CHAPTER 11 - DANSE MACABRE

It was a crisp, cold night in Gotham City, and The Joker was freezing his nuts off standing out here in the cold. The wind cut right through his lean frame, forcing him to shove his hands deeper into his pockets in a vain attempt to find warmth. But it was all part of the plan. This was going to be something big, something dramatic. And it would certainly heat things up!

The Joker's chain of thought was broken when he spotted that his ride was here. The 267 Bus was at the stop, picking up the queue of passengers. The Joker quietly joined onto the end of the queue. When he got onto the bus, he smiled at the driver.

"I have my ticket...right..."

He pulled out a gun and put a bullet through the driver's head.

"...Here! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He pulled the driver out of his seat and threw him out of the door. All the passengers began to scream. Some began to run for the doors, but The Joker quickly flipped them shut and drove off at breakneck speed.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I will be your driver for this evening. I'm afraid that there will be a slight diversion to the bus route, so if any of you have appointments, I'm afraid you won't be making them. But look on the bright side - this is going to be the most important day of your lives. And, most likely, the last! HA HA!"

The Joker slammed his foot down on the acceleration, ramming a car off the road. It was time for his next little joke...

…

Batman was crouched on a rooftop, still as a statue, a web of thoughts trailing through his mind. Where was The Joker? When was he going to patch things up with Selina? How long could he keep up this obsessive search? The Joker was out here somewhere, most likely trying to find him…

Just then, Batman spotted a bus driving unevenly along the road, swinging back and forth between lanes. Swooping down from the rooftop, Batman barely managed to land on the bus, almost falling off. The driving was getting more erratic by the second. Then, from inside, Batman thought he heard a laugh. He felt the muscles in his stomach tightening as he ran to the front of the bus and looked down through the front window into the bus.

The Joker.

For what was surely no more than a second, but felt much longer for both of them, the two mortal foes stared at each other, like they had done countless times. But this time was different. There was an added glint to the morbid cheer in The Joker's eye. It said that now, more than ever, they saw each other…and knew each other.

Batman punched through the glass, trying to grab the wheel. The Joker quickly responded by slamming down on the brakes and bringing the bus screeching to a halt.

"Joker," Batman hissed as he punched his enemy in the face.

"Batman," replied The Joker after yelping in pain, "So nice of you to drop in! HA HA!"

The Joker threw 3 razor-sharp playing cards at Batman, more as a distraction rather than a serious attack. But it worked. He was able to scramble out of the broken window, bounce off the front hood, and land neatly on the ground below.

"Come catch me...Bruce," cackled The Joker, running away from the bus.

Batman began to follow The Joker. He couldn't let him get away. Not this time. Once they were both a safe distance away from the bus, The Joker suddenly stopped running. For a moment, Batman was confused, but the horrific realisation hit him when The Joker took out a small trigger.

"Wait a second, wait a second! Just have a look where we are. Now, you're going to want to see this..."

The Joker pressed the button on the trigger, blowing up the bus, and everyone on it. And where were they? Right in front of the Gotham City Fire Department.

"BOOM! Burn baby buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn!"

Batman felt rage building within him. He wasn't going to give him a chance to laugh that sick, twisted laugh. There was nothing funny bout what he'd done. Every innocent on that bus whose life had just been extinguished had a family, people whose lives would be ruined forever by The Joker's psychotic cruelty. So, before he could even let out a giggle, Batman kicked him right in the temple, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Batman let out a small moan of despair when he spotted the wreckage of the bus. Nobody could have survived that. Men, women, children - these were PEOPLE, but The Joker saw them as nothing more than faceless punchlines. In a fit of inspiration (or possibly desperation), Batman took one of the smaller exploding Batarangs and threw it right onto the hole of a fire hydrant, the cork-like piece exploding and water rushing out towards the bus. Deep down he knew he was just going through the motions, but he wouldn't take the chance of leaving someone to die.

Looking over his shoulder, Batman spotted The Joker picking himself up. Yanking him the rest of the way up by his collar, Batman threw him away, several feet into the air and several yards away. The Joker landed with a thud, skidding along the ground for a few inches.

The Joker felt like he had thrown out his back. He rolled over onto his knees, and with a wince of pain, shakily stood up.

"Heh...heh heh...Batman, I think...it's a little late to save those people in the bus. They're already chargrilled! HA HA!"

