Disclaimer: Batman still belongs to DC Comics and Warner Bros.
A/N: This chapter is going to include some rather graphic details of physical and psychological torture. It's key to the plot, but it might make some readers a little squeamish.
Serial KillerThe Scarecrow watched calmly as the Joker set up a camera and tripod in front of the unconscious Detective Edward Nashton. The Joker had tied Nashton firmly to an old table, stretching out his arms legs. Two large cinder blocks propped up the legs of the table where Nashton's upper body was resting, putting him at a slant that would allow the camera a better view of him. The man was still suffering the effects of the fear toxin, writhing and muttering to himself, but the dose Scarecrow had given him had been relatively low. It was enough to terrify Nashton into unconsciousness, and it would continue to affect the man when he woke up, but only enough to heighten the very real terror the Joker would put him through. Since there was no further use for his toxin at the moment, the Scarecrow had decided to forego wearing his mask.
The Joker had found a condemned toy store in which to make their little film. They hadn't wanted to draw anyone's attention to their real hideout, which was safely at the opposite end of the city. The dusty and cobweb covered toys gave an oddly creepy feel to the place. Scarecrow could imagine that a more cowardly man might feel as though the dust coated dolls were watching them.
Dr. Crane was eager to study Edward Nashton's fear transform him into a criminal as the Joker planned, yet the doctor was staying in the background and letting Scarecrow deal with the actual torture. Psychologically torturing someone, even to the point where they hurt themselves, was something Jonathan could handle. Physically torturing people himself brought up too many uncomfortable memories of his own past, memories the doctor would much rather forget.
Of course, the Scarecrow whispered to Jonathan in their head, it doesn't help that he reminds you so much of yourself.
That was true enough. If it were some big, stupid jock that the Joker had strapped to the table, Jonathan would've had no trouble watching and even participating. What made him uncomfortable with Nashton was how similar the detective was to him. Nashton's slender body was covered in fading bruises, no doubt from the beating he took the other day, and it reminded Crane too much of looking in the mirror at his own body in the past. Worse still were some of the things Nashton had cried out during the height of the fear toxin's effects. Nashton's childhood sounded almost as hellish as Crane's own.
Scarecrow frowned slightly at the path Jonathan's mind was taking. He decided to comfort his other side. We're doing this for him, Jonathan. As awful as it may seem, he'll be better for it. He's been brainwashed by the police and the courts into serving and protecting the very people who had allowed him to suffer for so long. They wouldn't have helped him if he hadn't proven to them he was useful. Once we break through that conditioning he'll realize how badly they've used him…and he'll join our side to punish this corrupt and sickened society.
Inside their head Jonathan nodded. The Scarecrow was, of course, right. Edward Nashton would suffer, but he would be much better off in the end. I'd still prefer it if you stayed in control during this.
Scarecrow gave a small smile, "Certainly."
The Joker looked up from the camera lens, "What?"
Scarecrow tapped his finger against his temple, "Just talking to the doctor."
The Joker shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world, turned back to the camera and gently blew on the lens to make sure it was dust free. He stood up and clapped his hands together in anticipation. "All set. Are the ladies in place?"
Scarecrow nodded, "They're sitting downstairs 'guarding' the front door. They shouldn't be able to hear anything."
The Joker pursed his lips, "Good. They seem alright with little crimes like breaking homicidal maniacs out of prison and committing armed robbery, but I still don't think they're quite up to all out torture yet."
"Agreed. Besides, on the off chance the Serial Killer or Batman finds us, the women will be able to raise a warning."
The Joker clucked his tongue, "To be honest I almost hope they don't. At least not until we're finished with our little buddy here." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Now, do you have that little torch thing?"
The Scarecrow moved towards a shelf near the doorway, where he had placed all the lab items the Joker had requested the ex-doctor bring. "It's called a Bunsen burner. Where would you like me to put it?"
A malicious grin crossed the Joker's face, "On top of that box beside the table. Right next to the crowbar."
The Scarecrow did as he was told. He had a feeling he knew at least one of the tortures Nashton had to look forward to. "Will you be filming all of it?"
The Joker shook his head, "Probably not the lead up bits…just the really fun stuff!" He leaned over Nashton and whispered in his ear, "Wake-y Wake-y."
The detective didn't move.
The Joker grinned and poked his finger against one of the bruises on Nashton's ribs. In a slightly louder voice, "I said wake-y wake-y."
