Walking down the long hall at the back of the store, Dick counted the floor tiles in an effort to distract himself from the maelstrom in his stomach. Reaching the bathroom, he pushed the door open with his shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped around his midsection. Inside, he slunk to the first stall without looking up from his feet. I want to go home, he moaned silently. Throwing up is bad enough there, but in a public place…uck. At least this early in the day it might be clean…
He would be grateful for the rest of his life that he raised his head before he stepped past the cubicle door. Discovering the disturbing rictus on the face of the man seated on the toilet, he froze. Dead, bulging eyes stared at him as he took in the cascade of blood that had fallen from the shattered forehead and crudely widened smile to coat the corpse's chest and potbelly before soaking into the pants around its ankles. How sick am I? he wondered, stumbling back in horror. I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming, or hallucinating. This can't be real.
A hand covered his mouth from behind just as he collided with a pair of legs. He was about to bite down and make a break for the door when something cold caressed the skin below his jaw. "Ah-ah," came a warning. "Not a sound, pretty, or you'll end up looking like our erstwhile janitor here. You know that he cleaned that stall, then sat down to take a shit? Seems like the kind of thing you'd get fired for. Do you think I should report him?"
It feels like a knife, but…it's not very big. Box cutter, maybe. His stomach was forgotten as he studied the hacked figure a few feet away. He'd seen thousands of forensics pictures in the hours he'd spent poring over Batman's criminal profiles, and studied more ugly scenes and nasty ends than he could count, but he didn't have to search his mind to place the expression that had been carved into the face before him. Joker, he realized, biting his lower lip. If this isn't a nightmare, I'm dead.
He was spun and thrust backwards against the wall, and without warning the man himself – the one person in Gotham, he knew, that Bruce, and possibly even Batman, truly feared him meeting – was on a level with him. Breathe regularly, he tried to keep himself calm. Think. Batman's not here to get you out of this.
"Pretty enough for a slasher flick," the creep oozed, tittering. When the boy didn't react, he broke off. "Fine. Too young to get that, maybe." Pressing down on the blade he'd taken from the dead janitor just hard enough to draw a thin weal of blood, he dragged it a couple of inches along his prisoner's throat. "And brave," he crowed when the boy bore it. "Ooh, does mommy know how plucky her little prince is? I'll bet she's waiting outside for you, isn't she? Buying…oh, I don't know…what is she buying?"
Dick just stared at him. If he moves the knife, I can try to get away, but I have to be careful about it. Nothing fancy, I can't give away Robin. And I'll have to be fast. He's not Ricky Van Cleave, he's not going to break his own hand for me. He tried to remember how many steps he'd taken from the door, but couldn't; he'd been too focused on counting tiles, and he had no idea how many tiles equaled a step. Don't look towards it, he'll know you're thinking about getting away. The door opened inward, he recalled. That's going to cost time…he's fast, his file said he's fast, I won't make it unless I manage to hurt him, or knock him over, or- His thoughts cut off as fingers tangled in his hair and slammed his head back against the wall.
"Answer me, or I'll think you're just too scared to talk. Scared little boys don't interest me for any longer than it takes to turn them into scared little angels. And it's going to be pretty hard to hold that halo up, or a crown for that matter, little prince, if I cut your head off. Now isn't it?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Is your mommy waiting outside?"
Lie. "Yes."
"I wonder if she'll come in to find you…I've never killed a woman in a men's room before. It would make a nice tableau, wouldn't it?" He hissed proudly as a thought occurred. "A consumerist Pieta…lovely young mother, pretty little son, both very, very dead in a bathroom…tell me," he leaned closer, clearly amused by his own sick design, "if I flood the sinks and position the pair of you just right, do you think it would come off as a fountain? I want it to come off as a fountain."
"…Sure." Okay, so maybe he won't kill me until my 'mommy' comes in. Which is going to be a while, since the only person with me is… A grin nearly blossomed on his lips. Is freaking Superman. Not in costume, but still…all I've got to do is stay alive until he comes looking for me. I can still try to escape, but…it's not worth it to provoke him unless I know I can get away.