Batman began to approach The Joker, who in turn began slowly backing away from him.

"Woah, woah, easy there, Brucie. Now that we...have some privacy, I need to ask you something. What's the point of this lifelong mission of yours, huh? I've been doing some research on you. Mommy and daddy shot dead when you were a little brat, eh? So all this, everything you've done, has all been about you having a chip on your shoulder? HAHAHAHAHA!"

Murderer. Monster. Anti-Christ. All of these words were running through Batman's head as his nemesis mocked him. He DARED to murder people in cold blood, insult him and his parents?! White-hot fury burned in his veins. He wanted to choke the life out of his bleeding carcass.

"I just don't get how you can base your whole life on one little thing," The Joker continued, "Me? I reinvent myself every morning! HA HA!"

Suddenly, The Joker dropped a smoke grenade onto the ground. In the burst of smoke, he was able to make a run for it. But he wasn't going to get too far. He needed help. Hiding behind a fire truck, The Joker took out his cellphone and dialled a number.

"Hello?" said Harvey Dent on the other side.

"Hey, Harv! I need you to pick me up at the Gotham City Fire Department. I'm in a spot of trouble."

"I am NOT going to help you any more, Joker!" snapped Dent.

"Heh heh, you don't have a choice, Harv. If you don't help me, I'll ruin you!"

"Oh right," scoffed Harvey, "So now every time you want something from me, you just twist the screw?"

"If you don't get your ass over here...RIGHT NOW," hissed The Joker, all joviality vanishing from his voice like the flick of a light-switch, "You'll find out just how tightly I can twist!"

There was a brief pause.

"I...I'm on my way," said Dent, hanging up.

The Joker put away the cellphone. Okay, now it was just a matter of hiding from Brucie until good old Harv showed up.

…

The frustration was getting to Batman. He'd spent close to fifteen minutes looking for his foe, but he was nowhere to be seen. Surely he couldn't have gone far. And he hadn't. Just when Batman was beginning to think he'd lost him, he spotted him hiding behind a fire truck. Without hesitation, he swooped down in front of him.

"There's two ways we can do this," growled Batman, "Either you can give up now, or you can make my day by trying to fight and making me beat the hell out of you."

The Joker chuckled nervously, backing up against the side of the truck. He really needed to take some kung-fu classes or something, because having Batman kick the snot out of him every time they met was beginning to get very tiresome.

But while Batman and The Joker were in the middle of their confrontation, a new, combustible element was entering the fray. Harvey Dent brought his car to a halt near the GCFD building. He stepped out of the car, and his eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. A bus had been blown to pieces. The flames had been put out, but Dent could just about make out the charred corpses through the smoke.

"Oh my God," he whispered in horror, raising a handkerchief to his mouth.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Staggering forward like a drunk, he spotted Batman inching towards The Joker. Was he really going to help someone who could cause the kind of carnage he'd just seen? He wanted to help Batman stop him! But that would be career suicide. He didn't know what to do! He had to let the coin decide.

He flipped the coin, looking down at the result. Scarred side up. Slowly, he took out his gun, and pointed it at Batman.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Batman," Harvey said, "But you're going to have to let him go."

Batman spun round, finding himself face to face with his tormented friend. So he was involved with this too. He had hoped that Harvey was finally free from the dark forces that plagued his life, but it seemed to follow him relentlessly no matter how hard he tried. Batman was momentarily reminded of his own persona, but he brushed the thought away.

"Harvey…please…put the gun down. Don't throw away the life you've worked so hard to rebuild…"

Watching Batman and Dent, The Joker realised this would provide the distraction he needed. He quietly opened the door to the fire truck, and pulled out a wrench from inside. He swung forward, smacking Batman across the back of the head with it, knocking him to the ground.

"Gooched! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker dropped the wrench, and turned to Dent.

"Why thank you for that distraction, Harv. But don't kill him yet. I have something special planned for him. Let's just make a hasty exit."

The Joker and Dent made a run for Dent's car. They got inside, and drove away at top speed.

Batman picked himself up off the ground just in time to see them racing away. They were too far away to start chasing, so he had to let them go. Besides, his head felt like it had been split in half. Looking around, seeing no one, he pulled off the cowl so he could check where Joker hit him. He felt around the back of his head, then looked at his hand: blood. Not a good sign. He slammed his fist into the ground in frustration.

"This isn't over.."