The detective remained unconscious, but he groaned from the jolt of pain in his rib and turned his face away from the Joker. The insane clown's eyes seemed to flash and he roughly grabbed Nashton's face, turning it back towards him. In a demonic sounding voice the clown shouted, "WAKE UP!"
The young detective's eyes snapped open in sudden shock and he looked up at the Joker. The clown smiled at him pleasantly, as though he hadn't just scared the other man awake. He loosened his grip on Nashton's face, giving him a friendly pat on the cheek. "That's much better."
The detective's eyes narrowed, "What do you want?"
The Joker gave him an embarrassed, almost shy smile. "To be your friend."
Nashton stared at him, "And why do you want to be my friend?"
The Joker grinned and turned around. He grabbed a file folder from underneath the crowbar then shoved it into Nashton's face with a flourish. "Taa-daaa!"
Nashton sighed and even though the Joker was blocking his face, the Scarecrow could tell the detective was rolling his eyes. "You've got it too close to my face, I can't actually read it."
The Joker gave an embarrassed, "Oops," and chuckled. He pulled the file back far enough that Nashton could properly read what was on the cover.
The detective glared first at the Joker and then Scarecrow, "You read my file."
The Scarecrow smiled, "We did indeed."
"Well," The Joker interrupted, "it was my idea. I took one look at your file and said to myself, 'Self? This guy sure used to be a lot of fun. Starting a lucrative criminal career at 10 years old? This guy is just bursting," The Joker mimicked an explosion with his hands, "with chaotic potential.'"
Nashton shook his head, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I outgrew my childish need for revenge against the world a long time ago."
The Scarecrow pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and rattled the contents. Nashton lifted his head awkwardly from the table to identify the sound. He frowned when he saw what the Scarecrow was holding. "You went through my medicine cabinet? What's next, you're gonna start pulling out the contents of my sock drawer?"
The Joker started laughing and Scarecrow chuckled. Nashton was putting on a brave front, but underneath that was a palpable sense of fear. Scarecrow calmly walked over to the detective and held the pill bottle out for him. "Having been a celebrated doctor for an insane asylum, I'm well aware of the valuable information that can be found about a person just by reading a few pill bottle labels." He rattled the bottle slightly for emphasis, "These aren't for something you can outgrow."
The detective's green eyes glared up at him. "Maybe not, but I've learned to live with it. I'm nothing like the two of you."
The Joker burst into wild laughter and roughly grabbed Nashton's jaw. The laughter suddenly died as he painfully stretched the detective's neck so their faces were mere inches apart. "That reminds me a lot of something Harvey Dent might've said. He thought he was nothing like me either." The insane clown clucked his tongue with mock disapproval, "But really, all he needed was a little push to get him started. Now admittedly, he didn't exactly last very long, but Gordon can tell ya just how effective ol' Two-Face was when it came to causing a little chaos."
The Joker's face seemed to light up as he watched understanding spread across Nashton's face. The detective's voice was hardly a whisper, "The police framed the Batman to protect Harvey Dent's reputation. All those murders…they were the people he blamed for his disfigurement and the murder of his fiancé, Rachel Dawes."
The Joker released Nashton's face and the detective's head fell back against the hard table. "Unfortunately, as much fun as it was to watch Harvey abandon everything he ever said he believed in, he didn't have the necessary joie de vivre necessary for staying power." The Joker gave Nashton another friendly pat on the cheek, "See that's where you're different, Eddie. Mind if I call you Eddie?"
Nashton glared, "Only my friends call me Eddie."
The Joker clapped his hands together once, sharply. "Great! Look at the progress we're making, already using nicknames."
Apparently giving up on reasoning with the Joker, the detective turned his attention to Scarecrow. "What do you get out of all this?"
Scarecrow smiled down, almost benevolently, at Nashton. "The chance to participate in the experiment, of course. Just what does it take to create a criminal like the Joker or myself? What defines our kind?"
The Joker cut in, "What makes us special? You've been tricked, Eddie. They've told you that you can live a normal life, be like everyone else." The Joker bent low to look Nashton in the eyes, "Meanwhile they medicate you, manipulate you, force you to suppress all your energy and brilliance…and for what? The only so-called reward you get is to be as mediocre as everyone else."
