EDITED CHAPTER! UPDATED CHAPTER!
UPDATE 2013: This chapter has been edited after my long hiatus. After re-familiarizing myself with the plot, new ideas popped into the mind and decided to explore. The essence of the story is THE SAME, but scenes have been re-imaged and dialogue improved to make this a more cohesive story. Hope you like the changes.
Author's note: Here's the next chapter of Joker's Playmate, hope you like it. It was written with a lot of love for you all.
But before we go to the chapter, I would like to take a moment to thank all of you out there reading...especially those that had left their reviews. Those are really appreciated. In the last chapter's reviews an anonymous fan came to the rescue with my grammar. He/she only signed with a pair of parenthesis...()...and I never thought I would say this, but those parenthesis have made all the difference. Thanks to my anonymous friend, that extended a friendly hand to the cause. The mistakes have been taken care off, and you will be happy to know that though I have a new beta for this story, your imput, reviews and comments will still be received warmly. Thanks for your help.
All other readers...reviews are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER 1: Batman and related characters are property of DC COMICS
DISCLAIMER 2: This story contains MATURE LANGUAGE and SITUATIONS as well as some instances of SEXUAL INNUENDO and some EXPLICIT SEXUAL REFERENCES. Please, I don't mind your age, but read maturely and be properly warned. If this is not your thing, don't go on reading
BETA: Because my readers deserved it, I finally have found a beta for this story. Please give a warm round of applause to DOLLHOUSEDISASTER who has joined me in this little project. She has helped not only on the grammar, but also polishing the rough edges to make this story really enjoyable and she has done a terrific job. Thanks girl...I owe you one!
Without much delay...here is your chapter.
Chapter 26: Unveiling at the Gala
Bruce ran over the stack of index cards that contained his presentation at the gala. Facts of previous accomplishments and future goals for the charity overwhelmed him. Normally he would not have any problems memorizing speeches like this, but his mind was everywhere but the gala tonight. Alfred had finished steaming the white dress shirt for the tuxedo assemble and had started fixing the monogrammed cuffs in the sleeves.
"I can't concentrate on this gala. You sure you can't tell them I got sick or something? I have work to do and I'm going to look like an idiot."
The butler went and grabbed a trio of bow ties that he tried on the shirt to select the best suited one. "You will not be the first one to read the speech from index cards sir. And I would suggest you calm down, this is not an election campaign, is just a charity gala. You'll be among friends."
"Did you give Selina an invitation?" Bruce responded
"By special courier like you requested, but she didn't know if she could make it tonight."
"Yes, and look at me, ready to talk to people I don't even know. She's probably following up the case."
"And I'm sure we can entrust her to continue your work while you take a few hours of your valuable crime fighting time to mingle with the Gothamite socialites for a good cause." Alfred took a moment to look at the shirt and bowtie assemble. "And Miss Vale will be a little late for the evening, so I arranged your date for the night."
"Arranged?" Bruce repeated absentmindedly rearranging the index cards in his hands. "I feel like I'm playing a part in a play."
"I thought it will look odd that the most wanted bachelor in the city arrives alone to the gala. I can just tell Ms. Petrova—."
"That Bruce Wayne does not want to be her date. I see that making the news, Alfred. No. I'll pretend to be someone I'm not once more. For the charities."
"Maybe that is the whole problem, Master Bruce. Stop pretending. Just be yourself and enjoy the night."
"Easier said than done. Spending the night with Helena will be okay...I guess. It's only one short night," Bruce responded, reviewing the cue cards again. He cleared his throat. "Welcome friends and thanks for joining me tonight for a cause concerned with the protection of our future generations." Wayne looked at his butler. "How does that sound…?"
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Selina looked longingly to the distant setting sun in the horizon. Night will be coming soon and with it the chance to get back into the night where she felt so free…and lonely. After talking to Bruce, she had realized how empty her existence had been as Catwoman, even though the sense of freedom had been irreplaceable. Was it real freedom, or just an illusion? She remembered the times her and Bruce had been together, and she felt her heart jump in her chest because, though she knew it had not worked well in the past, she did know that Bruce had…changed. She had hid her emotions in this false sense of freedom so long that she wasn't sure she could trust her heart again in a relationship.
