Men of Their Word

I stared, thunderstruck, at the unconscious man in the backseat. He had sparse, colorless hair, a soft build, plain khakis. He was swaying this way and that with the car's inertia. He was pathetically unremarkable, just as I remembered him.

The Joker's driving was more methodical than when we last drove. He'd secured both of my hands to the door handle with what I assumed to be Blake's handcuffs. The inside of the car was brown and unassuming. The wood-varnished dash stared back at my pitilessly as I processed my freshest and most unique agony.

It didn't take long for The Joker to tire of my panicked silence, "He was a lot easier to pick up than I thought, you know. I figured he'd still be in jail after the maiming he gave you. I didn't have time to ask him how he got out – he's been a little, um, occupied – but I'm hoping you could tell me."

I felt how swollen my under-eye bags were as I leveled my glare at him. We were passing over the Gotham Bridge. I strained to reach the window crank so I could yell at parallel-vehicles and gave up with a huff. The handcuffs were short, tight and unforgiving. I'd have to settle for trying to catch the eyes of passerby. "Like you don't already know."

"I wouldn't want to rob myself of hearing you say it. I have a stinking suspicion that you kept up with your first."

I glanced back at McCreery, half-expecting him to be awake. I didn't have the energy to snap. "He got out early on a fifteen year sentence for good behavior. They legally had to notify me, I didn't seek out the information."

"Did you ever think about hunting him down? Were you ever worried that he would hunt you down?"

"I got a restraining order."

"But not before he stalked you to Gotham National."

"This is fucking ridiculous."

His hand fell on my thigh with a smack and squeezed heartily. I winced, watching a man pass us in the right lane. "Don't worry, precious. Truth be told, I think I might just let you sweat a little about Mr. McCreery back there. Plus, between you and me no one's going to miss him. He's done some pretty nasty things."

"Get your hand off of me."

"Your legs, Blaze, are just stunning. Does Robin tell you that enough?"

I stopped mentally imploring passerby to glower. "He'll come for me. He won't rest until you're dead."

"Oh, I love it when you get mad at me. It's like watching a puppy bark at a bear. And, sweetcheeks, he'll find me when pigs fly!" Ugh, puns. "But even if he did, he would be doing me a favor. Where do you think he'll go? To what's left of the police station? Even your boy can't work through those injuries. I needed to swing by the hospital anyways. I have someone near and dear to my heart who I've been meaning to see."

I popped my mouth open to bark at him but was interrupted when we juddered to a stop. I expected to see another goddamn grey warehouse awaiting me. Instead, I was met with a dull green two-story home that seemed to quiver on its foundation. The Joker finally lifted his hand off my thigh to push the vehicle in the park.

"Is this where you live?" I blurted. There were other houses, though the closest house was about fifty feet away and there were no cars in the driveway. Maybe I can call out to them.

"Oh, no, you could say this house belongs to a friend of a friend," I jerked away from The Joker as he reached over my knees to rummage around in the glove compartment. He plucked a black rectangle from the mass of loose papers and tissues. "I wouldn't worry too much about where we are. You won't be particularly conscious anyway."

"What?"

He flipped open the black kit to reveal a series of small needles and a glass container filled with clear liquid. "Trust me, cupcake, this isn't usually how I like to run things but I can't have you fucking about while I'm away, can I?"

I tried to concentrate myself to the farthest possible corner of the car. "Don't touch me with that needle."

"Don't worry, it's just a little concentrated Rohypnol. Your daddy back there is a sick bastard, had it under the driver's seat when I picked him up. Don't call me a hero, but I think I saved some very unfortunate souls from his influence."

He's going to rape me. He's going to rape me while I'm unconscious and I won't even be able to fight him. White rage blinded me before I twisted to the side and aimed a kick at the glass bottle in The Joker's fingers. He held the bottle behind his back and cackled as he forced my legs back down to my seat with one hand. He stretched out a long leg and hefted his weight over the center console and onto my lap to pin my legs. I opened my mouth to scream in the hopes that the neighbors would hear, but The Joker's sweaty palm contained my only hope.

