Ah, you lucky duckies! I have quite the plethora of surprises shoved up my sleeve - and those you will see, eventually. Now, for this chapter, apologies on it being rather short, but as before, it was more of an introduction to more of the plot. And - if you catch what's really happening to Michelle - give yourself a pat on the back and be proud, cause I know some people won't. I LOVE YOU GUYS - AS ALWAYS! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, favorites and watches! You keep me going!
"You've reached Michelle Danvers- leave a message after the beep."
Beeeep.
"Michelle, its Harvey. Turn on the news. Rachel called me, told me everything about what happened… keep yourself safe. We need you out there."
Click.
I stared, motionless as my machine processed the new message, and flicked on its alerting red light, blinking periodically. Prying my stiff hand from underneath me, my fingers crawled along the coffee table, stretching to retrieve the black plastic item. When I found it, I slid over the rubber buttons, and pressed down on the largest one. My TV flicked on. It was still on the news, remaining from last night.
GCN flashed breaking news alerts, and showed shaky video clips of the city's most recent destruction, submitted by civilians who happened to capture the chaos with their cell phones. At first, I couldn't tell what exactly what the problem was, or what was going on. I arched an eyebrow, not moving from my curled up position on the couch, and stared, uninterested at the screen.
But then, as the network switched to a more professional, visible video, I saw. In front of one of Gotham's banks, the sidewalk was hidden behind a massive line of flames. Within this fiery inferno, I saw the faint outline of different cars, burning and melting.
"Authorities say that though the situation is under control, they have not established what is causing these explosions." The black-haired woman suddenly ducked, covering the back of her head with her hand. Another explosion erupted from behind her, this time, a small white sub-compact car, jerked up into the air, and then quickly fell, the sound of crashing, popping metal pervading through the scene.
"The Joker." I muttered. My voice sounded small and far away. I knew that having sat in the same position for hours probably wasn't beneficial to my health, but I could do nothing more than this, like a broken, hurt animal who only wanted to be submersed in darkness and left alone.
I couldn't believe, me of all people, was capable of harboring these wretched emotions. But it was all to a point, and completely necessary. Wasn't it? Yes. Of course, I shouldn't even bother myself with questions like those.
I closed my eyes, drowning out the audio from the TV and confined myself to the depths of my mind. It was dark, and cool - similar to the warehouse I had been locked in. I meandered mentally along, just touching the inner workings of my brain, feeling them out. My mind was cold, as if there was a heavy breeze, constantly blowing through it, whisking clouds of dust and grime into my cerebral caverns.
The Joker was there, smiling and laughing, though I couldn't see him. His laughter was keening, raucous and surrounded me, the sound wrapping itself around me like a blanket.
I wasn't sure when I fell asleep again, drifted out of consciousness, or what time it was when I finally woke up. My dream though, I did remember. It was short, but it replayed itself in my head several times, like a broken record, skipping over and over and over.
"Are you ready?"
I turned my face down, keeping my eyes as far away from him as possible. The attitude that coursed within me did not feel right. It wasn't who I thought I was. I felt conflicted, torn between these two people, and these two choices. I couldn't figure what I wanted more. And he wouldn't let me think.
His gloved hand slammed into my face, throwing it to the side with brute force. I couldn't say anything so instead I winced, and reached up, scooping my wet, disheveled hair out of the way of my eyes.
That was it, that was every last detail of my dream. It repeated, and each time, nothing changed, it was always the same. Over the duration of my slumber, I subconsciously became exasperated and bored of having seen it so many times. Though, when I woke up I had the feeling of being kicked in the stomach, and falling to the ground as the air swept out of your lungs.
As soon as my eyes opened, I coughed and sputtered, like someone had forced too much water down my throat, expecting me to swallow it quicker than humanly possible. My hands wound themselves around my stomach, muscles aching from being in the same position for far too long. I couldn't fix myself, this feeling, no matter how many deep breaths I took, the pained feeling residing in my stomach did not go away.
I realized several things within the next few minutes, and one of which, led to more thoughts. Those thoughts yelled at me, screaming out my name and provoking me to investigate them. I denied them and let them skitter away like roaches in an old abandoned building. But I knew, they'd be back. They wouldn't go away for a very, very long time. I knew one thing… and that thought was a mere, simple demand.
I had to move. I had to get up and out of here. And, I had to catch him.