Both their lives have been revolving around lies and deception, pretending to be who they were not, just to fit in a world that didn't understand them. And it took a demented clown to remind her of her failure…and Bruce's. This definitely did not fit her profile of the psychopath. Maybe crazy people are able to see things that normal folk missed. She smiled…yeah, like dressing up like a cat was what normal people did. Maybe she was not that different to the Clown, and neither was Bruce. She turned around and looked up at the sky where the first stars had started to twinkle timidly and thought she was going mad…there was nothing she had in common with the Joker, not in a million years, but still, loneliness had started to hurt again. Maybe it was time to change the scenery, and partying out with an old friend might be what she just needed
Oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Joker entered Mask's little hideout singing a happy tune as he carried the dry cleaner's bag over his shoulder. It had been so nice of Bone-Head to set a little cozy place in the outskirts of the city; better than having to return to old hideouts that only reminded him of a past he was anxious to forget.
When Joker entered into the main living room he noticed Jonathan Crane sitting on the sofa reading calmly a scientific magazine under the dim light of the table lamp. He just ignored him as he walked over to the large mirror on the wall by the end of the room to check the makeup he had used to try to mingle with the rest of the world tonight. Just ignore the good doctor and keep calm for the show, he thought to himself. He needed to keep his anger in check, especially if he wanted to impress Mask…and himself.
"You look different." Crane finally said from his seat, setting the psychiatry journal on his lap.
"It's called makeup, Jonathan. You should try it. Works miracles." Joker responded as he returned to his tune. Ignore the gnat, ignore the gnat…just ignore the gnat.
"What are you up to Clown?"
He's not letting go, is he? Should we kill him? The Jester shook the thought away. No matter how attractive the idea, there was not going to be any bloodshed on his hands tonight. "None of your business, Spooky. Ask the Boss."
"You've been acting strangely ever since you got here. Calmed, in control…so much unlike you." Crane responded leaving the psychiatry journal on the chair as he rose to meet the Jester by the mirror. "When I read your psychological profile-."
"You read my profile…" Joker said stopping everything he was doing to look at Crane through the glass. Something moved inside him and he pondered if he should disembowel Crane or just wring his neck. Calm down…relax, he thought adjusting the purple bow under his neck "Good. Then maybe you learned something useful. Now leave me alone, Spooky. I've got work to do."
Crane adjusted his glasses. "When I finished reading your profile, I diagnosed you with repressed anger psychosis. You just BELIEVE you have a dark sense of humor, when in reality you're projecting your anger on the rest of the world while fantasizing it's a big joke so you don't have to deal with the guilt. I don't know how they could've missed that."
"Sure, Dr. Phil," Joker responded running a hand to tame the black curls of hair and checked the dark color against the mirror. No green roots were visible and he smiled complacently. He placed a pair of thick spectacles over his nose and admired his look on the mirror.
"But you are no longer angry. I can tell. "
"Crane, get out of my head."Joker hissed.
"I always believed that you needed the anger to fuel your fantasy and you refused to let it go, because this anger was the only way you could handle…whatever it was you needed to handle. And you craved that anger, because you needed it to be or feel…alive and part of a world where you would otherwise not fit. It was never suspected as you disguised your anger with a dark humor, deceiving everybody. But your anger makes you powerful, daring. Maybe if I'd-."
"Stop psychoanalyzing me." Joker warned setting the thick glasses over the table and fixing the purple vest.
"I'm just trying to understand the reasons that would've made you join Mask and the rest of us. We are going to get rich beyond imagination if this deal goes through, but I know you don't care about money. You're a selfish, arrogant, insane, angry clown who doesn't play well with others and I don't think you like Mask either."
"And you do? In case you missed the last meeting, nobody likes the walking corpse." The Jester opened the garment bag and set his black tuxedo aside. "Especially, Dent. Oh…Twoffers was pissed."
"Dent is jealous of anybody who threatens his newly found power, but you I can't read. You've radically changed, right after you had captured the Batman. I wonder if there's a correlation."
Joker didn't even think about it. He swirled around and thrust his fist squarely into Crane's jaw, sending the psychiatrist to the floor and his glasses out of sight behind the sofa. The Jester's eyes narrowed and his lips pulled down, in a grotesque expression of pure hatred.
"Sensitive subject, I see," Crane said through a swollen lip. "Your real psychosis IS with the Bat, isn't it?"
"The Bat is just a toy that has become old and worn. Black offers me a new toy, actually a whole menagerie of them and I took him to his word."
"You're a bad liar, Joker. You have something else in that twisted head of yours and it will screw us all in the process." Crane looked at the blood from his lip.