"Come on, you know meee," he taunted. He had his forearm pressed into my windpipe to free his hands so he could load up a needle. I tried to twist and buck, but between his massive pinning weight and my handcuffed wrists, I could barely twitch. I could only make pathetic gasps of protest around the obstacle of his arm. "You know I wouldn't want to deny myself that downright nasty look in your eye when I mess with you. The only thing you have to worry about while you're out is bad dreams. And you can trust me because I have absolutely no reason to lie to you."

I glared at him incredulously. How could I trust him not to rape me? I felt his forearm muscles ripple as he flicked the syringe.

My struggles redoubled as I anticipated the injection. The Joker mockingly shushed me, petting my cheek before there was a sharp pinch to the side of my neck. The weight was lifted from my throat and my head slumped to my left shoulder. The effects of the drugs were immediate and all-consuming. There were several moments in which I could only stare at the pale silver eyes of McCreery over my shoulder before my hate slipped away and I fell into a synthetic oblivion.


Blake

I followed the thin rivulets of rainwater to the first open sewer and slid myself into the dank underground tunnels. The shafts beneath Gotham were wide enough in diameter for me to crouch. My boots splashed through the stream at my feet. I paused each time I heard a voice, though both times the voices were male and I couldn't bring myself to call out to them for fear that they belonged to the Joker. I made my way through the tunnels mostly by touch. The darkness beneath Gotham was complete and consuming despite the blinding sun above ground. I felt unbelievably haggard, the pain in my legs prominent though manageable. I shuffled roughly north for what felt like half an hour before I thought myself far enough away from The Joker's warehouse to emerge.

When I managed to drag myself out of a manhole, I spotted the token triple X's across the street which signified another unsavory part of Gotham. I stumbled onto the sidewalk to find I'd emerged in the alley behind Pauli's Diner.

I left a bloody handprint on the door handle as I shoved inside the chrome building. I got some looks that would've been hilarious if I wasn't bleeding out. I collapsed against the waitress booth, reached over and rooted around until I found the handle of a phone.

"Sir! Sir, are you alright?!" a middle-aged waitress all-but shrieked in my face.

I shakily held up my Gotham P.D. badge to shush her as I held the receiver to my ear. I stabbed in the appropriate phone number and tapped my foot through the many rings. I didn't bother calling 911 when I had a more reliable number at my disposal.

"Gordon speaking."

"Gordon, it's Blake. Get men over to 990 14th Street in the Narrows, it's another one of The Joker's warehouses. At least one hostage, at least fifteen armed men."

"Gotcha. Hold for me, Blake." There was about thirty seconds of silence in which Gordon scrambled his men. "Are you okay? You weren't accounted for after the explosion last night and we were missing a patrol vehicle."

"Are there cars already dispatched to 14th?"

"Yes, the first unit should be there in three. Are you okay?"

"No, I need you to bring a med kit to Pauli's Diner and drive me to 14th. He took Blaze."

He sounded as though I was his unruly child, "How injured are you?"

"Nothing a med kit can't fix, Gordon." Before he could continue along his line of questioning, I hung up.

It took a record five minutes for red lights to wash across through the windows of Pauli's. I shrugged achingly into standing position. However, rather than Gordon's unit vehicle, an ambulance awaited me by the curb. EMT's rushed out and stomped toward the diner.

I was fucking furious. I snatched the phone and punched in Gordon's number once again before they entered. This time, Gordon answered without missing a beat.

"I don't want to hear it, Blake."

I slapped the hand of the female EMT away from me. She was still trying to speak to me as I yelled into the phone, "Fuck you, I'm not going in that fucking ambulance! Get your ass over here and take me to 14th!"

"Do you think I have time to play chauffeur to some rookie? Go in the ambulance, kid. The Joker, his men and your girl are long gone from 14th."

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, slamming the receiver down. The EMT was joined by another, who towed with him a yellow stretcher. The goings-on of the restaurant had screeched to an unceremonious halt due to my outburst and everyone who wasn't already staring at me wide-eyed sure as shit was then.

"Sir, you're injured. Please stop being belligerent and lie down so we can treat your injuries."

