Fair Warning: This chapter has canon-typical violence. The kind you only find in the comic books. When the Joker is heavily involved. And it's allowed to escalate.
"A friend in need is a friend indeed
A friend who bleeds is better."
"For reals?! For really reals?!" Jester bounced up and down with excitement as he half walked, half ran next to his dad. His short feet taking two steps at the time to make up for the Joker's long, confident strides.
"Would I lie to you?" Joker placed his hand on his chest with a sincere look on his face, -not that it really meant anything when it came to the Joker. Even when he did lie he usually believed in his own lies, which always made him seem even more sincere. And the few times he didn't, he could fake it better than most hollywood actors.
There was a reason he was not allowed near any other patients at Arkham anymore. Or guards. And only the bravest psychologists dared pry into his mind anymore, considering his track-record with them.[1]
The Joker grinned and ruffled his son's hair.
"No son of mine is going to go around not knowing how to properly torture someone, and put the fear of...well...us...in them!"
Jester let the big hand push him down with a bit too much force, and giggled happily.
"So what's he done? Since we're trying to get info and all from him? He's done something, right? You wouldn't bother to drag someone aaaaall the way out here if he hadn't done something," Harry nodded in that adorable pretend-adult way children often do.
"He's been following you around for a few days now. One of the boys saw him and told good old Johnny-boy about it. I told Johnny to capture the creepy pervert drooling over my son and take him somewhere remote, and here we are!" he grinned widely, snapping his fingers as a signal for his men to turn on the single lamp that had been set up in the large, darkened room.
It lit up with a sinister click and revealed a strangely dressed man in his late 40s that was tied up in the middle of the rather large warehouse they were in. He was currently strapped down into what looked very much to be a dentist chair.
Jester briefly wondered where John had found it.
The middle-aged man in the chair chose that time to let out a small whimper of fear, belaying just how cowardly he was considering the fact that he was barely even roughed up a little.
His brown hair was a mess, and his blue eyes were scanning the room, wide in terror.
He looked up and moved his head around frantically as he became aware of the sound of their leather-shoes hitting the cement floor.
Nothing.
Nothing but darkness and the eerie sound of two pairs of shoes hitting the floor in a casual walking speed, only to echo around him in the vastness of the open space of the warehouse he was now in.
Not that he really knew where he was, of course. Nor how he ended up there.
Above him the bright white light hurt his eyes and destroyed whatever night-vision he might have built up, yet revealing the sinister setting reminiscent of a dentist office that he could see in his near vicinity.
The sound of their shoes slowly came close, and closer, until it suddenly stopped.
All that could be heard was the man's own terrified, ragged breathing, and occasional scared whimpers.
"W...who's there? S...show yourself!" he tried, looking around frantically for the hidden threat.
Joker held his son back in the shadows and held up a finger to his smiling lips, warning him to be silent.
They were close enough now to see the man, but Joker made sure they stayed just far enough away from the light source that the man could not see them in return. The light blinding him certainly helped.
Jester nodded at his dad. He remembered Joker's many, many lesson on how to terrify people.
First you build up the tension. Let them guess what might be lurking in the shadows and let their imagination work them up into a nice frenzy before you pounced on them. Whether slow or fast -it depended on the situation and the victim.
Jester put his hand to his chin in a classical thinking pose -it was important to practice your posing as a Villain, he did read comic books- and he tried to decide what the best, most dramatic entrance would be.
Or maybe he should just calmly walk up to him... that might actually be even more scary... wouldn't it? His daddy did it a lot.
He looked over at his dad, hoping for some hint of what he should do, but the Joker merely looked at him expectantly. Clearly Jester had to do this on his own, and he really, really wanted to impress his daddy!
Making his decision Jester carefully snuck around the man, making a point to go slow and not make a single sound.
It was harder than it seemed, and he knew he had to make some indication he was circling the man. But most humans did have a certain sixth sense that told them when they were being stalked by a predator.
Well, that, and he didn't manage to stalk 100% silently yet. But he was getting there!
"W-who are you?! Show yourself!" the man screeched, trying to sound commanding but with a desperate tilt to his voice.
"You know... It's terribly rude not to introduce yourself when you first meet someone," Jester began, slowly appearing from the shadows behind the man, forcing him to twist his head uncomfortably to see who it might be, but Jester's face was still hidden in shadows, even as the man could make out the basic outline of his presumed captor.
Jester kept circling the man like a shark circling it's prey.
"I mean... I get it! It must be daunting to come right up and speak with an infamous celebrity such as moi![2] ...well... Like my father at any rate, although we do look alot alike, don't you think?"
Jester made a sudden twirl that made him slam down in front of the man, his hands slamming on the armrests of the chair, and his face invading the older man's personal space, showing off his unnatural grin.
The man let out a strangled scream and pushed himself further back in the chair.
The brown-haired man looked thoroughly freaked out by Jester's unnatural appearance, and he was starting to perspire a bit, but the lost look in his eyes as he tried to understand what the kid in front of him had just said hinted at the fact the man might not, in fact, be from Gotham.
"You do know who my father is...don't you?" he took a step back and tilted his head contemplatively.
The man shook his head quickly, his eyes wide in shock, but something was wrong... For a cowardly person like he seemed to be, he was not nearly scared enough of his father. And that was just plain wrong!
"I see... Well, then... I suppose I must educate you," he sighed dramatically and pulled out a roll of tools that he had personally 'liberated' from a dental clinic for this specific purpose. Admitting he did have some help from his dad -or rather, his dad's minions- but still...
The man's eyes darted nervously towards the tools as Jester laid them out on the metal tray next to him, and the cold-sweat suddenly got a whole lot worse.
But Jester -not unlike his dad- was not nearly finished with his monologue, and started talking again, even as he lifted up each wicked-looking tool and studied it.
"Don't get me wrong... This is my gig, not my dad's! But don't worry, I've learned from the best!" he turned and grinned to the man, before he forced a wire-like frame into the man's mouth to forcefully hold it open.
"Ever been tortured before?" he asked conversationally as he plugged the drill into an extendable cord next to the chair, then gave it a test run.
The sound of a rusty dentist drill echoed through the warehouse and whirled with a sound that very much felt like nails run down the chalkboard of his mind.
The man frantically shook his head, whimpering and muttering something incoherent -unable to speak with his mouth forced open like that.
"Yeah, I kinda thought so. Don't worry tho, it's my first time torturing someone too! I guess we'll learn together!" he said with a shark-like grin as he leaned over the man with the drill.
The excited look on the boy's face almost had the man piss his pants right there and then.
Jester quickly realized he probably didn't need to torture him to get the answers, but... he frowned.