"And what brought you here, Spooks? Because I doubt it was just Black's beautiful face."
"My motives…."
"I don't care about what moves the straw inside your head, Crane. Just let me have fun, OK?"
"You're risking my money, Joker. You're unpredictable…and dangerous."
"And funny. Now, let's find out if you're really made out of straw…." Joker chuckled as he jumped on the psychiatrist, pinning him under his weight. Retrieving a small flamethrower lighter from his pocket the Jester turned the flame up as high as half a foot and just an inch from Crane's face. The psychiatrist pushed away the lighter with all his might when he felt his sideburns beginning to singe. Joker laughed maniacally, until the psychiatrist thrust his fist against the Clown's nose, which gave with a cracking noise. The Jester let go of the lighter and stopped laughing, pulling back in pain with blood pouring from his nostrils. Jonathan stood quickly and kicked the kneeling Clown sending him against the coffee table, then pulled a knife from his pocket.
"No, let's better see how many slices it takes to get to the sweet center of a dead clown," Jonathan hissed. At that moment the door opened and Black Mask entered followed closely by six of his associates, including Gabriel who stood beside the gangster.
"I hope there's an explanation for this, gentlemen!" Mask growled staring at Joker who was cleaning his bloody nose with a bright lime green handkerchief.
"He started it." Crane said with blood dripping from his lower lip as he pointed at the Clown. "I told you he was unpredictable."
"Well, if you wouldn't have tried to kiss me, Jonathan…" Joker responded pursing his lips as if giving kisses.
"What?" The Psychiatrist snapped as he lunged with the knife tight in his hand before he was stopped by one of Mask men, who with a twist of the wrist quickly disarmed him.
"Don't deny it, Crane. You can't stop thinking about me." The clown's lips parted in a wide toothy smile.
"I'm going to rip that stupid smile off your face, Joker."
"Enough you two!" Black blasted as he picked up the Jester's lighter from the floor. As he pressed the trigger, and a foot long flame glowed with a bright bluish shade. Mask turned the lighter off and put it away in a pocket. "I need you to behave like grown men, unless you see fit I find someone else to fill your places."
"Don't look at me. I was getting ready for work," Joker responded pointing at his tuxedo by the mirror, "Now have to retouch this costume and makeup."
"So you can look pretty for the Bat?" Crane retorted with a cynical smile.
"No, I'm getting ready to meet your mother and she promised we'll practice the horizontal mambo all night long." Joker snapped back at the psychiatrist with a forward thrust of his hips.
"I SAID…ENOUGH!" Black growled, making both Joker and Crane retreat a few paces. The gangster didn't remove his eyes from the Jester who seemed bothered by the sudden attention. "You can settle your differences some other time, now I need to have a little talk with you, Clown."
"Any beauty tips I can help you with, Boss?" Joker jested around.
"No. Just want to know if you have something that belongs to me?" Mask aimed his gun at Joker's head. The Jester did not flinch, but stared angrily at the barrel.
"Mmm. I don't think a hole in my head will go well with my evening attire."
"No, but it will solve a little problem I have. Have you seen my keys?"
"Though that's a nice machine you got parked back there, I swear I didn't take your Audi for a spin, Blackie." The Jester chuckled.
"Your humor is starting to annoy me. I'm not playing, Joker. I want my keys."
"Oh, you're in trouble now, Clown." Crane purred softly with a large grin on his face as he retreated to the exit. "I think I'm leaving."
"Hold on, doctor. I'm sure this is something you have been dying to see. I'm waiting Joker."
"Why is it that people like to blame me for everything? Gordon, the Bat…YOU!"
"You had your hands all over me before, Joker. Including…" Mask started to explain when he noticed the strange look Crane, Gabriel and his men were giving him. There was no need to go into the details. "Told you your ego gets in the way of your genius, but I think I also misread your intentions. My bad. Now my keys…please."
"OK, Skeletor…I've had enough. If you think I've got the keys, then search me, but you will also have to search everybody in this room including your albino ape and his friends." Joker extended his arms wide. "Come on, be my guest."
"You might not have them with you now…"
"JUST…SEARCH ME!" Joker roared as he advanced fearlessly towards Mask and his gun. "And you can search my coat and toys in next room too."
Black motioned to Gabriel, who started searching the Joker's suit and once finished, he shook his head. Another of Sionis' men entered the room and reported a similar negative result from Joker's other belongings.