The Scarecrow stood close enough to the other two men that he could clearly see how deeply affected Nashton was by the Joker's words. There was a battle going on behind the detective's eyes and everyone in the room knew it. The Joker let the silence stretch for several moments, "When was the last time you asked someone a riddle? You love riddles and puzzles, don't you?"
Nashton blinked, the sudden change in topic momentarily confusing him, "I haven't thought of riddles in a long time…"
The Joker looked down at him sympathetically, "Let me guess: your therapist or psychiatrist or whoever the court sent you to after your little arrest told you that riddles were an unhealthy pastime that connected you to your criminal past. Am I right?"
The detective shook his head, "NO! I can't believe how easily I've been letting you manipulate me. People can change. I was never a bad person. I was just a confused kid who wanted a way out of a bad situation. My arrest led me to a safe home, an education and a respectable job." He glared right into the Joker's dark eyes. "I have nothing to be ashamed of."
An ugly scowl twisted the Joker's mutilated face. He smacked his lips in annoyance and shook his head like an angry horse. "You know what? For a moment there, for a moment, I actually thought I got through to you. But you just have to try playing at being a hero, don't ya?"
The clown moved with jerky, angry steps to the camera, and stood in front of it. He combed his fingers through his hair as if to neaten it, then roughly turned the camera on to start recording. "Helloooo citizens of Gotham. I apologize for my long absence from your T.V. screens, but I'm sure you'll all be relieved to see that I'm back! I have a very special guest with me today, so please give a warm welcome to Detective Edward Nashton."
He stepped aside gesturing with a flourish towards the half naked figure of Nashton. The detective clenched his fists but said nothing. Scarecrow gave a few slow, mocking claps. The Joker moved back in front of the camera, "Now you're all probably wondering, 'What's a nice guy like Eddie doin' hangin' out with hoodlums like them?' Well, I'm glad you asked, because that's kind of the theme for today: questions." The Joker stepped back and to the side a bit so that both he and Nashton were in view of the camera. "Being a detective, Eddie here has a certain knack for answering questions. To be honest though, I'm not interested in the answers at all. Unanswered questions are far more interesting, aren't they Eddie?"
Nashton smirked, "Since you just said you prefer your questions unanswered, I won't burden you with a response."
The Joker grinned at the camera, "Isn't he fun? Now, what makes Detective Edward Nashton such a perfect choice to illustrate my thoughts on questions? Well, I'm not answering that." He burst into wild laughter. After a moment he settled down and licked his lips. "But seriously, I'm gonna let Gotham's police figure that out for themselves. For now I'm gonna let Scarecrow take over camera duties while I, uh illustrate my uh, poinT."
The camera moved to follow the Joker as he picked up the crowbar presenting it to the camera like a model on The Shopping Channel. "Just in case there are any particularly slow viewers in the audience, this is a crowbar. To show you all that this is a real crowbar and not some sort of imitation, I'll give an example of how it is typically used."
Holding the bar with both hands he viciously swung it down at Nashton, hitting his left leg just below the kneecap. There was an awful cracking sound and the detective cried out in pain then clenched his teeth, sending the Joker a murderous glare. The Joker stroked Nashton's hair and made gentle shushing sounds like he was soothing an upset toddler. "There, there Eddie it's all for the best, I promise."
A thought occurred to the Scarecrow and he decided to speak up despite the fact the camera was rolling. "Should we stick something in his mouth so he doesn't bite his tongue off?"
"A very good idea Scarecrow." The Joker pulled out his handkerchief and grabbed Nashton roughly by the hair, forcing his head back far enough that he couldn't keep his mouth shut. The Joker shoved the balled up kerchief into the detective's mouth.
Nashton shook his head and tried to spit it out. The Joker slapped his hand against the detective's mouth to hold the cloth inside and leaned down next to Nashton's face. "Now Eddie, you heard what the good doctor said, didn't you? If we don't put something in your mouth while we tortu- I mean, get to know each other, you might end up biting your tongue out. That would put a serious damper on all the fun we could have, don't ya think?"
The detective's eyes seemed to burn and his fists clenched, but he finally nodded in defeat. The insane clown removed his hand from Nashton's mouth. "I think we're getting along just swimmingly, don't you think so, Scarecrow?"
The Scarecrow smirked. Since he was holding the camera he could only be heard not seen, but his dripping sarcasm more than made up for the lack of a visual. "Oh yes, like three happy peas in a pod."