"Daad...?" he turned off the drill and asked. "Do I ask the questions first? Or should I take one toot first... Y'know... Just so he knows what to expect? Or would that kill the suspense?
From the darkness not far from where they were standing came an eerie chucking sound. Something about it made the hair on the older man's arm stand up on his arms. There was just something...wrong... about that sound!
"That depends..." the Joker said, his polished shoes clacking on the floor as he stepped out from the shadows and finally allowed the man to see the deranged kid's aforementioned 'dad'.
"Depends on what?"
"On the person. Although from the look on this one's face, I'd say he's ready to talk already," the Joker peered at him contemplated, and as the deranged clown's face came into full view, the man finally lost what little control he had of his bladder and pissed himself.
"Definitely ready to talk. That wet spot on his pants is a dead giveaway," the Joker said deadpaned.
"Awwww!" Jester crossed his arms and pouted.
"I know. I know. But sometimes practicality must take priority over fun... if only so you can have even more fun later. And hey!" he grinned shark-like, "He might still decide not to talk once he hears the questions!"
Jester perked up at that.
"Okay dad!" he said, then started to loosen and remove the metal rack that had been holding the man's jaws open until now.
The man looked relieved. And if he could have, he would have rubbed his sore jaw.
As it were, he instead hoped and prayed that the kid wouldn't ask him something he couldn't answer -or that all of this was just a hoax to scare the info out of him!
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed right. I mean... What kind of parent let a kid torture someone?! And were those faces even real? Maybe it just was some kind of theater make-up! 'Oh, dear Merlin, please let it be make-up!'
"So why were you stalking us like that? What's your angle?" Jester asked, studying his face for any hints of a lie.
"I wasn't... I didn't..." his eyes flickered between them, and it looked as if he was trying to come up with what to say without risking what they might do if he was lying. And he really didn't like the way the older of the two were looking at him. Predatorial. Dangerous. Deranged.
"Just the boy, alright?!" he half-yelled, half sobbed.
"The boy who...uh...he... he-looked-familiar!" he said, nodding his head rapidly and speaking in quick staccato tones.
"I...uh... thought-he-was-someone-I-know! ...of!" he squeaked, his whole face flushing red.
Jester furrowed his brow.
"You're a terrible liar," he stated deadpanned.
"It's true!" the man insisted, looking far more sincere this time, while warily eyeing the scalpel-like knife Jester had picked up.
Joker placed his hand on his son's shoulder.
"He's telling the truth," he said, and the man relaxed a fraction. "BUT... not all of it," he said and stared at the man with
"What aren't you saying? Who do I remind you of?" Jester said, climbing onto the man's lap and patting his cheek with the scalpel-like knife.
The invasion of his personal space somehow made the young kid seem even more terrifying, and his shark-like grin didn't help, but if they didn't know... the consequences of telling them-
"I..." he licked his lips nervously, "I can't say! I mean... Just some kid! I mean... my long-lost nephew!"
He squeaked as he felt the knife slide down his cheek, but was relieved when the boy jumped off his lap without causing any further damage.
"Great!" the kid said a little too cheerfully. "Then I get to have some real fun!"
Batman was having a very bad day.
It had all started with what should have been a routine stakeout.
One that hopefully ended up with him capturing the Joker before he hurt any more innocent civilians, and -if he was really lucky- it might even allow him to talk the madman into accepting the help he so clearly needed.
He knew it was most likely futile, but he never gave up hope.
He was not, however, foolish enough to think the Joker would willingly come with him to Arkham, regardless of what the clown had said earlier.
...Although when he thought about it, he hadn't specifically said he wanted professional help... Just that he wouldn't mind having Batman support him. Possibly while helping him.
He briefly wondered if there might be a way to help him without locking him up in Arkham. The Asylum was little more than a glorified prison -even if the Joker seemed to view it as a vacation spot- and the Joker had never responded well to any form of treatment they had tried before.
If anything, the Joker was a danger to both the patients and the staff at Arkham...
It was something he had to think about.
But for now, he lacked the resources to do anything himself, and he could not, in good conscience, risk the lives of anyone else just because he had hesitated to capture him. Especially not now that he had gotten a solid tip about where he might be.
So Batman dropped his heavy thoughts to focus on the mission, and let himself glide down from Warehouse 11 where he had been perched.
He walked past the gap between the warehouses that they normally kept open for containers, even if they had non there at this time.
From what he could see, warehouses 12 and 13 were situated side by side at the end of the docks, and the only sign of life around there was a single human that was standing next to one of them.
As he crept closer, careful to keep to the shadows he looked at the large buildings to see if he could find number 12 -the warehouse the Joker seemed to have rented through a proxy company- and he was surprised to see that the one closest to the waters were number 13, and the other one was labeled 12.
It didn't match the pattern he had seen further down the docks, but he had to admit that he was no architect or city planner. There might be a perfectly logical reason for the discrepancy, but even so, he made a mental note about it to check it out later.
That said, he felt fairly certain the tip was solid, and that the Joker might actually be in Warehouse 12.
First of all, there was something that sounded vaguely like a muffled scream coming from the general direction of the warehouses, although he would be hard-pressed to say which one.
Secondly, the human he had seen from a distance turned out to be a slightly bulky man with a gun that had 'hired muscle' written all over him, and he was clearly guarding the entrance to said warehouse.
And thirdly, as he got close enough to sneak up on the guard and immobilize him and handcuff him, he heard what sounded like muffled voices coming from the door that the thug had been guarding.
There was definitely something fishy going on in Warehouse 12.
He just hoped he wouldn't be too late to save the poor victim.
"Did you hear something?" Jester asked.
"Nope. Must be this guy here shaking his chair," Joker said, shrugging, but still looking around.
Jester shrugged and turned his attention back to his victim.
"I have to admit I was worried you'd make this far too easy, and then I wouldn't have any fun at all!" he grinned and kicked a lever on the chair that made it fall backwards and into the classical leaned back position that allowed dentists better access to your teeth -or in this case; allowed a criminally insane child access to your teeth.
It was only when the boy forced the silver dentist tool back into his mouth, forcing it open, that the man realized that they really were serious!
The boy seemed to study his mouth with a mock professional seriousness.
"Oh dear, oh dear... This looks terrible! No, that lying tooth just got to go! What's your professional opinion, Dr. Joker?" he turned to look at his dad, whom was pretending to read of a clipboard.
"I agree, Dr. Jester. That lying tooth is terrible! Why, the poor man might even need deep a root canal to cure it! Oh, but I'm afraid we're all out of sedatives. I guess the patient will just have to grin and bear it!"
