when he suddenly stopped when a noise erupted our thoughts. Bullets were flying all over the place, hitting the brick walls and even the truck making tiny dents in it.

We were being shot at.

"Get in the truck!" Andrew yelled, swinging the door open so that the door would be a shield to his as he pulled out his gun from his back pocket.

The Joker and I ducked along the way behind the truck as we tried to avoid being shot at. I found myself jumping over and landing right in the bed of the truck, whereas The Joker stood behind, hesitantly taking his gun out and jumping in the bed with me. He knelt down, popping in the bullets all at once and cocked the safety off.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" He asked, and then a split second later there was a look of confusion on his face as though he just asked a dumb question. "Hell yeah you do!" He reached back and produced a pistol in his hands. "Happy early birthday!"

The gun landed in front of me, along with a tiny box filled with bullets.

"What? Hell no am I shooting at someone!"

"I thought you said you had the guts to do so?"

"You precisely."

Well, at least I can get some target practices. I opened up the door where I loaded the bullets and closed it shut, unlocking the safety hatch right after. The Joker jumped out and swung the passenger door opened and started shooting.

Shards of glass were flying all about from getting hit; the tiny grains would land on top of me but wouldn't do any harm. At one occasion there was a huge shard of glass that almost hit me directly in the face — luckily I had the mobility to taunt away from it. Andrew looked like a master assassin with his aim; he was able to knock out two people in two hits. Who knows if he was a sniper back in the day.

The Joker had a good aim as well, but his shooting was a lot sloppier than Andrews. He just pulled the trigger like it was some kids' toy to him. Probably it was his toy, the same he felt for his precious knife. Ugh.

I seriously didn't want to get involved with the fight — I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in the bed of the truck.

Andrew fired a couple of more shots, and then suddenly I heard him yelp loudly. "I got hit!" I saw him cup his arm where he was hit. My attention drew upward where a guy was poking out from the skyline of the vehicle. He was the one that hit Andrew since he made a fist in the air as a sign of victory. What a jackass.

"Babs," I heard The Joker yell at me. "Get the guy in the car!"

I was hesitant for a second before I heard The Joker screaming again. "Do it!"

And so I did.

I cocked my gun up and with the end of it pointed directly at the guy's chest; then, I pulled the trigger. The bullet went flying and smashed right through the man's skull, in seconds he was a goner and collapsed on the hood of the car.

I heard The Joker rejoice with happiness, "Nice one!"

He actually complimented on my hit?

Finally, we heard the surrender of one man's cry. "Stop! Maroni sent us!" A man stepped out of the car with his hands up, flailing them in the air.

The Joker stopped shooting, eyeing the man with his beaming eyes. His Glasgow grin rose as the man slowly approached him.

"What do you scumbags want?" He retorted.

"Maroni has an offer you might like."

To his amusement The Joker's ears perked up, wanting to know more about the offer.

"Ten million, if you let him join your game."

"Haven't we been through this before?" The Joker asked him, "Does he think I'm stupid or what?"

"Thirty million — if he is able to claim Miss Gordon."

My mouth literally dropped to the floor. Why the hell does Maroni want me? Was I some sex object to him? Okay, so he did warn me about The Joker, but hell he didn't mention I was of interest to him!

The Joker wasn't certain by the way he looked at the man. His face was twisted with disgust. "And yet wants to join forces with me?"

The man looked a bit frightened since The Joker didn't like the deals he had to offer. He backed away slightly, offering another proposition before being cut off by The Joker. He reached out and grabbed the guy's shirt by his collar, having his face close to his.

"Tell Maroni if he wants to play games, then I got games for him. There is no way in hell that scumbag is going to be in my league — not after leaving our previous bargain."

The man nodded.

The Joker looked up, musing. "I should probably send that message in writing…" He opened up the compartment box and took out a pad of paper, and asked Andrew for a pen. He wrote down his 'message', and later produced a tiny thumb tack from his hands. Suddenly, he flew at the guys head and thumb tacked the note to his forehead. Blood was oozing out from the spot as the guy stumbled back, and started running for the car.