The Joker ruffled Nashton's hair before picking up the crowbar again. "Now as I was saying, this is an authentic crowbar, as was proven by my little demonstration on Eddie's leg. But a creative mind, such as my own, can come up with so many far more interesting uses for a crowbar."
Nashton's eyes widened and he started struggling again. Apparently, he also had a creative mind and didn't like where the Joker was going with this. Meanwhile, the clown had gone over to the Bunsen burner and turned it on, crowbar still in hand. "You see a crowbar has a curved end and a straight end." He turned from the burner for a moment and gestured to both ends of the bar. "Both ends are kind of sharp. Not like a knife or anything, but good enough to tear skin."
The detective raised himself as far as he could from the table and rocked his body in an attempt to force the table off the cinder blocks. It was a far enough distance off the floor that it might break the table legs and give him enough leverage to break out of the ropes. The Joker looked over at him and sighed as though he was dealing with a particularly naughty child. The clown grabbed Nashton's hair and slammed his head backwards into the table. The detective was stunned by the impact and didn't try struggling while the Joker adjusted the table to ensure it was still safely on the blocks.
The Joker rubbed his hands together, "Now where was I? Ah yes, the uses of a crowbar. Well, see, I've noticed that us, more colorful members of Gotham society always have something that makes us instantly recognizable. The Scarecrow has his burlap mask, the Batman has his pointy eared suit of armor and I have my bea-U-tiful face." The Joker grabbed the camera and pressed his face close to show off his scars. He gave the camera back to the Scarecrow and walked back over to Nashton while still talking to the camera. "These somethings are always connected to who we are…they define us. So what does all this have to do with a crowbar and Detective Edward Nashton?" The Joker gave a sinister chuckle, "Riddles are HIS strength."
The clown turned away from the detective, picked up the crowbar and put the sharp, straight end of it into the flame of the burner.
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Commissioner Gordon felt sick. Since his phone call from the Joker last night he'd been unable to rest, scouring Detective Nashton's apartment for any clues that might tell him where the insane clown had taken the newest member of Gordon's police force. He had arrived in time to catch Batman searching the apartment. They didn't have much time to search together as Gordon had to summon other officers to avoid any suspicion. Batman had left with a few small clues, but the cop could almost feel the other man's doubt and concern. Detective Bullock had arrived at the scene moments after Batman slipped out the window. Bullock had banged on the doors of every neighbor in the hall and angrily questioned each one. Everyone had recognized the clown's nightmarish laughter and no one had dared to call the police. Hours of questions and frustrations later and Gordon couldn't bring himself to return home. He drove to his office instead.
It was still quite early but most of the morning staff had already arrived. There was tenseness in the air as he stepped into the building. Clearly, word had gotten out about Nashton's disappearance. The commissioner walked over to the main reception desk. "Has any mail come in for me?"
The receptionist shook her head, "Not yet, sir, but I'll run to your office the moment it comes in."
Gordon nodded and turned away. Someone had obviously let slip that the Joker had threatened to send a video. The last man to end up in one of the clown's little films had ended up dead at the end of a rope…Gordon shook his head violently. He couldn't think that way, not yet. Batman might've found something and perhaps…He stepped into his office and looked down at his desk. There was a bright green piece of paper folded on his desk. The commissioner's eyes widened and he grabbed it, swiftly unfolding it. The writing inside was a large, sloppy scrawl.
Dear Gord-o,
Changed my mind about sending my little film to you. Sent it to Gotham City News instead. They were informed to play it in time for the 9 A.M. news. Don't worry if you missed it already, I'm pretty sure it'll be played more than once.
Love,
The Joker
The commissioner checked his watch. It was 8:50. He immediately contacted Batman. It rang once before it was picked up. "Commissioner?"
Gordon wasted no time. "There was a letter from the Joker in my office. He changed his mind about sending the film to the police station. Apparently he sent it to the news channel instead. I'm assuming he threatened them into not contacting the police about it before they show it. He gave them strict orders to play it at 9 A.M."
"The video may give us a clue where they've taken Nashton."
Gordon ran a nervous hand through his hair, "If he's still alive."
Batman's voice was firm. "He's alive. This isn't like the impersonator he murdered to get to me. The Joker is after Nashton specifically. Whatever he wants, he needs Nashton alive for it."