The Joker stretched his lips out in his signature shark-like grin, making the man cold-sweat and struggle to escape.
"Now hold still, or this is gonna be a lot worse for you!" Jester said with a mad grin of his own, as he picked up the dental drill and turned it on with a screeching, metallic sound.
The man's impotent screams were nearly drowned out by the mad laughter coming from both of his tormentors, as the boy started to carelessly drill into one of his healthy teeth.
"GAAAAAAAAAHHH! MMMMHHHHGGGG!" the man's screams turned into a symphony of pain just as it sounded like someone next door had started a shooting-party about two seconds before he really hit a nerve.
"Are we expecting any guests?" Jester asked, not lifting his eyes from his work.
"Not that I know of," Joker shrugged. "You never know with Batsy of course, but I can't imagine someone as smart as him getting the wrong location."
"It's not the cops tho, right? I mean... You'd hear them coming like...a mile away," Jester leaned back a bit to avoid the screaming that somehow continued even after he'd stopped.
"Well, if they are, they're crashing the party of the wanna-be gangsters next door, so I don't think we got anything to worry about. Just... wrap it up quickly, just in case."
"Alright dad," Jester said, looking a bit disappointed.
"Hey, it's alright," Joker leaned down and held Jester's shoulders and gave him a reassuring smile.
"You can come with me when I blow up that store I was telling you about. I mean... I need someone to drive the getaway car after all! Right, champ?" he grinned and ruffled Jester's hair.
Jester perked up at this.
"Alright daddy! That sounds fun!" Jester beamed, before he turned back to his victim.
Batman carefully opened the door, and snuck into the dark depths of the warehouse. He made sure to keep close to the walls as the warehouse to stay out of sight, as he preferred the element of surprise.
It seemed that the only source of light was a flash-lamp that only illuminated a small circle in the very middle of the room, however. And he was a bit worried that there might be more of the hired muscles waiting in the shadows, so he used his infrared vision to check for life.
Rats aside, there seemed to be a fair few human-sized figures standing around the room, but based on their close proximity to the light -even if they stayed at the very edges of it- he presumed they did not possess night-vision goggles.
With some luck, he might be able to snatch them one by one without any of them alerting the rest, and he could end this quickly and safely.
Batman silently stalked closer to the first of the men he would take out, and lifted his hand to quietly knock him unconscious.
Just as he was lifting his glove-covered hand, he heard a voice yelling something from the far corner of the room, at the very end of the storage room they were in.
"Finally found it Boss!"
Batman froze as the large warehouse was suddenly flooded with bright light, and revealed a dozen men or so that were all tooting guns.
They all looked to be deep in a discussion, and the ones whom were facing in his direction looked every bit as frozen in shock to see him, as he was to be discovered.
He also noted -with some surprise- that these were not the Joker's hired thugs!
In fact, of the many faces he did recognize were some of the higher-ranking officers of the Triade, as well as some of Maroni's people.
'Mafia'
The two leaders were turned towards a third party that he did not recognize, but based on the open weapon-crates that he now could see that was scattered around him, it quickly became clear that he had accidentally stumbled upon some kind of weapon smuggling ring, or a weapon dealer trying to get the mafia families to outbid each other for his future services.
Batman did not get more than a split second to reflect on all of this, however, because the men quickly overcame their shock and opened fire.
Batman was thankfully slightly quicker to recover, and quickly managed to punch the man in front of him unconscious, before he flung his bulletproof cape up to protect himself from the incoming hail of bullets.[3]
Batman withstood the first round of fire well enough, but he could already see the bullets wearing on the dark bio-silk fabric.[4]
Then suddenly one bullet ripped through and barely missed his hip, followed quickly by another.
Thankfully that was just about the same time that all the gunmen ran out of bullets and had to reload, which gave him approximately two and a half seconds to dive for cover behind a stack of boxes, while flinging a blunt batterang to knock out one of the men, quickly followed by a second one that took out another henchman.
Just as he managed to dive behind the boxes to safety the gunfire had started up again, but when they noticed that he had disappeared behind one of the big weapon-crates, they quickly stopped firing.
Which was -quite frankly- very bad.
It meant that they had stopped panicking and started to strategize. And he was wide open for attack on all the other three fronts, with only a single, large box between him and the enemy.
He had to think fast!
"Are you ready to start talking now?" he asked as he looked down at the whimpering man in the chair and removed the now blood-stained silver mouth prop from his bleeding mouth.
"P-please! Y-you don't understand! You d-don't know what they'd do to me if I-"
"Ah-ah-ah! I don't care what "They" would do to you if they find out that you blabbed. What you should worry about is what I'm going to do to you right now if you don't start talking~" he clicked the blood-stained drill on, holding it dangerously close to the man's face for a second, before clicking it off again.
"I-I can't! It's against the law to tell the mu- er... normal people! You don't know what they'll do to me! PLEASE!" the man was clearly torn between the fear of the boy in front of him, and the fear of whichever cult-like group the man clearly belonged to.
It just made the pair even more curious about what the brown-haired man was hiding.
Suddenly the storage room was filled with the sound of gunfire, after having quieted down a few seconds after the first time. However, this time they didn't seem to let up.
It appeared to come from the other side of the wall... or rather, the other building that was placed right next to theirs.
Joker glared at the wall before he stalked over to bang on it.
"Quiet down in there! People are trying to torture someone in here!" he yelled angrily.
However, the gunfire continued, and he doubted they even heard him.
"Neighbors!" he huffed, crossing his arms as he came back to his son and their victim.
"There goes the neighborhood..." Jester said with a sigh.
"Better hurry this up then. That noise over there is gonna attract the cops," Joker said and pulled out one of his knives and handed it to Jester.
Jester ruthlessly plunged the knife into the man's tight, and he screamed in pain.
"Since we are in a rush, courtesy of some very rude people, I really can't drag this out. So you better tell me why you've been following me around the last week, or I'll aim a little...higher... next time!" Jester said, giving the man's crotch a pointed look, before pulling the knife back out of his tight, prompting another scream and a stream of blood flooding down the man's leg.
"I'll talk! I'l talk!" the man practically screamed, even if every movement he made, and every word he spoke, hurt like hell.
Batman studied the dusty storage room for a few seconds, before he rushed towards a large, spread-out collection of various boxes, holding up his cloak as a shield to avoid the bullets. With some luck he might be able to hide long enough to make them split up and search for him, so he could take them out one by one.
He hissed as a high-speed bullet broke through the fabric and graced his arm, followed by another one that sliced by his left arm deep enough to leave it bleeding, before he finally managed to dive in behind the boxes and hide from the rain of bullets they sent his way.