The Joker bided him farewell by saluting him with his hand, and he turned to Andrew immediately when he noticed the blood on Andrew's arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Andrew said, wiping the blood with his sleeve. "The bullet scratched the skin, but didn't leave a puncture would at all." He sounded relieved that he didn't die — hell I would feel that way too if I were hit.

The Joker nodded, and turned to me with a huge pumpkin size grin on his face. "That was awesome!"

I felt myself blushing at that moment.

"You learned a lot from your father."

Yup, I was disgusted all right.

"We should be getting back on the road then." The Joker jumped in and looked back to see me just sitting there in awe. "Come on in, Babsy."

I swung my legs over and planted my feet on the ground on impact, and then I walked over and slid inside the vehicle with The Joker sitting in the middle. He reached behind me and pulled the seat belt over my head and strapped me in tightly. He seemed rather amused by the sudden events and that I shot a guy right in the head. "I wouldn't want you hurt on our trip." He said as he fastened the seatbelt, and relaxed his arms behind his head.

He smiled at Andrew and said, "Peel rubber, Andrew."

:: :: ::

"It is our intention that Miss Barbara Gordon is considerably a hostage to The Joker at this very moment as we speak." Greg Warden shifted in his seat as the news anchor, Mike Angel, spoke to him over the phone. GCN was the only news station that was allowed to have access to the major Crimes Unit on information about Barbara's whereabouts. Since Greg wasn't feeling comfortable speaking to Mike — Gordon mentioned Mike likes to stir up some trouble on occasion — he tried his best to share as much info as possible about the incident, and yet keep the information to a low key.

Mike's show was currently live as him and Greg spoke about the incident. "Lt. Warden, do you know if The Joker has plans to use Barbara in any of his schemes?"

"I can't be certain of that answer, but I will say knowing how this man is like with people, it is likely possible he does have some usage for them. I would suppose he has ideas to use Barbara, but again, we are uncertain."

"How is the family doing in this time of crisis?"

"The family is doing their best by keeping their fingers crossed and hoping for her safe return."

"Do you think the Commissioner is going to put the city on lockdown to prevent any stragglers from entering and exiting the city?"

Hell, we have no power to do that. Greg mused.

"Again, I don't know-"

"How are we supposed to react to this nonsense if Barbara isn't found?"

Greg rolled his eyes clockwise, and wished he hadn't stated this conversation in the first place. A one way retreat out of this mess would be by lying to Mike. But what exactly?

Just as Greg was about to throw a fit, Jim entered the office with David by his side. When they saw Greg, they couldn't help but laugh mentally seeing how Greg was struggling with Mike over the phone.

"I'm afraid I will have to cut out conversation short for today," Greg said. "My boss needs me for the moment."

After getting an acknowledgement from Mike, he hung up and started at Jim with his beady eyes. "For hells sake, Jim, I'm not your secretary."

Jim let out a quiet laugh. "I warned you." He turned to David and asked him to retrieve something from his car, and David responses with a nod and turned away. Jim walked over to his desk, his fingers tracking the leftover files he hadn't looked through in over a month.

"God, I hope the kid's all right."

"Jim, I wouldn't worry." He swallowed hard at the next statement. "If she were…dead…we would have gotten a notice from The Joker by now."

Jim sighed. "True." There was a hint of a smile when he complimented about his efforts. "I appreciate all the help you've done for me and my family."

"Not a problem," he said.

From out of the blue, David came back to the office, almost out of breath by the time he reached the door.

"Jim, get out of here quick!" His thump pointed behind him, and he ran out of the office again.

Both men ran with David through the hall and into the corridor where a whole bunch of cops were huddled together in a clumped circle, looking at something below their eye level. Jim pushed one of the cops aside to see, and to his astonishment his worst nightmare was yet to begin.

A decorative box was sitting in the hands of Ramierez.

The Joker's notice, Jim thought. He wanted to pass out.

"It's addressed to you, Jim." Ramirez said, and flipped the lid open to show him what was inside.

Inside the box was a lacy bra, and attached to it was a note scribbled on white parchment paper. Jim plucked the note out and read it to himself.

Past scars seem to have an impact, don't they?

One man's actions is one man's regret.

But I don't regret mine.

David looked over Jim's shoulder to see the bra sitting inside the box. "Is that…Barbara's bra?"