"Such a good little yes-man!" Both of the psycho's hands gripped his cheeks, pinching hard as the box cutter bobbed in one fist. "Yes you are!" he squeezed, jerking his face back and forth. The dead man's blood, Dick noted as the blade danced dangerously close to his left eye, still stained the metal. He gulped as the weapon brushed against his lashes. "Too close for comfort?" the Joker breathed into his face, his fingers twisting until bruises blossomed.
"How…how did you get in here?" he winced, the nerves beneath his eyes protesting their abuse vigorously. Keep him talking. It works on other criminals, maybe it will work on him, too…
The villain considered him. "You know, usually children at least try to scream when I cause them pain. You're an odd one, but…fun." He jerked his head towards the wall above the end stall, directing his attention to the open window set just below the ceiling. "I had to hide from the police somewhere, didn't I? I didn't arrange an Arkham breakout for nothing, and it's hard to move around in the daytime when they've got helicopters all over the place. I think it's getting to the point now where a lot of them would just shoot me," he shook his head. "Takes all the fun out of things."
"You just got out a few days ago, though," he remembered. I don't think it'll come off as strange that I know that, it was on the news. "Why'd…why'd you get caught again?"
"I had to rally the troops. They needed time to plan my welcome back party. And there were some people still inside that I wanted to come. We're going to have a clown," he smirked. "Isn't that exciting?"
Ugh… "…So you only broke out the first time so you could plan your second escape?" he wrinkled his nose. "That's…why?"
"Because I like to fuck with people's heads, that's why," he crashed the child's skull into the wall again. Dick couldn't quite bite back the tiny gasp that escaped his lips as stars passed before his eyes. His knees weakened for a moment, but he caught himself as the hands moved to his chin and throat. "I wonder how much longer mommy will be. I'm getting bored…should you be dead, or just almost dead, when she comes for you?" One greasy finger touched the corner of his mouth and then drew over. "I like making pretty ones smile…don't worry, I'll take extracare when I do yours. I want it to be perfect."
He couldn't wait any more. If the knife would move off of his neck, just for a second, he could kick, lash out, contort his way to escape somehow. If he mistimed it, though, just a flick of the insane man's wrist – a twitch of his fingers, really – would send the blade to a lethal depth. C'mon, Uncle Clark… Unbidden, his gaze flicked to the door.
Nausea flooded him as what little coherence had been in the Joker's eyes drained away. Oh, no, he saw me look over. Don't throw up now, you'll only make him madder…or, he realized, give yourself your one opportunity. The villain pulled his arm back, preparing to swing his weapon with what would no doubt be deadly effect, and Dick released his already tenuous hold on his gorge.
The hand holding him to the wall loosened for the barest instant as the water he'd just reintroduced to the air struck its target. He wrenched free, ducked, and threw himself into a tumble, hearing the box cutter snap apart as it was jammed into the wall where he'd been standing a millisecond before. The deranged man behind him sputtered and clawed after him, fingers nearly catching the hem of his pants as he tore the door open. Go left, this hall probably leads to a warehouse. Keep him away from the main store, if he goes out there he might take a hostage or just start killing anyone he can reach…there won't be as many people, maybe not anyone, in the warehouse. Evade him in there, then circle back around and find Clark. It was Batman's voice in his head, not his own, and he obeyed it, turning away from the bright fluorescents and into the shadows.
"Dick!" The Kryptonian's dread had grown with every second he'd waited in line, unable to clearly hear what was going on at the other end of the building. As soon as he'd finished paying, he'd snatched up his bag and headed for the back, trying to keep his feet at a somewhat regular pace. Don't bolt, they're sure to have security cameras. Even if no one's watching right now, the less frequently Clark Kent inexplicably disappears partway down a grocery aisle, the better.
"…perfect," he'd finally picked up as he approached the beginning of the hallway marked with a prominent sign reading 'restrooms.' Shit, that was not him, he had realized, turning in quickly. He was three steps away when he heard the now-familiar sound of vomiting. A moment later the door was flung open, and a small form ran out. He said his name sharply, and the boy slid to a halt, turning around to face him.
"Joker," was all he said, eyes wide and frightened but steady.
Clark saw the bruises on his cheeks and the light cut at his throat before the first syllable had finished forming. Sorry, Bruce. I know it's your city, but I don't think I can keep my hands off. Not right now. Not like this.