He pulled a pre-cut bandage out of one of the many pockets on his belt, and with some effort managed to wrap it around his arm and stop the bleeding.
He slapped a piece of tape he kept for this exact reason over it, and hoped dearly it would hold up during the battle, or he might actually bleed to death. Not exactly the way he wanted to go.
He kept a wary eye out for the enemy as he stalked further into the labyrinth of plastic-wrapped boxes, while flexing his left hand a few times.
It seemed the bullet had not just grace by it, as he first thought, but lodged itself deeply inside it. He would have to get Alfred to remove it later.
It hurt to move it, but he could still use it, if he was careful to not overexert it. Hopefully doing so would not cause any lasting damage.
Once he felt he had managed to get far enough away from the gunmen and mafia thugs he pressed a hidden button on his cowl.
"Alfred," he whispered, "I need backup."
"I'll send the car," the butler's refined, british voice proclaimed, "Should I call the commissioner?"
"It's not Joker. Looked like the mafia. Weapons deal," Batman replied, trying to decide the best course of action.
A bullet lodged itself into the box next to him, and Batman disarmed the attacker with a batterang, before rushing up and knocking him unconscious. Only to have to run again as a hail of bullets came flying his way.
"Give me ten minutes, then call him!"
He doubted the cops would be quick enough to really make a difference, and he feared they might muck everything up if they came too early, but he would need them to come and collect the men, once he managed to take them out.
And he would take them out, he thought, as he threw himself into a game of hide-and-seek, trying to take out the men before they could take him out.
They might outnumber him by 14 to 1, but he'd faced worse odds and won before. He could do it again.
He refused to think about the alternative.
"Do you think we should switch them back?" Jester said, looking at the number sign on the warehouse as he watched his dad click the padlock back into place.
"Nah. 13 is more ominous, don't you think? I mean... When did you hear someone say 'Something horrible happened in Warehouse 12!' " Joker laughed and patted his son's back.
Jester looked to think about this before he grinned and nodded.
"Yeah. Hey! Can we watch 'Room 13' when we get back home?" Jester said, bouncing slightly as he waited for his daddy to lock up the warehouse properly, and pocketing the key.
Jester wasn't sure why his dad bothered, honestly. The guy was dead as dead can be.
But Jester had learned to never question his dad over the years, and he was sure there was a reason for it. It might not be a good reason. It could be a completely insane reason. But it would be a reason.
"What is it with you kids and horror movies?" Joker sighed, "Does nobody appreciate good, family-friendly fun anymore? Or comedies?"
"Hey!" Jester looked affronted, "I love the Marx Brothers!" he protested weakly, "And Chaplin!"
The Joker couldn't help but smile. At least his son wasn't a completely lost cause.
"That you do, son. That you do," he smiled and ruffled his son's hair.
"Now, about your performance today..."
The batterang flew from Batman's hand and hit his target smack over the head, knocking out the last of the henchmen.
The leader of the gang seemed to be running for the roof, and Batman had no time to pick up his batterangs if he wanted to catch up with him before he could climb down on some emergency ladder on the outside and vanish.
He only paused for a second as he thought he heard a groaning sound behind him, but when he looked, all he saw was a man who looked to still be unconscious, so he kept moving. He couldn't risk loosing the big fish just to make sure non of the smaller ones got away.
The staircase that went up to the roof was, in all fairness, little more than a ladder, but it served it's purpose, however rickety it was.
Thankfully it had also slowed down the man he was chasing, which was what saved him from being shot down in another hail of bullets.
As it were, the second the man got up he decided to put as much distance between himself and Batman as he could, and then rain down a hail of bullets at him.
Batman grit his teeth and held back a groan as one of the bullets hit his lower leg.[4]
This was followed by the sound of rapid clicking from the man's gun, indicating he was all out of bullets. Followed by the man throwing his now useless gun at him.
Thankfully non of the bullets pierced through the fabric of his suit, but they would still leave a nasty bruise, possibly a small fraction, and it was becoming painful to walk on it.
Batman was just grateful he didn't need to run or jump - the man seemed to be too much of a coward -or perhaps just too untrained- to risk jumping the gap to the next warehouse. He hesitated on the edge.
So instead of jumping the man rapidly scanned the area like a cornered rat and nearly jumped towards a broken-off pipe that was lying in a pile of debris on the rooftop.
Batman charged at him the second the man ran out of bullets, but he was too far away to reach him in time to stop him from picking up the iron pipe, and a fraction of a second to slow to pull back.
The pipe hit his left arm with a sickening crunch, just as Batman's right fist hit the mafia man's jaw.
Batman hissed in pain and stepped back out of the man's range, but it was already too late.
It didn't matter, however, because the man was clearly struggling with his balance at the very edge of the roof, and was forced to let go of the iron pipe in an attempt to avoid following it down the two-story drop down towards the hard asphalt below.
Batman rushed forward and pulled him back on the roof, just as he was about to fall, and throwing him roughly back onto the roof.
It was, however, at that exact moment that his already injured leg choose to give out and throw him off balance, causing him to misstep.
In his line of work a misstep could often be the difference between life and death, and for all that Batman refused to think about the possibility he might die, he was well aware of the risk.
He quickly grabbed at the belt where his grip-hook usually hanged, only to realize he had somehow lost it in the earlier battle.
It was too late for him to twist around in time to open his cloak and soar down -not to mention it had a number of holes in it that might make it less than optimal in that aspect- so he did the only thing he could do; He spread his cloak wide in the hope it would slow his fall, at least a little, and hoped to the high heavens that his armor would take the brunt force of the impact.
His only regret was...
Batman crashed into the asphalt below.
Hard.
"...and remember; next time you make sure to find out their name first. Nothing scares people as efficiently as when you seem to know more about them than they do about you. But all in all... good job, kiddo!" he ruffled his son's hair proudly.
Jester beamed at the praise, and was just about to open his mouth when he noticed something on the ground before them. Something that had not been there before. Something that shouldn't be there... Ever.
"Now, about what he said. I think we should..." Joker started, but then his foot froze in mid-step as he noticed what his son was pointing at.
"Daaaad..." Jester said warily said, and the Joker followed his line of sight.
"I see it, Jester!" Joker growled angrily as his eyes took in the sore sight that his son had just made him aware of, and he stalked towards it.
Batman didn't know how long he'd been out. It could have been seconds, or hours, or days. All he knew was that every bone in his body ached, and he'd hit his head pretty hard when he landed. The padding on the inside of the cowl had not helped nearly as much as he would have wanted. He should probably discuss that with Lucius later.
As he slowly became aware of his soundings, he heard the sound of iron being dragged along the ground.
