I'm writing this new chapter so soon because I really need to find out what's going to happen for myself because this story is running wild and out of control, which is kind of a good thing. Anyway, keep reviewing, I love reviews! Remember, no reviews=no new chapters.
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A huge explosion rocked the building that Milo, the Joker and Ace stood in. A blast of heat burst through the building and broke the glass of the windows that were situated high up in the brick wall, the newspaper articles that Milo had pinned carefully to the wall fluttered free of their sticky tack and flew high up in the room, lit by a red-orange glow that burst through the broken, darkened windows.
Milo, Ace and the Joker were flung to the ground.
"What the hell did you do, you crazy bitch?" Ace howled.
"Bye!" Milo yelled back, struggling to stand and staggering out of the building into the dark alleyway.
A burning van smoldered in the alley and Milo giggled as she walked past it, the scent of burnt metal and rubber stinging her nose. She listened to the sound of sirens screaming through the streets as she leapt into the blue sedan she had parked just outside the door and rushed out into the streets before the police could arrive at the blast site.
There was a moan from the back seat as a figure stirred.
"Hush," Milo said soothingly, patting the figure none-too-gently on the head as she maneuvered the streets one-handed.
The figure squirmed even harder and Milo removed her hand from the back seat and put it back on the wheel as she drove calmly past the police as they rushed to her newest crime scene.
Milo threw her head back and laughed, slamming her foot on the gas pedal.
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Mr. Gordon's crime unit roared into a small alleyway, a van, burnt out, lay on its side against the building on the left hand side of the little, enclosed road. Jim Gordon leapt out of his car, GPD vest glinting in the dull, shifting light. A little map lay on the ground in front of the burnt van, Mr. Gordon snatched up the little bit of paper and opened it up.
Try the next building was scrawled across the paper in permanent marker.
Mr. Gordon looked up and over to the dingy brick warehouse that was to his right, he called a unit of men over, drew his gun and stepped slowly into the building. A figure lay on the floor of the warehouse, still and unmoving in the smoky air. Mr. Gordon moved slowly towards the figure and flipped it over.
"Oh my god," Mr. Gordon whispered to himself as he got a look at the face of the unconscious man.
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Milo parked the blue sedan behind the building that her old apartment was in, her apartment, she grinned at that thought, that it was hers. She opened the side door and looked thoughtfully at the unmoving figure that was sprawled across the light beige leather of the plush sedan's back seat. She gently lifted the person's arm and let it slip through her fingers, landing limply back on the seat.
Milo leaned in and wrapped her arms carefully around the broad chest of Bruce Wayne, her current prisoner.
An hour and eight minutes later, according to Milo's pocket watch, Bruce was laying across her couch, still insensible and drooling as Milo glared at him and flexed her fingers, cursing him for being so heavy and cursing the dreaded elevator for being out of order.
Milo sat on the living room couch after pushing Bruce Wayne off of it unceremoniously; she had the remote control in one hand and her feet resting on Bruce's inert back as she folded her blood stained cream dress carefully while watching the shopping channel intently. Milo looked away from the television and back down to the bloody dress on her lap, she sighed and placed it in the fire-place, lighting up a cigarette, taking a drag and placing the tip of the cigarette to the dress and watching it catch fire.
She sighed and turned back to the television, annoyed that she had to get rid of a souvenir of such a momentous occasion.
Milo nodded off momentarily and was awakened when her living footrest stirred slightly beneath her. Milo looked down at Bruce Wayne as he blinked slowly, opening his eyes and trying to sit up, Milo pushed him back down with her foot.
"Good morning sleepy-head," Milo cooed.
Bruce groaned and shook his head, looking down at the front of his wrinkled and blood stained dress shirt.
"Where am I?" he asked groggily.
"Why, here of course," Milo replied, gesturing around the room.
"Why am I here?" Bruce asked, his voice getting louder as he strained to stand up, resisting the pressure Milo was pushing him down with.
"I wanted to…talk," Milo said, "a little more in depth."
"Talk fast before I take you in to the police," Bruce growled.
"That's not an option," Milo laughed. "Not at all."
"The things you've done…" Bruce trailed off.
"Wah, wah, wah," Milo mocked, "cry me a river and I'll drown you in it."
Bruce hissed through his teeth at Milo, pushing upwards with his back. Milo laughed and pushed down brutally hard on Bruce's neck, sending him sprawling back onto the dingy carpet that covered the living-room floor.
"Talk fast Milo," Bruce muttered, cheek pressed into the fibers of the carpet.
"You offered me something once," Milo said. "A legitimate life, right? In exchange for turning myself and the Joker in."
Bruce nodded silently.