Jim didn't want to believe it. Was this a notice that Barbara was indeed dead, or that The Joker had done something nasty to her? Greg picked up the box from Jim's hands and looked inside to see the thing for himself. "I didn't think Babs was that girly…"

Ramierez's hand wacked Greg's across the head from behind.

Jim glared at him for a moment, and went back to reading the note. That was when he felt his whole body trembling at the last part of the note. Fear shook all over his body.

At Two O' Clock this afternoon, Gotham's most reliable team

(aka Gotham Police Department and Crimes Unit)

Will be blown sky high. Who are we to trust now?

Ha HEha Ha ha hA

Jim's trembling lips were utterly wordless as he gazed up at the clock above his head. The clock read one-thirty.

Immediately, Jim's anger exploded like a bomb, which startled everyone including himself.

"Get everyone out of this building at once!" Jim yelled. "Call all the major building beside us and tell them to evacuate their buildings and have them go to the nearest shelter!"

Everyone responded and darted all over to gather people and have them exit the building as soon as possible. The bomb squad was all prepped up as they searched the place out for any unusual device, and mostly everyone by then was escorted out of the building except for Jim, Greg and David. The men were huddled together as they gazed at the note.

"This man is sick." Greg mumbled.

David shook his head. "Tell me about it."

"Sir," one of the squad members ran up to Jim and told him their latest report. "So far we've found no evidence of any device. I have my team up on the roof and the others are looking on the third floor."

"Where in the blaspheme would he hide a bomb?" Jim wondered, and then suddenly drew his eyes on the bra again. He noticed an unusual blinking light coming from underneath the garment. His hands pushed the bra away — a device was blinking, indicating it was alive and ready.

The bomb squad guy squared his shoulders and extended his arms out to reach the box. "Okay," he said calmly. "Jim, I am going to have you give me the box."

Jim's hands darted out, wanting to throw the device at the man.

"Not roughly or else the device will go off!"

Jim sighed. "Fine. How shall this be done?"

"Slowly hand it over…" The man flagged his fingers to have the box brought closer to him. His plan was cut off short when another bomb squad guy yelled from the other room, "We've found a wire hooking up to a device!"

Jim winced, making the box fallout from his grasp.

"SHIT!" The guy yelled, and fell on his chest to grab the box before it would fall to the floor — and possibly explode. The box safely landed in his hands, relieve fell upon the men.

Jim sighed, but his relieve soon ended when he realized another device was set up in the building. 'Where?" He asked the man.

"The rooftop. He's trying to make the building collapse on itself."

"Disable that bomb as soon as possible!" He ordered.

The man saluted him, and ran back into the room and up the stairs along with the other men.

Jim turned his attention back to the predicament he was in. He spotted the man's name tag and asked, "Charles is your name, correct?"

Charles was holding onto the device with all his dear might, hoping it wouldn't corrupt.

"Correct, Commissioner."

"Help us disable this bomb before things get deadly."

:: :: ::

Earlier Before…

Already the ride to our destination was boring.

I could say that flat out to The Joker, and he'll wrangle me like a snake trying to snap my neck in half. Plan A to confront The Joker would be no success in fact, I had no plans at all.

It was late into the morning, roughly the same time most people would be heading to work, grabbing their mug of coffee from a local coffee shop; there were a few kids out on the streets either playing hooky for the day or college graduates looking about for jobs in their interest. A mother and daughter walked across the outlined crossway in our path, The Joker apparently was impatient about the two taking their time and wanted to run them over. Thank heaven's Andrew was the driver or else there would have been cruisers chasing after us for hitting a pedestrian.

Andrew made a sharp turn around a building, which was not that far from the town hall where my dad would usually pay a visit to the mayor to check up on things Gotham related: the latest crime schemes, new employees, all the usual stuff my dad would debate about.

The car came to a halt, the engine was roaring loudly when we stopped until it was cut short when Andrew killed the ignition by turning the key towards him. The Joker reached back to grab something behind the seat a laptop. He flipped the top of it opened, and a windows screen popped up.

"I have a task I would like you to do." He pointed at me, and dropped the laptop into my lap. "All you have to do is to press that button." He pointed to a gray colored button using the mouse below the keyboard.