Never a good sound.
The next thing he knew was that his world exploded in pain as the iron pipe hit his leg with a sickening crack, before it started raining down on him in weaker, more frantic blows.
His armor took the brunt of the force, but it still hurt as the man kept hitting him hard enough to bend the iron pipe out of shape, allowing him no respite to get up. All he could do was curl up and try to protect his already damaged head.
His ears filled with a static crackle, before the communication died completely. He could no longer hear his butler's voice, nor speak to him.
He tried, when he could, to sweep at the man's feet, but every movement he made exposed his more vulnerable parts and made him simultaneously feel like throwing up and passing out, and he couldn't work up the strength or the accuracy he needed to properly land a blow, so his best bet seemed to be to simply wait it out and hope the police would show up before it was too late.
And for the second time that day Batman seriously contemplated his imminent death as the blackness swam the edge of his vision after a particularly nasty blow to a less protected part of his head.
The mafia man was now pausing between each blow, heaving for breath while bragging about how he would be the one to finally end Batman. And how everyone would respect and fear him for it!
Then there was a sound, like a gunshot.
The man screamed in pain as it hit him, before it suddenly turned to pleading and begging, and then even more screaming.
There was words. Words he couldn't make out as he swam in and out of consciousness. A dangerous, threatening voice. A familiar voice.
The metallic clanking of an iron pipe hitting the ground.
A pain-filled gurgling sound -the sound of death- and the sound of a body hitting the ground near him.
And lastly, the sound of leather shoes clacking on the ground. Not rushing, as he would have expected of someone who would have helped him. It was certainly not the police.
Black leather shoes with white spats entered his rapidity dimming vision.
And his final thought right before the blackness hit him was...
'I know those shoes...'
The blackness only lasted a second this time, and for that he was grateful. But he kept swimming in and out of consciousness, and it was all he could do to not groan in pain.
"Batsy?" the Joker's voice sounded cheerful as it so often did, but it held a slight quiver to it that almost sounded like worry.
'Great,' Batman thought sardonically. He almost certainly had a concussion if he thought the Joker sounded worried!
His only response, however, was to groan and try to open his eyes. Speaking was out of the question. And to be fair, he didn't feel too great about thinking either.
Green hair and worried-looking acid eyes filled his blurry vision. And for a short moment he felt almost relieved. [5]
But then he remembered just how volatile and unpredictable the madman looming above him was, and he started to worry if this was it. If this was how he'd finally die.
This day had been filled with bad luck from one end to another.
The light from the streetlight hurt his head, and he was starting to feel just how badly hurt he was. But for all his efforts, he still couldn't speak.
"Who did this to you?!" the Joker demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously. It was clear he didn't believe one small-time crook could possibly have managed to take down the great and wonderful Batman.
It was almost sweet. Almost.
But the Joker didn't need to wait long for an answer, as the men that he had been after started piling out of the warehouse, looking a bit worse for wear after being knocked out earlier that night.
"I see..." Joker said and cracked his knuckles.
Batman did not think he had ever heard a voice quite so cold, nor so filled with hate, as the Joker's voice was in that moment.
And all because Batman was hurt...
Batman felt a slight fluttering in his chest at the clown's anger over his -Batman's- pained defeat, but he quickly squashed it down.
I did help his cause that his thoughts quickly turned to worry about what the maniac would do, and how much he hated not being able to stop him.
They might not be innocent, but a life was a life, damnit! And it would be his fault for not stopping him!
He groaned again as he heard screaming and running footsteps, and he tried hard to get back control over his limbs and get up.
All he managed to do was to roll over onto his back, as every time he tried to raise his head, he was overcome by dizziness.
The blood from the wound on his head was slowly starting to trickle down his cheek -even underneath his mask, and blurring his vision in red.
He silently cursed, but kept pushing himself back towards the wall, hoping to use it as leverage to get up.
Everything hurt.
Batman watched as the Joker finally turned around, a dangerous look on his face.
Spattered in blood, and with sharp blood-covered nails and a shark-like, vicious grin that was more a snarl than a grin at this point, the Joker looked positively demonic.
Batman tried to sit up again... only to feel his head rush and the darkness creeping in on his vision, as the glorious demon before him stalked towards him with a dangerous gleam in his eye.
The last thing Batman saw before his vision faded to black, was a blur of green and purple, accompanied by the gurgling, agonizing screams of the poor saps who had yet again tried to attack him.
It was over in a second, and the demonic clown knelt down beside him. But the look on his blood-spattered face was something soft and dangerous and possessive... and altogether confusing.
"Oh, Bats... What would you EVER do without me?"
Batman glared at the clown as he prattled on and on.
He was hurt. He was in pain. And he just wanted to sleep.
Not that he wasn't grateful that he wasn't dead in an ally somewhere, but he had things to do and he needed to get some rest. And with the clown here, that didn't seem very likely right now.
"I'm surprised you're not out there spreading mayhem and destruction." he said what had been on his mind for a long time.
"Why would I?" Joker said, confusion filling his acid green eyes, "You're not out there to stop me."
The words were spoken with such sincerity it almost hurt watching.
It also brought up a number of questions that Batman feared the answer of, so instead he said;
"Well, go be crazy somewhere else. I need rest!" he glared at the clown in anger, not believing for a second he'd listen. But much to his surprise the laughter and prattling stopped.
"Well, why didn't you just say so, Batsy, darling," he said and placed a fluffy, purple blanket over the mostly naked body of Batman. Then he cast a quick glance at the boarded-up windows that looked more like a second wall, and clearly decided he could afford to leave Batman alone for a little bit.
The straps that kept Batman strapped down to the bed that Batman was sure the clown must have stolen from a hospital and then reinforced might have helped that decision.
Joker flicked off the lights and the room went dark, leaving Batman with the clown's dulcet voice ringing in his ears, as well as even more questions.
"Good night, Batsy. Get better soon so we can play~"
The next time Batman opened his eyes he saw a sight he -in retrospect- should have expected, but that non the less made him choke down a surprised yelp.
"Hiii~"
The kid perched on a worn-down chair in front of him could not be out of elementary school, and he looked almost exactly like the Joker... right down to the purple suit with a green shirt and orange west.
The outfit looked so new he almost suspected it had been made especially for this occasion.
"Why are you still wearing that mask? I know dad says it's your real face, but didn't you hit your head or something? I think we should check it out, but dad says I'm not allowed to remove it. I don't get why tho, since he obviously already k..."
"That's enough, kid!" the Joker said, slapping his hand across his son's mouth, before tossing him out of the room and closing the door after him.
"But he does raise an excellent point," Joker said as he stepped back over to the bed.