"Where did you put them?" Masked warned putting the barrel of his gun centimeters from the Clown's face.
"What, you could not find them? Surprise, surprise. Guess I didn't take them after all." Joker huffed. "Now it's time to search your whole boys club. One of them has it when you find who does, you and I will have a little chat…of the unfriendly kind." Joker motioned towards the white haired associate. "He's next."
"Why would I-?" Gabriel protested when Mask order him silent. One of the thugs searched Gabriel, and he and the white haired associate searched everybody else. No keys.
"Satisfied?"
"No Blackie, you're next…they're probably in the wrong pocket of your Armani."
Crane got concerned when he saw angry the look in the gangster's face. "Can I leave now?"
"I don't have the keys…" Mask snarled, "That's the whole point of the argument."
"Crane's next…and then Penguin, Dent and his two friends, and the voluptuous Ms. Isley. She has places to hide those keys. Places you can get lost in..."
"Lair!" Everybody looked at the psychiatrist. "I don't have them, Black."
"Don't worry, Jonathan…Skeletor probably left his keys inside the pants he sent to the laundromat." Joker said glaring angrily at the gangster as he reclined on the wall beside the mirror.
"But I don't have them…" the psychiatrist protested as he saw Mask's two thugs approaching him menacingly. "Really. Never seen them. Don't even know what they look like-."
"Then you have nothing to fear, Dr. Crane. Gabriel, please search the good doctor." Sionis never stopped pointing the gun at the Jester.
Mask's associates started searching the psychiatrist thoroughly, investigating every pocket in his clothes. From one of the back pockets, Gabriel pulled an old rusted key in a beautifully sculpted key ring with two interlaced dragons. Black Mask looked back at the Jester who still glared at him silently from where he stood. He then glared at the psychiatrist.
"It's a shame Doctor," Mask finally said, lowering his gun. "You, of all people."
"I don't know how that got in there, I swear Black. I didn't take them."
"We'll have a little chat about that. Gabriel, please have Dr. Crane escorted to my office."
"You were going to shoot me for the keys," Joker protested, "and you want to have a chat with him? That's not fair."
"You…were being stubborn, arrogant, and very annoying," Black responded, breathing heavily, "I was angry, and-. You're right, I owe you an apology."
"That's it? I've killed for lamer excuses." Joker combed his black curly mane with a hand and looked away as they dragged a complaining Scarecrow to Mask's office by two large thugs.
"I… I normally don't apologize. That should be enough."
"Not necessarily. Because when you lose your glasses, you'll probably blame those on me too!"
Black studied Joker intensely. "I can pay you a generous amount…for all your trouble. Will that satisfy you?"
Joker for the first time smiled. "Oh, Blackie, you know that it's not money what moves me to do what I do, but the chance to be part of a great show. The laughter of this city as it slowly dies is music to my ears…"
"You're sick."
"True, but why does everybody forget I'm funny too? It's my sex appeal." Joker cackled. "And if you really want to make it up to me, you can lend me that albino friend of yours for the party tonight."
"Gabriel?"
Joker shrugged and smiled maliciously. "What can I say? I need a dancing partner and Gabriel here tickled my funny bone when he searched my pants. I really like him."
"But I don't like you!" Gabriel spurted out.
"The more reason to get well acquainted." Mask said while Gabriel glared at his boss."Sure, why not. He's my best man. You don't mind helping, right Gabriel? Do it for me…no, for us."
The thug's eyes shifted nervously between Black and the now smiling clown. Black lowered his gaze, snickering softly as he left the room. He murmured something intelligibly to the thug's ear and let out a chuckle as he exited.
"Whatever… 'boss' ."
"Oh joy!" Joker clapped happily. "Now Gab, please go and meet my boys next door, they will bring you up to date with the plan for the night. I have to retouch this stupid makeup before we go." The Jester waved a hand effusively. "See ya in a while…my albino crocodile."
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
The party was way under way when Bruce Wayne made his entrance into the room, holding hands with a beautiful young brunette that seemed dazzled by the millionaire's presence beside her. All the looks where on him, as he made his way through the main ballroom, and he hated each one of them, for he knew that they were just taking note of things to gossip in the socialite circles. He nodded politely at the Commissioner of police that approached him.
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne. I thought we would miss the host tonight."
"Traffic was horrible tonight after I picked up…" Bruce motioned to the girl beside him.