"What if you were making the wrong kind of offer?" Milo suggested.
Bruce thought this through carefully, maybe Milo was right, maybe he had been offering the wrong kind of compensation to her, maybe he should have offered something a little less normal. He realized quickly that Milo didn't want normal, she wanted just the opposite.
"What do you want me to offer?" Bruce asked, choking slightly on the dust that was embedded in the carpet.
"When did you ever assume I wanted a legitimate life, Batman?" Milo grinned. "You don't have a legitimate life, I want what you have."
"Which is?" Bruce prompted.
"I want a double life," Milo said smugly. "I want to be what I am now, and I want to be what you are too."
"That's not possible," Bruce spat, amazed that Milo would ask such a thing. "You can't be a criminal and a hero!"
"According to you, Batman is whatever the city needs," Milo shrugged. "Maybe this city needs another set of criminals and another hero."
"Gotham doesn't need anything you have to offer," Bruce growled.
"That's a shame," Milo sighed theatrically, "I've already delivered the Joker to your Mr. Gordon."
"What?" Bruce asked, surprise outweighing anger.
"I suppose I'll just have to get a refund then, won't I?" Milo said, feigning irritation. "Return you, get the Joker back. Oh, wait, I can't return you."
"Let me go!" Bruce shouted.
"Shush, you'll wake the neighbors," Milo chided. "You have to stay, I promised you to the Joker and if I have to break him out, he'll be very annoyed that he doesn't have you."
"Why does he want me?" Bruce asked, breath catching in his throat, hoping he could call Milo's bluff.
He thought she was bluffing anyway, what if she wasn't?
Milo leaned down and put her lips next to Bruce's ear.
"You're Batman," she hissed into his ear, he shuddered as her warm breath fluttered on his skin.
Milo sat back up, fiddled in her pocket, moments later, Bruce felt a sharp pain in his neck and then…nothing.
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Jim Gordon stood in a seemingly familiar scene, here he was, outside the holding cage, and there, behind bars, was Gotham's madman, the Joker. Jim frowned solemnly, this was an old scene, but last time it hadn't ended well, last time it had ended in near disaster. Jim was determined not to let it happen that way again, it would go his way this time, the Joker would answer his questions and the Joker would be put away and would never get out.
The Joker noticed Jim Gordon staring, he laughed harshly.
"We meet again," the Joker grinned, sitting on the bench, hands on his knees. "Do you, uh, remember how it ended last time?"
"What's your name, Joker?" Jim asked, cutting to the chase and ignoring the Joker's little biting comments.
"…Do you…know who got me in here?" the Joker asked, inserting pauses into his sentence.
Jim Gordon shook his head.
"Trust got me in here," the Joker told Jim. "I trusted, just a little bit for one person not to screw me over, nothing more, just to not screw me over. Do you know why else I'm in here? It's because I trusted someone who wasn't afraid of me. See what happens when the people you trust aren't afraid of you? You get screwed over."
Jim Gordon remembered something Milo had said about getting screwed over by snitching, he was almost sure the Joker wasn't going to tell him who turned him in, but Mr. Gordon had a pretty good guess of who it was, there were only two people in Gotham capable of this.
"Milo did this, didn't she?" Jim laughed.
The Joker frowned momentarily, not pleased that a city cop was laughing at him.
"And the player wins the…prize," the Joker squealed in delight, trying to regain some lost dignity.
"I do, don't I?" Gordon said. "I won you."
"Sorry Detective," the Joker snickered, "my heart belongs to someone else already."
"Very funny Joker," Gordon said sourly as the Joker laughed wildly in his holding cell, almost rolling on the ground from laughter.
"Oh, hee hee, ha, it, ahaha, is just too, haha, funny," the Joker crowed.
It was Mr. Gordon's turn to frown.
"You are going to Arkham," Mr. Gordon told the Joker. "There's nothing you can do, but it would go better if you gave yourself up."
"You just don't get it do you Gordon?" the Joker asked. "You've never gotten it, have you?"
"Stop talking stupid," Mr. Gordon ordered.
"I'm not the one who's going to be talking stupid," the Joker said. "Not when you're on your knees with a tube full of explosives down your throat."
"Is that a threat?" Mr. Gordon snapped, his patience wearing.
"Oh, you'd better believe it," a silky voice hissed from the doorway.
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I'm really crappy at cliff-hangers, but I try. So anyway, this is part 14, is being stupid and isn't letting me upload any new stories so sorry for the wait. Remember to review because otherwise there aren't going to be any new chapters. This story is running wildly out of control, I never know what's going to happen until it does so if you have any suggestions or comments about the plot, I'd love to hear them!