"You are not taking off my mask!" Batman growled, as he felt the fear rising up inside of him.
It was bad enough that he was strapped down and hurt in the Joker's presence, it would be far worse if the Joker learned of his identity. The Joker might not kill him, but he could still harm or kill those around him. He had not forgotten about Jason.[6]
"I know, I know. You want to preserve some mystery in our relationship, and I get that, I do! And I totally agree, of course, that cute Bat-face is you, and not the mask under it! But I can't in good conscience leave your head-wound untreated like that. What if you die on me?!"
For that the Joker's cheerful act, Batman was sure he saw something like worry flickering in the Joker's eyes. He hid it well, but Batman was trained to pick up even the smallest signs of emotions in others. It was necessary in his line of work.
That did not mean he trusted the clown.
"No."
"Come on Bats... I'll let off the straps so you can turn around and everything! You can still hide your face -I know how shy you get- but I really must insist fixing your wound!" the Joker said, his brow furrowed as he crossed his arms.
Batman wanted to say no out of sheer principle. But the way his head hurt and his vision now and then went a bit fuzzy he feared the clown might actually be right about his head wound.
And he was pretty damned sure he wasn't about to let him go. Not that he'd make it far anyway, if his bandaged leg was anything to go by.
He really hoped it wasn't actually broken, but it still hurt like a bitch. And there was no way in Hell he'd ask Joker for painkillers!
Knowing the clown he might end up blowing up a hospital just to get him the best ones. Or give him some kind of homemade concoction made out of who-knows-what.
...it was disturbing how easily he accepted that the clown seemed to put in so much effort -however misguided- just for him.
"...Fine," he grit out, "But you will turn around while I take it off!"
"Of course, darling~ Anything for you," he said with fond exasperation as he started to undo the straps around his waist and legs, leaving the arms for last.
He might be insane, but he was certainly not stupid.
"Don't bother trying to escape while dad's gone. He booby-trapped every single opening, including the secret entrance, and possibly the mouse-hole in the kitchen wall. And it can only be disarmed from the outside, so unless you wanna blow up- blow us both up- you're stuck with me until he gets back!" the kid said, sounding annoyingly cheerful as he dug through the couch-pillows for the remote to the TV.
Seeing as Batman had steadily gotten better over the last weak the Joker had decided that it was safe enough to go out and do some shopping, and leave his son in charge of taking care of Batman till he got back.
Worrisome as the thought of letting the Joker go anywhere was, it was not like he had much of a choice.
It had taken Batman a whole of five days to get up to the point where he could move around with the help of a crutch that Batman sincerely hoped the Joker had not stolen from an old lady or invalid, or worse yet; killed someone for. And a few more days until the Joker decided to trust him to not hurt himself by trying to escape.
His leg was still in a cast, and his left arm in a sling. Joker also kept ordering to not move around too much, and lavished him with advice he had, apparently, been given by a number of doctors and nurses after some of Batman's more brutal beatings of him.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Of course, according to the clown's ramblings, half of them also told him they hoped he died, so he wasn't sure exactly how trustworthy all of their advice was. But he insisted the advice he passed on was the ones that had actually helped him the most in the past.
That didn't mean Batman liked it.
"What if I need the bathroom?"
"Oh, the door on the left it the bathroom -there's no windows in there, so don't even bother trying to escape that way-, and on the right is my room -you don't need to go in there and the window is booby-trapped from the outside, don't even ask me how he climbed up there-, and the door to the left of the bathroom is my dad's room. Do not go in there! I mean it! DON'T!You'll regret it! A-hah!"he finished triumphantly as he held up the elusive remote-control, before he went over to turn on the TV.
Batman rubbed his head. The kid was just as bad as his father. Neither of them ever shut up.
"Oh! I think the movie is still in my room!" he said and ran off to find it, leaving Batman alone to ponder his options.
He decided he did need to use the toilet, but as he passed the door that was the Joker's room, he couldn't help but get curious.
He probably shouldn't. Heck, he knew he shouldn't! But when someone told him not to do something...
His eye twitched under the mask.
Just a small peak. He'd be in and out in a second -long before the kid got back- nobody would know.
He'd even stand clear when he opened the door -just in case that was booby-trapped too -but he sincerely doubted the Joker would blow up his own room.
Batman opened the door.
He looked in and could only stare dumbfounded at the sight that met him.[7]
He placed his head in his hand and groaned as he pondered the possible implications.
"I told you you'd regret it," Jester said gleefully as he skipped past Batman with a sympathetic pat on his shoulder.
"I need a drink," Batman said, pinching his nose.
The door slammed open and the Joker staggered in with his back first, trying to juggle an array of shopping bags with the cellphone he was currently speaking into.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a bunch Ed. Your gift is on the way. What? You don't trust me?! I'm hurt! No, seriously, I- Yeah, yeah... I know, I know."
Batman watched with some amusement as the clown tried to stack the bags on the counter with just one hand and failing miserably.
"Jester! A little help?!" he covered the mic to his phone as he yelled for his son to come and help him out.
Considering how small their apartment was, the yelling seemed a bit pointless. Although the kid had the attention span of a gnat, much like his dad, so who knows...
"Look, Eddie, I- Yes, yes! I know you need it for your plan, but..." he sighed and rubbed his forehead as the kid took the bags from his dad and hoisted them onto a counter he could barely even reach.
The Joker kept talking to whoever was on the phone, sounding almost like a normal person. While at the same time he also had his son give him various canned foods and cereal boxes to put into the tall closets in the kitchen-space that the kid couldn't yet reach.
Batman had to take a sip of his coffee to hide a smile.
Spending time with the Joker in his own home was a bizarre experience.
He was so used to only ever seeing the man when he was out causing mayhem and destruction, or when he needed something from him while the man was in Arkham.
In both situations the Joker's full focus was on him, and he presented his every move with both showmanship and cleverness. Every word and movement was thought through and performed to perfection.
To see him interact with his kid... Talk to -whoever it was that was on the phone that managed to make him sound almost exasperated rather than angry-, and to see the Joker going about his life as if he was a normal person... To see the domestic side of him...
It was almost endearing.
That thought, however, had Batman stare at his coffee with suspicion.
But no matter how many times he scanned it, the only thing it came up with was pure, black coffee. The composition was that of one of the most common cheap insta-coffee brands found in just about any convenience stores at that.
No amount of scanning the food and drinks he was served in this house showed anything other than the fact that the Joker seemed to never cook -preferring to order out, and it was usually pizza or junk food delivered by one of his henchmen-, and when he made anything, it was usually something cheap and easy to make. Usually canned food.