Gordon took a deep breath. He prayed Batman was right. "I have to tell the other officers to turn the T.V. on. It's almost time."
They hung up.
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Detective Bullock stood next to Commissioner Gordon as a crowd of police staff watched the T.V. in Bullock's office. The news anchorwoman had warned the audience that no one in the newsroom had been allowed to view the material due to threats against the lives of those in the building. She warned them that given the source of the material that it would likely be violent and offensive. In Bullock's mind those words didn't begin to describe what the Joker and Scarecrow had done to Detective Nashton. The staff watched in horrified silence as the Joker heated the sharp end of the crowbar in the flame of the Bunsen burner until the metal was red-hot. They watched as Eddie's eyes widened in horror as the Joker approached him and scraped the hot, sharp metal against Eddie's chest. The young detective let out a muffled scream of agony, his body desperately trying to writhe away from the pain.
The Joker shook his head and clucked his tongue, "Now this won't do at all detective. How am I supposed to draw clearly with you moving around so much?" He gestured towards the camera. "A little help?"
The camera was jostled as the Scarecrow placed it back on its tripod and stepped into the frame. He held down Nashton's shoulders as the Joker wrapped ropes around his waist and even his forehead, forcing the detective tightly against the table. Suspiciously the Joker and Scarecrow hadn't tied ropes across Nashton's chest, leaving it completely bare. The Scarecrow moved back to his spot behind the camera and the Joker picked the crowbar back up. It had cooled down slightly so he returned it to the fire for a few moments to get it red-hot again. The Joker approached Nashton again and the detective squeezed his eyes shut as the clown raised the crowbar again. Another muffled scream, but this time Nashton couldn't move away from the pain. The Joker's body blocked Nashton's chest from view, so whatever he was carving remained a mystery. However, the detective's bound hands seemed desperate to claw at the air, compulsively flexing open and closed as he continued to scream in agony. After several minutes of this torture the Joker pulled away and Nashton slumped in his bindings, panting noisily despite the gag.
The Joker stepped back and admired his work. A slightly curved line had been burned into Nashton's chest, forming an arc over his heart from just above one nipple to just above the other like a sadistic rainbow. The Joker smiled proudly at the camera. "Now ya see, if I had tried that with a knife the burn would be faaaarrr too thin. You'd hardly notice it!" He pointed to the mark he'd left on Nashton's chest, "But see how the crowbar carves a nice, thick line? That'll leave a really great scar. Of course, we're not even close to done, but I didn't want our good detective to pass out on us." He smiled down at Nashton, "Ready for round two?"
The detective moaned and shook his head. Tears were beginning to fall down his face. The Joker gave him an affectionate pat on the head and stuck the poker back into the flame. "I've gotta admit I think I stretched the line just a little too far, so I'm gonna hafta start this next mark on your left nipple. I hope you're not too sensitive there."
The glowing tip of the crowbar scraped across the detective's skin and he shrieked desperately. The Joker ignored his victim's agony and continued to carve downward, once again blocking the camera from seeing what he was carving. Instead of carving in one smooth line, the Joker made many short scratches that he joined together so that the markings were connected but a bit ragged looking. Every time he got up to reheat the crowbar, the camera followed the Joker's movements to avoid revealing what was being carved into Nashton's chest.
Bullock had lost track of how long the horror show went on for. He noticed that Nashton had stopped screaming and had broken down into muffled panting sobs and moans of agony. While the Joker was blocking most of Nashton's chest, he had positioned himself so that the detective's face could be seen over the clown's shoulder. Blood from where the ropes cut into his forehead mingled with the sweat and tears on the detective's face. His wrists and ankles were equally bloodied. Bullock dimly noticed that Nashton wasn't wearing any shoes or socks, but then, he'd probably been in bed when he was kidnapped. It wasn't like the Joker or Scarecrow would be considerate enough to let him put on his shoes.
At long last the Joker pulled away from his victim, who seemed on the verge of passing out. The Joker dropped the crowbar and gestured towards Nashton's chest like a proud artist towards a particularly marvelous painting. Carved into Edward Nashton's chest and stomach was a giant question mark, the highest point reaching just under his clavicle and the lowest point ending mid-stomach. His navel acted as the dot at the bottom of the question mark, though it was obvious from the raw redness of the skin around the navel that the Joker had decided to push the hot metal into it anyways.
The clown smiled at the camera, "Questions anyone?"