I sighed hard. There was nothing I could do if Blaze and The Joker were already gone. I limped to the stretcher and answered each of the EMT's questions shortly, my mind otherwise occupied. I was unsurprised when they hauled me to the ambulance and drove me to Gotham General Hospital. Both of my major wounds were swollen and I needed to have the bullet surgically removed from my thigh. A nurse rushed me to a room for surgery prep, informed me that I would wake in several hours following the surgery and "we'd see" how long I was admitted afterward.

Of course, I argued with the nurse about the necessity of the surgery. Each moment I spent unconscious in a hospital bed was another moment The Joker had to kill, rape or torture Blaze. I had no doubt he'd make her suffer for my escape, which was all for naught if it meant I couldn't save her.

I called Gordon once more at the last possible moment in the hopes he would have an update, but The Joker seemed to have cleaned the warehouse down to the last bullet. I went into my surgery wired and frustrated beyond belief.

As promised, I woke what the nurse confirmed to be three hours after my surgery. I was uncomfortably numb and bandaged at both thighs and above my eyebrow. I called Gordon once more and he once again denied any more leads on The Joker.

I could do nothing but try to convince my nurse that I was well enough to be discharged in the following hours. There were points at which I couldn't help but yell. A part of me knew I was becoming irrationally aggressive and there was little I could do to save her even if I was fully healed, but the majority of me wanted to do as much for her as I possibly could.

The nurse eventually gave me a mild sedative when I tried to walk out. While I was still conscious, I seemed to be only loosely tethered to reality which is why I thought it so strange when screams fell from the hallway perhaps half an hour after I was administered the sedative. Through my door's thin rectangular window, I watched dazedly as doctors and nurses begin to wheel patients toward the elevators. I speculated idly what the source of all of the panic was. I must've dozed off for several moments before I heard someone enter my room. A nurse busied herself with disconnecting my IV. A tall shadow entered after her.

"Behind you," I muttered far too late. So fast I could barely make it out, the form leveled what looked to be a gun in her direction. She gasped but did not scream as he shoved her against the wall. I blinked when I saw the form was The Joker, outfitted ridiculously in a discount Halloween store nurse's costume and wig.

I thought for sure I was dreaming. The Joker clenched my fingers around something cold and rectangular, never peeling his eyes from the nurse. "A message from your princess, little bird. Catch her if you can." He stepped closer to the nurse so he was crowding her against the wall, "Go ahead and tell someone you saw me here, Trudy," he flicked her name tag with the gun, "then you and me can play doctor."

And then he turned with a flourish and skipped out of the room. The nurse shakily sobbed for a moment before an intercom announcement made her jump, "All patients and personnel must be moved to the courtyard immediately. Code Black. Code Black."

"What's Code Black?" I wondered aloud, nearly giggling at how my voice lagged.

"Bomb threat," the nurse replied shakily as she helped me into a wheelchair. The nurse was anxious, glancing behind her repeatedly. I locked eyes with several other patients as we lined up outside of the elevator, though I barely seemed to register their faces. It took hardly thirty seconds for us to be inserted in the elevator and escorted out of the ground floor. One by one, we were filed into buses. The nurse helped me into a seat and rushed out the front of the bus to help other patients. I wondered if my vision of The Joker was real. I remembered jerkily the object The Joker left me with, still sealed in my right fist.

It's a phone, I realized as another patient plopped down in the bus seat next to me.

I forced myself to focus. Immediately upon unlocking the phone I discovered a video loaded and ready. I tentatively thumbed the play button, blinking repeatedly to shake the tired haze blanketing my actions and sight.

Blaze's pale face filled the screen, her lips the color of talcum powder. She was apparently asleep on a dimly-lit wooden floor. A gloved hand pat her cheek lightly. She stirred, but didn't open her eyes.

I frowned deeply at the screen. Even in my drugged state, I didn't like where this was going.

"Wakeeyyyy, wakkkeyyy."

Her brow furrowed and her irises visibly moved behind her eyelids but she was not fully conscious until the hand slapped down viciously on her cheek. She thundered awake in a fury.

"Hey?!" she interjected as she looked past the camera at what I knew to be The Joker. She eyed me furiously through the camera lens and began to struggle as she began to return to full consciousness. The camera shook slightly as The Joker's arm moved according to her struggles. He must've been practically seated on top of her, I realized with disgust. She swatted at the camera and The Joker jerked it out of her reach while still keeping her in-frame. His giggles were even more chilling on tape.

"Well, hello sleeping beauty. Do you know you talk in your sleep?"

Her eyes were hateful pits, "What did you do to me while I was asleep? And why are you fucking filming me? HELP! HELP M – mmm!" she mumbled fiercely into The Joker's palm as he clapped it to her mouth. Her fingers looked comically small and frail prying at his long muscular hands. The Joker set the camera on the ground to his right. He was visible from the stomach down; she was still the main focus. Her cheeks were flushed now with wrath and mortification as The Joker pinned her hands beneath one of his. He gripped her jaw and turned her face toward the camera.

She was still wearing my shirt. My tears fell on the screen.

His voice was belittling as always, "Now, why don't you tell Robin John Blake what I had in the back of my car this morning after you two pulled that nasty trick?"

Her eyes wheeled uncertainly and she didn't answer. She looked like a cornered animal, trying to figure a way out.

He was anticipating, even looking forward to her lack of cooperation. "No? You don't want to tell him? Well, maybe if I reach down here I can work you like a puppet." His hand left her jaw and jolted down her belly to the chorus of his sick laughter.

I nearly crushed the phone in my hand before Blaze interjected desperately, "McCreery! He had McCreery!" The Joker's fingers and laughs stopped.

"Spoiler alert! That was the surprise I told you two love birds about last night. You were so worried what I would do to you when you were out, weren't you? Do you know what the Big Bad Joker did to you, Blazey?"

"What did you do?"

He seemed insulted. I cringed when I heard his lips smack together, "Nothing, sweetling. And that's the point. I told you I wouldn't kill Robin last night and I didn't. I told you I wouldn't do anything… unsavory to you while you were unconscious and I didn't. I'm a man of my word," he snarled lowly, pushing their chests flush together so his full torso and head were in frame. His limp, greasy hair fell partially onto her cheeks. His free hand squeezed her jaw and he shook her face for emphasis as he spoke, "So you and Robin can believe me when I say that for every day he doesn't find me, I'm going to invent another little surprise for my cupcake. And lover boy, you can believe that I'll be pressing her further and further the longer you're away."

"Get the fuck off me! Don't you dare try to find me alone, Bla – !" The Joker issued a vicious hit to her gut, effectively cutting off her speech and making her wince. He tried to press his face close to her's again. Even in profile, I could see the resolve flicker in her eyes before she cracked her forehead into The Joker's nose.

She shoved him off to her left and her Converse were visible as she scrambled away. He stood with surprisingly grace and slowly drawled his feet to her until they were both out of frame. There was pounding and her frustrated shouts, as though she was banging on a locked door. She flew back into frame, clutching the back of her head in agony as though he'd ripped her down by her hair. His brown shoes were visible, and then his palm as he reached once again for the camera with a high cackle. He stood above her for a moment, the tops of his brown lace-up shoes visible on either side of her as she tried to crawl back on her elbows.

"Take a good look at her, Roby. That light in her eyes will be long gone the next time you get to touch her."

The camera jolted toward her suddenly as though he fell back on top of her. With a wild cackle from him and a scream from her, the footage ended. The video paused on a freeze-frame which perfectly depicted the tears collecting on her lower lash line, the contortions of her face as she screamed.

I let the phone fall from my hands with a clank. My pounding forehead sagged against the dingy blue seat in front of me. The bus's movements jostled me lightly as we rumbled away from the hospital. Blaze had always had a bullseye called bravery on her forehead, but never did I suspect trouble this serious would steal her from me. I considered, still in my haze, if I would've let myself fall so pathetically in love with her if I knew where her path would lead.

I had to stop The Joker, of that much I was certain. I stared down at Blaze's tearful hazel eyes on the phone screen at my feet. There was the distinct sound of an explosion to the rear of the bus. Faces snapped backward and eyes widened as another, much grander explosion bloomed.