Or, if his dad wasn't around, Jester made something. He was suspiciously good at cooking for a nine-year-old. Although that was the least of his worries when it came to the Joker's parenting skills.
The scans and the food shed no light whatsoever on his own elevated heartbeat and the odd feeling in his chest that seemed to happen more and more often around the Joker, and that Batman refused to linger on.
Nor did it explain the small smile that crept onto his face when the Joker spent more effort than usual on making him an omelet shaped like a smiley-face, or when he formed his mash into the shape of a bat before serving it.
Whatever that feeling was, it was not chemically induced.
His heart skipped another beat.
It only took a few more days before Batman wondered if they were somehow drugging him again. Or at least was planning something that was tantamount to some kind of evil conspiracy against him...
The incident happened as he was sitting on the couch, watching what the kid called "the funniest movie EVER!"
He actually expected a homicidal clown -not only because his father was one, but because he had heard Joker complaining about how kids these days didn't appreciate the classics, and would rather see clowns tearing someone's intestines out and tying them like a balloon animal.[8]
Granted, this movie could in no way compare to the classic comedies that the Joker was so fond of, but he had to admit it was hilarious to watch a family of mad killers chases after a victim dressed up in a rabbit costume.[9]
He knew he shouldn't enjoy violence the way he did, but that didn't stop him from doing so. Even if it did make him feel a bit guilty. At least no real people were hurt in the making of the film. So he'd allow himself this small, guilty pleasure.
"So I've been thinking..."
The door to the bathroom suddenly opened, and Batman turned his head to be met with the sight of the Joker, in all his naked glory, stepping out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam to towel himself off in the better ventilated living-room.
The popcorn he was just about to toss into his mouth missed, but his mouth stayed open as he stared at the unabashed clown whom were currently in the middle of a rant about...something...
Batman stopped listening right about the time when the towel left the man's waist, giving him a view of the man's body that burned itself into his brain, whether he wanted it to or not.
The man's body was normally a pale, chalk-white color. But right now it was flushed pink from the heat of the shower, lending an ethereal beauty to his slim form.
Batman suddenly realized just why the Joker managed to outrun him so often, and why the man's punches hit harder than his slim form indicated should be possible.[10] Not to mention why his kicks felt like he'd been hit by a train, on the rare occasion the clown used them.
Without the several layers of clothing that normally hid his body from view, it quickly became apparent to Batman that the Joker was -while still slim- made up of mostly lean, wiry muscles.
His legs were that of a runner; slim, sculpted, and strong.
His chest and arms were sculpted like a Greek statue he had seen in a museum, and the only thing deterring from its handsome appearance was the multitude of scars crisscrossing his body.
Batman felt a strangely possessive emotion rising up in him when he realized some of those scares were-
'Mine'
The Joker was all edges and sharp angles, and rock-solid muscles. There was not an ounce of fat to be found anywhere on his body, nor was there any hair below his eyebrows -most likely the chemicals had burned them all off- ...or he shaved. With the Joker, either was possible.
"...What?" the Joker blinked as he noticed Batman staring.
"...Nothing," Batman said and blushed, moving his head a fraction, pretending he was looking at the bathroom and not the clown.
From the shark-like grin on the man's face, he did notice, and he didn't mind. Not one bit.
Nor did he seem to possesses even an ounce of shame -if the lack of attempts to cover up was any indication.
Then again, Batman realized, the Joker had lived in Arkham ever since he lost his memory of who he was before it. He knew nothing about the world outside of the Asylum until the first time he was let out.
And there was no such thing as privacy in a psych ward. Especially not in Arkham.
In addition to that, he sincerely doubted that the guards would turn their back to the Joker for even a second, even when the man showered. Nor would they leave him alone for it. He was simply too dangerous.
Batman felt a hot, glowing feeling constricting his chest at the thought that someone else saw what he had just seen.
That, however, seemed to be entering dangerous territory, so he refused to examine the feeling any further.
Joker, however, just laughed and acted as if nothing had happened, before he turned around in what Batman could only assume was some kind of courtesy to him.
That is... until he bent over to dry his hair and wrap the towel around his head, and Batman promptly chocked on the coffee that he had just taken another sip of.
Now, Bruce had slept with a lot -a lot- of models in his time... Most of them had some pretty fine asses too.
But not one of them had this well-sculpted ass!
It made sense, if you thought about just how much the Joker actually worked out, and how he was constantly moving around all the time, but it was NOT something Batman had actually give any real thought to.
...until now.
And now that he HAD seen it, he wasn't sure if he could ever stop thinking about it.
Getting around with a wounded leg was not the easiest job, but Batman was starting to feel cooped up and he just had to get out of the house!
...and escape. Of course escaping was his number one priority! Why wouldn't it be?!
And the Joker was currently in the shower -like he seemed to be once every single day, while his kid was watching something he probably shouldn't be allowed to watch until he was 18 in his room, so this was the only chance he would get.
He knew from previous experience that the Joker liked to take his sweet time in the shower. The amount of time that guy devoted to looking and smelling good was beyond ridiculous, and that came from someone who went through the motions to pretend to be a playboy billionaire.
He didn't care for doing it himself, and it absolutely baffled him that anyone else would want to do it either. Although he sometimes wondered why he kept thinking about it this much.
It had absolutely nothing to do with how nice the Joker smelled when he got out of the shower, or the occasional stray thought that made him wonder if the man's hair was as soft as it looked!
The amount of work the Joker put into in looking and smelling good seemed even more ridiculous to him now, seeing as the man had not left the house for more than a few hours at the time to go grocery shopping ever since he brought Batman here.
Unless he was slipping out while Batman was sleeping somehow... Was someone else living on the carnival grounds?
Who was he getting all dolled up for anyway?! There was no one to see him except Batman and his kid, and considering the kid's room looked like a trashcan gone wild, he sincerely doubted the kid would care.
Did he meet someone when he was out? Who was it? Why was it?!
He couldn't afford not knowing! He had to know!
...because the madman might just be plotting something. Yeah... That was it. He was always plotting something. And Batman had to make sure he was there to stop him!
He pushed open the door to yet another dusty container-house. He did not really expect anything more than the layers of dust that had greeted him in the others, but you never knew.
He blinked as he took in the scene before him.
He wasn't sure what exactly he had thought he might find but this was not it!
"W...who are...Batman?!"
The man on the chair went from looking terrified, to looking shocked, and then relieved.
"Thank goodness you're here! Quickly now! Before... He ...comes back!" he said, tugging at the handcuff that locked him to the radiator behind him. His voice indicated the man was a scholar, or at least well-educated.
"Who are you?"Batman stared incredulously at the middle-aged, skinny man.