I glanced up at him. "That's it?"

"Well, of course, then you'll have to keep an eye on the screen and see how progress is going."

Wow, sounds like a fun job to me.

The Joker patted the back of my head, knowing that I'd be exceeding well at the assignment. Again, he reached back and pulled out a black uniform; it had padding on the front, with a black vest made of what looked like bulletproof material. On the right side of the vest, right where the heart would be located was the image of a shield the same seen on GPD's cop uniforms highlighted in an tawny color were the words Gotham Bomb Squad.

What in the hell was he up to?

Then, I got the idea as to why he wanted me to use the laptop. He wanted me to detonate a bomb.

"If you excuse me," he grinned, shoving on the uniform, "I have an important job to do."

Andrew stepped out and The Joker exited the car by sliding out, Andrew nodded when he was told to keep a good distance from wherever the hell he wanted me to blow up. He jumped back in and slammed the door shut, watching The Joker cross paths in front of the vehicle as he took out a cloth and wiped his face down to the bear skin he'd been hiding for so long. I watched him as he threw the soiled cloth into a green dump bin, the ones that are picked up by dump trucks, and he turned the corner.

My ears were blowing flames. He wants me to detonate a bomb? God, I could imagine where he would place a bomb in this god forsaken city…

If he were to be wearing a bomb squad uniform…

Oh shit.

I hesitantly looked at Andrew who was looking at his wristwatch tick each moment I was freaking out. He brought his gaze up at the sky, as though he were imagining figurative things to show up out of the blue, as in a cloud changing shape into a bomb or a crow swooping down like a missile would when it'd collide into the ground.

He isn't going to be any help. My conscious told me. You'll have to figure out something…

The idea kept on popping up inside my head. What was I to do to stop this bomb from exploiting itself to the public?

I turned my attention to the screen where the same window appeared, the button reading under the text Self Destruct. He wanted me to blow up the bomb so that it would look like I'm the bad guy for once. Here's a fact he would never understand: I would never do such a thing to my hometown, even if it means he'll kill me in the end. He hates Gotham to bits — and I still come to wonder why he does when he says it has to do with his wife — and he wants to prove his hate to Gotham by making it corrupt in his hands. There's so much hate in this world why would you want to take it out on those who've done no harm to you? To The Joker, none of those 'if's' and 'but's' about Gotham didn't matter.

That can change though, my conscious said. Even if he says Gotham should burn for their actions, you can prove to him it's not entirely their fault.

The past day or so, The Joker mentioned to me the accident my friend went through was not entirely my fault, but the people who didn't put a hand forward were to blame. What if Gotham was the same? Were they to blame the misfortune of his wife? What did they do exactly to make him loathe them?

When my friend went from being normal to paralyzed, I wanted to take it out on myself, because I felt I didn't do enough to help her. The again when I come to think of those there at night, standing on the sidelines with their tails in between their legs — they hardly put a foot forward and didn't offer any help. So, could it be true to blame the entire city for their lack of support — by getting revenge?

Revenge can be seen in so many ways, and The Joker did it like a master.

Was I that courageous enough, though, to get my revenge?

The button stared at me like two beaming eyes ready for a staring contest. You wouldn't do such a thing, my conscious told me.

I shook my head. I know, but who else am I supposed to point the finger at even if it is their fault?

I don't know whether my conscious was being knowledgeable or not, it kept on fighting back.

To tell you the truth the whole accident was because you and your friends were drinking. Who was dumb enough to jump into the harbor while you were buzzed up?

I felt my mental voice go mute.

If you guys hadn't done that, then she wouldn't have to be living in a wheelchair.

My conscious was right about whose fault it was: all of us. We were the one jumping into the harbor…

"Get ready." I heard Andrew say to me, as he leaned over my shoulder to get a good look at the computer screen. "J wants it off in five minutes."

My mind was in hysterics by then. What was I to choose: revenge or innocents?

:: :: ::

The Joker was laughing mentally when he saw the first reaction on everyone's face when they found out there were bombs implanted inside and outside the police department. When the news was out, almost every news channel arrived at the station sitting outside with their cameras rolling as they recorded the event. From where he was standing with the Commissioner and his recruits, he could see from out the six foot window a crowd of people trying to get a peek inside; he was also taking note of how many people standing by would be blown away by this massive bomb he was holding onto. The other bombs planted throughout were starters, whereas the one he and the commissioner were trying to disable was the mother lode — it'd be total chaos if it were to go off.