The boy blinked when the man disappeared as if by magic. A single, hollow thunk came from inside the bathroom immediately. He waited, trembling slightly as he watched the mouth of the hallway. Stay away, everyone just stay away from here, he's not dressed as Superman, no one can see…no one can see him right now, like this, they'll know…I don't even know how we're going to explain it…this is bad…this is so bad…Bruce is gonna kill me, and probably Uncle Clark, too…craaaap…
When nearly a full minute passed without any sound leaching out from the men's room, Dick gritted his teeth and slipped inside. It's got to be safe, there's no way Joker could best Superman. He'd need kryptonite, and where would he get that, especially fresh out of Arkham? That was probably the dead guy's knife, even… Glancing around to make sure that it was, in fact, only himself and Clark conscious, he flipped the lock on the main door and turned around, pressing his back to it. "…Uncle Clark?" he whispered, his adrenaline draining.
The Kryptonian stood over a well-concussed Joker, fists balled. He hid in a grocery store bathroom, he marveled angrily. What was he going to do, just kill everyone who came in? A grocery store, and this one, of course, since it's the one we came to. I can't believe the demons that crawl this city, he shook his head. If I knew what it would take to close whatever portal to hell spawns people like this, I'd do it in an instant. Gotham would probably be a crater afterwards, but…get the innocent out first, and it would be worth it. Hearing his name, he turned to find the boy staring at him and closed the distance between them, shaking off his disgust in favor of concern. "Okay, pal," he knelt in front of him. "Okay. Did he hurt you?"
"I…not really. I mean…not like that other guy," he nodded towards the stall containing the destroyed janitor. "But…but he wanted to," he murmured, his shivers increasing suddenly. "He…I…"
"Shh, it's okay now," he soothed. God, how am I going to explain these bruises? he rued, reaching out to turn the child's head so he could examine the already-purple marks. "What did he do?"
"Just, like…pinching. And…" his hand rose to the short line of already-dried blood along his throat.
"Anything else?"
"He hit my head on the wall," he disclosed, suddenly feeling flushed and weak. "…Uncle Clark…?"
Whoa, the man caught him as he fell. "Just relax, Dick," he said quietly as he repositioned him and stood up. "He can't do whatever he said he was going to. It's okay. It's over." Straight to the mountain, he decided. Have J'onn put him on an IV and check his head. Bruce is going to kill me…it wasn't my fault, but it's still Bruce.
Scooping up the bag he'd dropped in the midst of entering the room at super-speed, he unlocked the door and stole into the hallway. As he'd suspected, there were no true cameras in this back area, only false set-ups designed to keep the honest honest. Who would have thought a ridiculous college journalism assignment could ever be useful in real life? he laughed bitterly, remembering how annoyed he'd been when the 'fake security systems' topic had been assigned to him. Spying the dead man's cleaning cart sitting just to the side of the door, he rifled through it. A quick search produced a magnetic 'closed for cleaning' sign, which he hung before yanking the trolley over and positioning it in front of the entrance to the toilets. Hopefully that's all it will take to keep people out of there until I can call the police from somewhere a little more private and untraceable.
The child in his arms stirred slightly, moaning. I don't dare try to run out of here. The car's right out in front, and once the police arrive, they'll run every plate for blocks. It's too risky to suddenly appear on the street…damn it. He paused, realizing he'd been swearing a lot more than he usually did. This city does something to people. It's like it was built on an evil waste dump or something… Pulling Dick's jacket hood up in an attempt to cover the darkening marks on his cheeks, he walked through the store, trying to look no more or less concerned than the few other shoppers he passed. Made it, he sighed when they reached the car. He buckled his passenger in quickly, tucking him under the blanket again, and pulled out into the street, relief flooding him.
Now, to just find a pay phone to call the police from, and then get you to Mount Justice…have to get you a mask first, or Bruce will figure out a way to kill me twice… He checked him in the rear view mirror and found him still unconscious. Just hang on, pal. I know that was scary, but…just hang on.
Author's Note: Okay, so that was my first time writing Joker. Hopefully he was acceptably creepy. :D