"Ms. Helena Petrova. Nice to make your acquaintance, Commissioner," she responded with a gentle bow.
"Petrova…the lead dancer of the Russian Ballet?"
"Yes," Helena beamed. "Have you been to the Russian Ballet?"
"Well, yes," Gordon responded glancing at Wayne who was looking away as if searching for someone in the crowd, "A few years ago and I enjoyed it very much."
Helena smiled. "I vill try to get you some entrance tickets for the show this weekend, it is our grand finale."
"I really appreciate that, thank you." At that time, a thin tall man with thick spectacles snapped a picture of the trio, dazzling them with the sudden flash. Bruce tried to see who had shot the camera flash that almost blinded him, but all he could see was a tall man in a black tuxedo and a purple vest covered in a million white spots of light.
"Ms. Petrova, I'm with the Times," the young man announced with a large smile on his face. The thick glasses in his face distorted the bright green eyes behind them, "would you mind if I ask you a few questions for our celebrity column?"
The dancer looked at Wayne, her eyes pleading for a few moments with the press. The millionaire smiled shyly at her and then at the spectacled photographer who was getting ready to snap another picture of them. Bruce put a hand over the reporter's camera and smiled politely. The photographer took the hint and set the camera down.
"It's okay, Helena. I need to take care of a few things. I'll be with you in a moment."
Bruce saw the photographer take Petrova away to a secluded corner of the room when his attention was attracted by two of the waiters that seemed to be pacing around the room aimlessly with their trays of canapés high into the air. The Commissioner's cell phone rang. Gordon was quick in answering, while his face changed to a dark gloomy expression. The Commissioner finally put his phone away and the look of concern was obvious in the old man's face.
"Mr. Wayne, there is an emergency I need to tend to. I'm sorry. I'd love to stay but—"
"I understand, sir. Duty calls." Both men shook hands, and Bruce took the drink from the Commissioner's hand. Gordon turned and left towards the foyer and the entrance, when Wayne tried to have one of the waiters pacing the room to take his glass. No one seemed interested in stopping by him. Bruce noticed he was not the only guest ignored in the room.
The millionaire then saw his butler admonishing some of the younger waiters and followed an angry Alfred enter the kitchen after a young ash blond waiter with an empty tray in his hands. Once there, he noticed the butler speaking sternly to the young man, no older than twenty-five, who was fixing his uniform pants that had started to sag.
"Be polite and greet everybody with a gentle bow, it's not that hard," Alfred said to the waiter, "Carry the tray like it's an offering, not a clump of dirty laundry, and watch that uniform."
"Yesssir!"
"Good, now go and do another round of hors d'oeurvres. Then come back here." The boy exited quickly out of the kitchen, a look of embarrassment on the young face as he passed by Wayne.
"Is everything alright, Alfred?" Bruce said setting the glasses he carried on the kitchen counter.
"It could be better if they would teach these young men how to serve properly. I expected experienced waiters from the agency, and instead I get…" the butler pointed to the boy that had left, "…them. Guess I should be thankful that those kids have a job and are not on the streets, giving you trouble at night."
Bruce's smiled but it was short lived. "Gordon had to leave…he said it was an emergency."
Alfred eyed Wayne suspiciously. "I hope the host is not planning on leaving the party prematurely."
"It could be important, Alfred." Wayne fidgeted where he stood. "He looked concerned."
"I understand, but your absence will be hard to explain, especially before your speech." Alfred sighed as another waiter entered the kitchen. "Maybe that's something the other young masters will be happy to look into. I'll give them a call if you want."
"You're probably right. Yes. Is there anything else I could do to help here?"
"No, its fine. Leave these details to me. You enjoy the night, and please get out of my kitchen." Alfred pushed the millionaire out the door and into the conglomerate of people in the room that seemed to have doubled in number since he left…five minutes ago. Then he remembered how large crowds have always made him feel, like a stranger…this time, in his own home. Words came back to his memory… 'Do you feel alone in a room full of people?' Words spoken by someone he had believed in, over his instincts, but that now he knew spoke out of a twisted mind in an insane turmoil of madness and violence.
He walked deeper into the room, when he was greeted by the governor, who congratulated him on the success of the foundation's record donations this year. Bruce exchanged some more words with the governor when Stratton left to meet with other group of investors. Stratton was always hunting support for his political career. Wayne then bumped into an old friend.
"Seems like a lovely night," Vicky Vale said, with a sweet smile on her face that could melt any heart. "even if Alfred runs you out of the kitchen and all…"
He looked back at her focusing on those beautiful green eyes. "You saw?"
Vicky nodded. "Was hard to miss. That's Alfred's castle and you should know better."
"Just wanted to lend a hand. The help tonight doesn't look too…experienced," Bruce said as he reached over to grab a glass of wine from a passing waiter that didn't even slow down for a second, "did you see that?"
"Yeah, but they're young too."
"That's what Alfred says too, but still. Serving is not rocket science." He said sipping his drink. "He'll put them in line." They both laughed. "I heard you would be late for the gala."
"Yes, they found Galindo's body floating in the river. Went to cover the news and it was not pretty."
"Any playing cards…?" Bruce asked lowering his gaze. He felt that he should have been there investigating the crime scene instead of here at a party he didn't feel comfortable in.
"None, but you know that doesn't mean anything. He probably had a lot of fun with him…like his nurse at the apartment. There were no cards there either." Vicky made a pause as Bruce nodded silently. "I saw your date for the party…I'm impressed."
"Oh, that one…it was a last minute thing." Bruce chuckled. "If it would have been up to me, I wouldn't even be here…heh…even forgot about the gala altogether with all that was going on."
"Still busy with your…work?"
"Extremely. There are still a lot of loose ends there." Bruce responded absentmindedly looking as a pair of waiters almost literally ran with their trays between the guests. "And something must've happened. Gordon left in a hurry."
"I noticed, and you're still here. It must be really hard to be…normal," Vicky looked at the crowd and noticed the white haired waiter with the empty tray that disappeared towards the kitchen. The man, in his mid thirties, looked like he meant business and the only one who knew his craft. "I haven't seen Dick or Tim tonight."
"They're at work. It'll be fine."
"How are things going with them? Last you told me, things were…tense."
Bruce shrugged. "I haven't spoken to Dick, but Tim is, well…Tim. Things are okay, and we just need time to cool down."
"Bruce," she said when she noticed Bruce looking over another group of waiters serving by the fireplace. Those waiters seemed more concerned on moving around fast than actually serving.
"There is something wrong…" He responded looking back at her. Vicky was holding her head with her hand. "You okay?"
"Just a little lightheaded," she chuckled. "Guess I had too much to drink already…"
As she finished the sentence, people started falling to the ground. The Governor and his wife first, followed by the Major and his. Soon beside him Vicky fainted and he hardly had time to catch her before she hit the floor. There was something really wrong here, and he could feel getting lightheaded after only one sip of his drink. He crashed the glass against the floor and holding his breath, he stumbled towards the kitchen, skipping motionless guests on the floor. By the dishwasher, a group of waiters had gathered around an unconscious butler.
"Mr. Wayne, a picture for the Times…" A voice came from behind. Bruce turned when he was blinded by a bright flash of light. He pushed the photographer away with all his might when he felt an immobilizing pain in his neck that forced him to the floor. The last thing he saw was a dark something coming at him and suddenly, the left side of his face was in fire and everything went black. Voices were still around him, but distant and reverberating like the echo inside a cavern. One among them, came clear in a falsetto he remembered from somewhere in his past. "Did you see how he pushed me? The brat…Take the rich boy to the showroom and make him comfy…and he's going to pay for this camera…my tux…my health insurance…my…." Then the voices stopped and he drifted into unconsciousness.
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Hello there…anybody home?" Bruce heard the voice in the falsetto again, at the same time someone tapped hard on his forehead. The left side of his face was numb and he felt dizzy, but he had started to regain control of his muscles that he tested against what felt like tight binds locking his hands and feet in place. He opened his eyes and a large face, smiling wide, started to come into focus. Bruce blinked a few times before he could identify his interloper….the Times photographer at the ballroom. The photographer's green eyes seemed to look at him from behind his thick pair of glasses with mirth.
"Who….who are you?"
"Tonight's entertainment," the photographer answered with a childish giggle. That voice…NO…it can't be him.
"Let me go," Bruce snarled fighting the binds. He was not going to be the Joker's plaything tonight.
"There's no use, Brucie. You're not getting out of those knots tonight. Gosh, you millionaires can be so bratty…." The photographer took off his thick glasses and put them away with a sigh of relief. "Oh, and look what your face did to my camera. That was a brand new Nikkon." Joker started to laugh madly.
"You hit me with the camera." Bruce hissed.
"I don't care. You ARE the millionaire…you pay for it." Joker chuckled and held a piece of his lapel dangling down his pocket. "And you ripped my tux too."
Bruce looked around and immediately recognized he was in the armory room, where he kept a vast collection of ancient armors and weapons along with a large set of ceremonial masks from all over the world. He found this place strange for a meeting with the Clown, especially when there were more valuable things inside the house. But then, the Jester was anything but usual in the way he behaved. He pulled again against the ropes restricting him on the chair he sat on. Maybe if he loosened up those knots a little, he might have a chance.
"What you want?" Bruce snapped behind gritted teeth.
The Jester walked over to a large South Pacific straw armor encased in glass and smiled. "Wearing that would make me itch…even in places I didn't know I could itch. Interesting collection of war toys from a man concerned with helping his fellow man. You are a man of contradictions, Brucie."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT!" Bruce snarled. The Joker in exchange stared at him intently.
"Bring me the girl," the man said calmly to one of his henchmen while he looked back at Bruce with a large toothy grin. "If you knew who I was, you'd know screaming at me is not a good thing to do. It makes me…very angry."
Bruce saw as they dragged a half asleep Helena Petrova, with hands tied to her back. He tensed against the binds, wishing he could wring the Clown's neck and took a deep breath trying to calm himself. He could easily take over the Jester and his thugs as Batman, but tonight he was not Batman…just Bruce Wayne. He would have to wait for a better opportunity to turn the tables, without looking suspicious. Pretend. Time to play his role as millionaire playboy a little longer.
"Listen, I'll buy you three more cameras, one hundred tuxedos and give you all the money you want. Just please…let her go."
"Oh, Brucie…you're really a softy for the skirts," The Clown chuckled. "Since we're in the cooperative mood, I'll make it cheap for you. Maybe you want to tell me where you keep a mask like the one my colorless friend is holding."
Gabriel glared at the clown and advanced a few feet carrying an old wooden mask with an opening for three eyes and a fanged mouth. Bruce looked at the white haired man, and then back at the Joker.
"I don't know what you're talking about. That's the only one."
"This is a reproduction. The real one has an inscription inside." Gabriel said. "And I know you have the original."
"Yes, the one that doesn't say 'Made in Indonesia'," Joker added with a giggle as he walked over to the ballerina, unsheathing his .38 special which he put against the terrified girl's chin. "Maybe you can talk him into telling us, eh sweetheart?" Petrova started to speak in Russian between desperate sobs.
"JOKER, NO…PLEASE!" Bruce yelled when Joker looked back at him. His green emerald eyes opened in surprise. "Please…don't…"
"So you KNOW, who I am…I'm impressed, Brucie. What gave me away? My beautiful smile…or the bullet I'm going to put in your girlfriend's head?" The Clown moved a step away from the Petrova, aimed and fired. Helena screamed and fainted as a large red and yellow banner sprang from the Joker's gun and hung inches from her face. The Jester busted into a frantic laughter, holding the gun and it's banner like a flag and Petrova fainted. Bruce remained unmoving, his eyes boiled with anger behind blue irises.
"HA! They don't make ballerinas like they used to." Joker said busting into another round of laughter.
Once the Joker calmed down, and his laughter had subsided, he looked around only to realize he had been the only one laughing. Instead everybody looked at him like he was some type of alien. With one languid chuckle, the Jester pulled the banner from the barrel and put the gun away. He peeled the mask from Gabriel's hand and walked over to the playboy millionaire.
"You are a tough crowd," Joker said aloud, kneeling beside Wayne. "And you, my dear boy are the hardest of them all. Now tell me where's the mask…please? This is starting to lose its fun."
Bruce just stared at him angrily, forcing Joker to look down at the mask in his hand. There was something in the strength of those angry blue eyes that forced the Jester to look away. Joker tried to smile, but to no avail. There was nothing funny now. He took the mask and pressed it against the millionaire's face and for a second he took a glance of the blue eyes behind the blackness of the mask. Eyes he knew and that had spoken to him in the past. Eyes he could read like the pages of a newspaper, and that had opened a door to the soul of a man he had always considered his twin.
"It's you…" Joker let up in a soft almost imperceptible whisper. Then his face lighted, like a boy in Christmas day, looking at all the wonders under the tree and not knowing where to start unwrapping. Behind him, Gabriel approached, gun in hand as Bruce fought out of the mask. The thug pulled his gun and pressed it hard against Wayne's face.
"I'm tired of playing this stupid game Joker. I'll show you how this is done. Where's the mask Wayne?"
"Gabriel stop…" Joker hissed.
"You're just wasting our time here. I want the mask Mr. Wayne and you're going to give it to me or you die. Or maybe you want us to start with your girlfriend."
For a second time today Joker didn't think, but instead, let his anger take over as he smashed the fake mask on Gabriel's face, knocking him to the ground. The thug moaned on the floor as the rest of the gang just stared frozen in place unsure as what to do.
"He told me I could play with the millionaire, and play with the boy I will!" Joker snarled. "If you have a problem with that, drop dead, 'cause you're playing this one according to my rules and I say BACK OFF the brat!"
"I don't think you have any idea who you're talking to, mortal, but I don't take orders from you or your kind." Gabriel growled as he reached for his gun. Joker fired his .38 hitting the thug in the hand that started to bleed profusely. Joker walked over as Gabriel put pressure on his wounded hand. The look on the Jester's face was an angry one rather than the perverse delight that normally he felt as he inflicted pain on someone else. He knelt and picked on the droplets of blood from Gabriel's wound and painted a smile on the thug's pale face.
"You need to smile more often Gab. It helps ease the pain, take it from me." Joker rose from the floor and dusted his tuxedo. "And I think your psychosis is worse than mine. Now go and check the guests at the ballroom if you think you can accomplish that simple task. Then we'll have a little talk."
Gabriel glared at the Clown and after pulling a large engraved knife from his tuxedo, he lunged after him. Joker swung with the agility of a dancer, trying to avoid the approaching blade. Gabriel was lucky enough to slice the fabric on the Jester's sleeve, before the Clown kicked him to the floor. The white haired man growled as he got ready to attack once more and Joker fired his gun, hitting Gabriel dead end between his eyes. The thug hit the floor hard and dark blood started to pool underneath him on the floor. An eerie silence filled the room.
"Oops!" Joker finally said, holding the gun tight in his hand where Bruce noticed the obvious shaking in the Jester's hand. "Definitely NOT the way I had planned this."
The other four thugs in the room with him couldn't help but look among themselves. Lou was there, in the minority, with three of Gabriel's associates beside him and he realized that hell was about to get loose. He quickly reached for his weapon when he saw the Clown slapping on the gun in his hand. The other thugs looked confused and more concerned when Joker started talking to his gun.
"Bad gun, bad gun!" The Jester said dropping his .38 special on the floor and stepped on it angrily. "Why do you have to spoil the fun? WHY, WHY, WHY?" Joker took a moment to look at the men in the room. "I…I didn't…DAMN! Could you guys give me a moment alone? Take the girl, go and check on the other guests or whatever. I need to fix this..."
"We need the mask before we go." One of Gabriel's associates said when Joker glared angrily at him.
"You'll have your mask, but I NEED TO BE ALONE NOW!" Lou started towards the door. The other thugs just stared at each other. "What're you waiting for? LEAVE!"
Silently, all the remaining men left the room leaving the Clown alone with the millionaire tied on the chair. Joker started pacing nervously between exhibits, murmuring to himself. Bruce just followed the Jester with his eyes, while he started to work on the knots that held him tight on the chair. Taking on the Clown alone was going to be a lot easier than taking on him and his entourage of thugs, but he had to do it fast, because this maniac was quickly loosing it. Wayne was startled when Joker lunged at him, stopping only inches from his face, staring into his blue orbs intensely.
"YOU SAW I WAS PROVOKED, RIGHT?!" Joker asked, his eyes glistening as if tears were pooling under those emeralds. "I DIDN'T WANT TO KILL HIM, HE JUST…" the Jester took a deep breath and his voice trailed off as he looked at Gabriel's body."He just left me no option. It was him or me."
Bruce remained silent, not sure how he should answer that. Joker went on. "Oh come on, Bats. I've tried really hard. Didn't kill anybody at the asylum or your party, have I? I was just…I don't know. I just reacted."
Wayne eyed the Clown suspiciously. "Excuse me?"
"What's wrong with you, Bats? You're not fooling me. I know it is you under that expensive tuxedo and stupid look of surprise in your face. I would recognize those baby blues anywhere in the whole world, especially under a mask."