Exactly what The Joker wanted.

You screwed my life, so I'll screw yours, he'd repeat to himself — an eye for an eye as they would say.

"What do you need us to do?" Jim asked as his body shook with fear. His hands trembled while holding onto the bag he was provided, containing stuff that would help disable a bomb from going off such as pliers and electrical tape. And knives that were secretly hidden— just his case his plan were to change course.

The Joker pretended to look concerned for the Commissioner's safety.

"There's a pair of pliers in my bag-"

Jim scavenged through the bag, producing a pair of pliers with plastic red handles. "This one?"

"Yes." He said.

Jim carefully handed the pliers to 'Charles' as he eyed the bomb; he helped him unwrap the box from its decorative wrapping and folded the sides down by using his switch blade to cut the sides down. The glowing from the flashing light grew brighter when the tiny device was exposed. Jim couldn't believe there was a live bomb sitting right in front of him.

"Do you see the wires here?" The Joker asked him, pointing to a purple wire hooked up to the device. It was in a loop form, almost the shape of a U.

Jim nodded, "Yes."

"It looks like it's the wire we need to cut since it's connected to the heart of the bomb. If we disable it, likely it will shut off on its own."

"Are you sure it's the one?" He pointed out to the other colored wires wrapped around it.

"I am positive."

Huh, yeah right. The Joker joked. As if I'd really cut that wire to save their Goddamn lives.

Jim gazed up at the clock for a split second, and his thin frown grew deeper into the sides when he noticed the time on the clock had changed over a short period of time. "We have three minutes left, Charles!" He exclaimed.

The Joker's grinned slightly, but quickly hid his pleasure when Jim looked back at him to see what he was doing. With his hands surrounding the device, he slowly drew his pliers close, waiting for the right moment to dart out and watch the building burst to flames.

"Sixty seconds!" Jim yelled.

Not for long, The Joker laughed.

Time was ticking fast in Jim's head — to add on, he was concerned why Charles hadn't made a move to actually snip the wire in two. Something doesn't seem right, he told himself. The clock ticked away…thirty seconds…

"Charles," he said, "if you are that afraid of cutting a damn wire then I'll do it."

The Joker rolled his eyes at him. "I'll do it, Commissioner!"

Twenty seconds…

"We don't have much time! Cut the damn wire!"

For once The Joker had enough of Jim's whining; it probably was a good time to make a run for it as well. His famously well known Glasgow grin everyone feared finally showed up, so was the intoxicating voice everyone couldn't bear to heat at a time like this. Jim eye's broadened when he realized he was working with the devil the whole time.

"I'd love it sit and chat," he said, "but I must be going."

The Joker threw off his helmet, revealing his long green colored hair, and quickly he slid past the men. He ran through the hallways that lead to the back entrance of the building where his goons would be waiting. As he threw open the back door he trembled onto the pavement, and from across the street two of his goons were waiting patiently behind a dumpster. The truck was also in view, with Andrew and Barbara sitting inside, watching the computer he provided. He ran across the street without getting hit by the incoming vehicles wanting to watch the show; he slid across the pavement and stood directly beside a goon who pulled him behind the dumpster so that he wouldn't be seen.

The grin on his face was as wide as a watermelon. "Take cover, boys." He murmured joyfully, ducking as soon as he heard the screams coming from around the block. He counted mentally in his head.

Five…four…

He was rejoicing for the moment to arrive.

Three…two…

I fucking did it, he mused.

One…

Everything went silent at last. The way he imagined it — or, hoped.

There were no flames.

The streets were silent of life, and the only thing The Joker did get to see was Barbara closing the laptop shut.


Ha ha, I have no idea where the idea of tacking a note to a guy's head came from! That was just completely random. I think The Joker is amused about that. This was such an intense chapter to write, and it is exactly how I wanted to ended it. I bet you can't wait to see how pissed of The Joker will be in the next one. He he.

Please drop me a review and tell me what you think so far! Thank you! (: