The Dark Knight is everything I thought it would be, and more: sheer brilliance. Christopher Nolan, Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, and Heath Ledger are wonderful.

I've been waiting a long time to write this chapter. And it's finally here! There is a lot of dialog!

Chapter 14

Cackle

Why was this guy so hard to track down? In the past, the Joker was always one for making a scene or spectacle. He wanted anarchy and chaos, and he wanted everyone else to feel the same way. Corrupt the uncorruptable: it was his philosophy. If that could be done, then anarchy would ensue.

So what was so different now?

Batman had left my office about twenty minutes ago—through the window, of course. I was shutting my computer down and getting ready to turn off the lights in the building when my cell phone ringed. The number was "unknown". I flipped open the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"Helena Bertinelli?" The voice was disguised.

"This is she. Who's calling?" I slug my purse over my shoulder and leaned against my desk.

"Never mind that. You're getting yourself into a heap of trouble." My throat hitched. My brain immediately went into panic mode.

"What do you mean? Who is this?"

"You need to stop whatever it is you're doing. And you know what you're doing."

My first instinct was to lie. "I'm not doing anything. Tell me who you are!"

"I can't do that. The Boss will be coming for you if you don't stop."

The Boss. How did he know about my research with the Boss? "I don't know who this Boss is."

"You're going to deny all of this?"

"Of course, I am! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Then God help you. They're coming." The line went dead. This man obviously wasn't buying into anything I was saying. I stared at my phone for such a long time, trying to comprehend what just took place. After a few moments, it still didn't make any sense. Immediately, I threw my phone into my purse and turned off my desk lamp, rushing to the elevator of the building. The doors closed and seconds later, I was on the ground floor, running out of the building.

It was dark. The streetlights were all shut off. My car was parked about a block away and I wasted no time getting there. While sprinting, I reached into my purse, digging for my keys. I could see my vehicle getting closer…20 feet away...10 feet…

A pair of strong hands gripped into my shoulder as I was slammed into my car, my head hitting against the window. Pain shot through my entire body while I struggled to get free, but everything was blurry from the impact. My voice failed me—I couldn't scream as I heard a cackle from behind. "Well, well, well…"

Stiffening, the hands that were roughly holding me in place slung me around. Three men surrounded me. Two of them wore black hoodies and of the two, one held a gun. They were smiling sadistically at me. One of them threw me back at the car and the impact made my body go rigid. "What do we have here?" The third man said.

The other two remained silent. But I could tell from his voice who the third man was, even if I couldn't see him. I heard that cackle before. "It's the lady of the hour!" He walked closer and closer and began to leer over me. "You look a little scared, Helena." He was trying to make light of the frightening situation, as was his nature. Nothing bothered him. Ever. He enjoyed every minute of it, licking his lips. "Did you get my call?" I thought it best not to answer him. "I was told someone would call you. Did he?" He waited a moment for me to answer. "Well, I suppose it's best not to talk to strangers. I'm who they call the Joker."

"I know you're real name…Jack Napier."

There was a twitch in his eyes. I had hit a nerve, but he pretended like it didn't bother him. "OH! So it's true! You are the little researcher the Boss told me all about. How wonderful!" He licked his lips again. "But who's to say that's my real name?"

"I don't really care if it is or isn't, Jack."

He cackled. "Let's just get down to business, shall we? I'm here to send a message."

"What kind of message?"

"All kinds, really." He pulled out of his pocket a switchblade. "You see, that's what I do best." He came even closer and sniffed. "Oh, you smell wonderful." It was the first time in a year I could actually taste fear. Something flickered in his eyes. "I remember you: the girl who's family was murdered—all over the news! How…quaint!"

"Where you trying to send a message then, too?"

"No, just carrying out a job for me…and the Boss."

"Who is your Boss?"

"You know? You talk to much." He jabbed me in the stomach with his fist. "You see, sweetheart, you've been delving into stuff you're not ready to handle." I gasped for breath, trying to mentally block out the pain.

"So you're working for the Boss now? I thought you were better than that."

His eyes widened. "You're wrong, sweetheart. I always work alone. I'm just…doing what is right for me: self-preservation."

"I think you're just getting nervous. Batman is closing in on you, and you're freaking out."

Jack threw his head back and cackled some more, slapping his knees. He licked his lips. "Oh, the Batman! I love playing with him. But really…all that time while you were cowering in the bathroom while your family was being murdered—slaughtered like pigs?" I winced. "I knew you were there. But I wanted you to live."

"Why?"

"Because it's fun to see someone suffer," he grabbed me by the neck and leaned in to whisper, "and I like fun."

The Joker threw me to the ground and kicked me in the ribs. His other two stood by and watched smugly as the psychopath wreaked havoc on my body, bruising and cutting it in anyway possible. He took the switchblade and ran it alongside my abdomen, cutting my shirt and leaving a thin trail of blood in its path. I wanted to shriek in agony…but I knew that it would only encourage the Joker further.

"We have ourselves a little trouper on our hands!" He pulled me up to stand, but I just crumpled back to the ground. He tried again and leaned me against my car, slapping me in the face as if to wake me up out of a trance. "My, my, my…I love guns. I really do. But there is a time and a place for them. And when you send a message, you want to make it sure sticks with the person. Guns can't do that. But knives…oh, knives sure can." His switchblade was against my throat and blood trickled down it. "So believe me when I say…I'm going to make this as painful as possible."

"I believe you. I just don't care." Something like a growl came out of him as he threw me back onto the ground. He kicked me in my ribcage more times than I could count and I felt something snap: air escaped my lungs and I found it harder and harder to breath. He shoved his foot onto my head.

"Now, I wonder…if you really are as hardheaded as I was told. How many times can I jump on your head before it just crushes?" The Joker put more pressure on my head, lifting the grounded foot into the air. "One…two…three!" He jumped into the air, his foot briefly leaving my head. I braced myself for the sudden impact.

But it never came. I opened my eyes and the Joker had been tackled to the ground by none other than the dark knight himself. The crony with a gun shot at Batman, but his suit had deflected it. He jumped towards him and ripped the gun free from his hands, knocking it against his head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious. He turned back to the other crony and the Joker, but they both began to scramble away. "Another time, another place, Batman!" the Joker shouted over his shoulders, laughing maniacally as he ran. They jumped into a nearby car and took off before Batman could even get close.

He turned back around and looked at me. My face was planted in the pavement, but I could see his figure in the darkness. Seconds later, he was by my side, trying to lift me from the ground. "Batman…" I whispered, easing in and out of consciousness.

"Stay with me, Helena. I'll get you to the hospital." This woke me up out of my daze.

"NO!" I coughed, not anticipating my chest to hurt as much as it did when I shouted. He cradled me against his chest. "No…they'll come after me. I can't go there."

"You need medical attention."

"Not there…please. I can't go anywhere…they'll know."

"You can't stay here."

"Please help me."

"I am. Stay with me…"

"No…they know where I live…they got in…"

"It'll be all right." And that was the last thing I heard before falling into nothingness.

"I looked at her phone and she answered a call from an unknown person just minutes before her attack."

"We have no idea who it was that called her? Not even a tiny lead?"

"At the moment, no. We may find out more when we she wakes up."

"I can't believe this is happening…I warned her. She was in too deep, and she nearly got herself killed."

"No one could have expected it to go this far. It wasn't your fault." I recognized the voice, but I couldn't quite put a name to it. Everything in my head was a jumbled mess. I raised my eyelids just enough to peep out through the slits. His face…I remembered his face.

"Ricky," I said hoarsely, trying my hardest to remember the other person's name. Ricky jolted and rushed to my side, holding my hand. There were tubes sticking out of my arm. "What the hell…"

"It's all right, Helena. You're safe now."

"I'm in a hospital?" I attempted to sit up a little, but my arms felt like jell-o and I could hardly move my head. Ricky saw what I was attempting to do and pushed a button on the bed, raising it up to where I was propped up. The name of the other person finally became clear: Jim Gordon: the detective. He was good. I could trust him. "What the hell is in my arm?"

"It's a morphine drip. Just take it easy. You've taken quite a beating," he said, standing at the foot of my bed. His arms were folded across his chest as he scrutinized me. I had no doubt that there was concern etched into his voice. I was a civilian—not a cop—and I had delved too far into this thing. I could see the guilt in his eyes. He felt remorse for dragging me into this. But it wasn't his fault. None of this was his fault. I did it all on my own free will.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days," Ricky said, squeezing my hand in reaffirmation. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"I need some water," I said, my throat apparently dry as I croaked out the words. Ricky reached for a cup sitting next to my bed and tilted it to my mouth. The liquid sent a burning sensation to my throat. He set the cup back down on the table as he spoke.

"The nurse had this sitting out just in case you woke up."

"I've been out for two days?"

"Helena," Jim said, uncrossing his arms and ignoring my question, "we need to know what happened to you. Who attacked you?"

"It was the Joker…and two other guys. I think there were two other guys. It could have been one. I don't really remember."

"We found one at the scene. He's been taken into custody. What did the Joker say to you?" He flipped open a notepad and began jotting down my words.

"He said something about sending a message…he wanted to make it clear that I had gone too deep in all of this research. He somehow knew…I don't know how, but he did. I thought I had been discreet about my investigation...until now. The only people who know about it are you, Ricky, and--"

Jim coughed, eyeballing me. It was a warning not to say Batman, as Ricky was sitting right next to me. I had nearly forgotten...he didn't know a thing about Batman's involvement in the investigation.

"Who else?" Ricky piped in.

"No one," I said, back peddling as quickly as I could. "You two are pretty much it." Jim quietly sighed with relief.

"Anything else?"

"Other than beating the crap outta me?" I coughed and Ricky jumped, grabbing the cup of water once again. "I'm fine, Ricky. He admitted to murdering my family."

"What about the man on the phone?" Ricky piped in, acting a bit anxious. "Did you recognize his voice?"

"No, it was distorted. He was warning me about an impending attack if I didn't stop. I thought Jack was going to kill me. But then Batman…"

"We know all about Batman, Helena. He brought you to the hospital, himself. I daresay he made a few patrons and nurses about have a heart attack."

"I'm just thankful that Batman was even there, to begin with," Ricky stated in relief. "You were lucky that the man was close-by. If he wasn't there…" he shuttered.

"I know, Ricky." I looked back at Jim whose face was still laced with guilt. "Can I have a word with Jim? Alone?" Ricky seemed taken aback.

"Are…are you sure?'

"Yes…please, Ricky. I need to talk with him about some confidential stuff."

"Why can't you say it in front of me?"

"Please, Ricky. You wouldn't understand. Just for a few minutes."

He contemplated leaving me alone which made me a little apprehensive. Anything I said to Jim didn't need an audience. This was business, and personal business. I had hoped that Ricky would understand, but he stood up from his chair, dropping my hand in the process. He straightened his shirt and lifted his head high in defiance but walked out of the room in silence. "Jim, the Joker mentioned the 'Boss'."

"Did he?"

"Yes. He was carrying out a job for him and the Boss. But he also said that he wasn't working for him." Jim wrote this down on his notepad, and I could see the gears working in his head. "I think he was telling the truth."

"He admitted to killing your family…so that basically destroys any links we had between your father and the Gotham City Mafia."

"Not necessarily. He said he would do it as long as it meant self-preservation, I think. Perhaps he got into shit's creek without a paddle with the GCM."

"It's all speculation. And honestly, risking your life for mere speculations isn't worth it."

"I'm doing it on my own free will, Jim."

"It's suicide, Helena."

"I don't need a lecture, and I don't need one of my closest allies in this whole mess feeling guilty about what happened to me. None of this is your fault. The blame lies on me and me alone."

"You obviously need something, lecture or not. I'm posting a guard outside of your room here. There is another one outside the Gotham Gazette headquarters and one outside your apartment. Once you get released, you're going to be on a short leash, understood?"

I nodded, knowing that at this point there would be no compromise. "How long am I going to be kept like a prisoner in here?"

"The doctor said a few days. You have 3 broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, so bed rest is a necessity. And if all of the sudden by some miracle you do get better within the next few days, you're staying in the hospital, anyway."

"Why is that?"

"We're scoping your apartment, car, and office for bugs. It'll take a while. Plus, this hospital is protected and safe."

"Just in case someone calls, what hospital am I in?"

"Gotham General Hospital." The name of the hospital sent chills down my spine, and I couldn't figure out why.

"Okay…thank you. I'll do everything, just like you said."

He gave me an odd look, half expecting me to make a run for it. But in my current condition, anyone could see that it wasn't going to happen. Jim's face still had guilt written all over it. He was mentally kicking himself for allowing this to happen to me. But as I told him earlier, none of this was his fault. I knew what I was getting into from the very beginning. I was just surprised that nothing worse had happened. I could very easily have been killed if it weren't for Batman coming to my rescue. Thankfully he had stuck around until I left my office.

Then I began to wonder if he did that every time our meetings would end—if he stayed behind and watched until I left safely. It made me think that Batman wasn't as cold and heartless as he made himself out to be. He really did care whether or not I was safe. Did he think of me as more than just a temporary partner, here to give him information? Or was it something more? Was I more than just an accomplice?

Did I know who the man was behind the mask?