His somewhat preppy clothes looked crumpled, and his graying, dusty brown hair appeared unwashed, indicating the aged man had been there for a very long time.
There was a camping toilet placed not too far from where the man was sitting, with enough toilet-paper to last him a good, long while, and a TV on a box some distance away, and a remote control on the small table next to the man's chair.
The small fridge standing by him indicated that the Joker was at least not starving him. And the comfy chair and fluffy blanket hanging over it, as well as the bookcase filled with books within his reach told him that the man was not an enemy the Joker was torturing.
...and he had never known the Joker to treat a hostage quite this well...
Honestly... In his tweed jacket and argyle patterned vest he looked more like a college professor than someone who dealt with the criminal underworld. What could the Joker possibly be plotting this time?!
"What nefarious purpose is the Joker keeping you here for?"
"I teach his son. Mostly English and Mathematics. The young boy has a deplorable grasp on the English language, I must say," the man said, placing down his book and pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"...What?!"
"I am not a science teacher, and the kid seems terribly uninterested in learning the Social Sciences," he sniffled, looking thoroughly offended at the fact. "So naturally I cannot teach him those,"
"Are you saying he kidnapped you so you could teach his son grade-school subjects?" Batman blinked in shock.
Was that it?
No nefarious plots that might kill thousands? No big explosions aimed to mock his effort to keep the city safe? No...Mad schemes at all?!
Nothing but a father's wish to educate his son...?
Thankfully the bat-mask hid the baffled expression on his face. It was a nice side-effect of a mask that covered everything but your mouth. And it helped him look composed and intimidating no matter what.
"Yes!" the teacher hissed at him, wondering why he was asking such inane questions when he should be saving him.
"Now please hurry up and get me out of here before that... that...monster... comes back!" his eyes darted around the room, as if the Joker was somehow hiding in a dark corner somewhere.
In all fairness, it was a pretty common reaction from anyone who'd ever met the madman.
Batman rubbed his head as he sat up, then pushed the blanket down on his legs as he took in his situation.
He wasn't sure what the Joker had hit him with, but his head hurt like a bitch. But at least it didn't seem like there was any more damage done to his slowly healing body.
The Joker clearly knew just how hard to hit him to knock him out without doing any real damage to him -it was equally as disconcerting as all the other thing the man knew about him that he really should not have known.
He silently cursed his fractured leg from holding him back from running, and from making him unable to put up too much of a fight, but at least he was slowly getting better.
At least he had managed to buy the poor, old man some time to escape, so there was that. Silver linings and all.
And he wasn't handcuffed to the bed, which was a bit of a surprise to him when he first woke up. But now that he was looking around at the large number of Batman paraphernalia that told him exactly where he was, he realized why.
He really didn't really know what to think anymore...
The Joker was a mystery wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a conundrum.
The clown blew hot and cold all the time. It was like he could never decide whether he hated Batman -or loved him.
Although as he took in the room -was that a freakin' altar?!- he was beginning to lean towards the latter.
...kinda like a stalker, come to think of it.
The slight upturn of his mouth was clearly a grimace of distaste! There was absolutely no way that creepy obsession could possibly make him feel anything but disgust! And it was most certainly not a smile!
Besides, he was still pissed at the clown for kidnapping a school teacher! The fact that the man had done it for the sake of his child did not help one bit!
Nor was the thought of the Joker as any kind of loving father in any way endearing! If anything, it was a horrifying thought! The kind where he should be calling the child-protective services on!
And being surrounded by the evidence that the Joker had an incredibly unhealthy, and possibly romantic, obsession with him was absolutely creepy, and in no way endearing!
And it did not make him smile!
"Do you have any idea how hard it was to find a good teacher for my son?!"
"You kidnapped him, Joker," Batman stated coldly.
"Well, how else were I going to find a teacher for my son?" he paused for effect, "Oh, I see it now!" he outlined the air with his hands in a dramatic fashion, as if showing off the headline in the news.
"Joker seeking teacher for his son. Must be okay with running from the cops and using stolen equipment. Risk payment in case of almost certain death!" the sarcasm flowing from his almost made Batman smile.
It wasn't that what the Joker said was funny, -Well, maybe a little- but it was surprisingly cute how devoted the Joker was to his son.
The man might be a psychotic, homicidal maniac with questionable sanity, but it was clear to him that the Joker truly loved his son.
And wasn't that an epic mindfuck!
Batman had always thought the Joker couldn't love anything, not even himself. And here he was... everything he thought he knew proven wrong.
He shook his head and couldn't help but let out a vague laughing sound.
"Heh."
"EhHehe."
"EhHehehehe," Batman couldn't stop himself, but as he thought about the Joker as a loving father, it was impossible not to laugh.
"What the... Batman! What the hell is wrong with you?!" the Joker sounded almost scared. The look on his face was almost adorable.
"A-hahahahahahahaha," Batman struggled to regain control of himself, but this was just too funny!
"Stop it!"[11] he screeched, his eyes wide and fearful and he slowly backed away, looking as if he wanted to run, but the wall pressed against his back and Batman was blocking the way to the exit.
It was a pitiful sight, and against his better judgment Batman thought he was kinda cute.
His laughter died on his lips.
'Did I just think the Joker is cute?!'
He shook his head. Clearly insanity was contagious.
Still, he couldn't help himself. It wasn't because he thought the Joker was cute. Or that he pitied him. He just... couldn't stand to see anyone in pain! Not even the Joker. At least that's what he told himself.
"I'm...ahrm... not laughing at you. I-" he almost moved to ruffle his hair -covered by his mask- in awkward embarrassment -which would have been an embarrassment in itself- but he stopped his hand halfway there.
This time it was the Joker's turn to let out a nervous giggle that slowly built to a maniacal laugh. An embarrassed Bat was cuter than he could ever have imagined himself!
Batman couldn't help but feel a strange warmth well up in him, and he burst into laughter again.
Insanity was definitely contagious.
It wasn't the first time they'd laughed together, but last time it had been...painful. There was nothing happy about the way they laughed back then. And he suspected that was what the Joker was feeling most of the time when he laughed.
It was a depressive thought, and he couldn't help but wonder what had made the fairly normal man he knew the Joker had once been turned into... Into that![12]
He also couldn't stop the strange desire that welled up in his chest to hear the Joker laugh in a genuinely happy way. And to be the one who made him do it.
Thankfully the Joker regained control of himself and proceeded to talk before Batman could analyze that thought.
"Fine, fine! I'll just have Ed teach the kid. No more kidnapping teachers. Happy now?!" the Joker grumbled, but he couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Although whether that was genuine or just muscle contractions was impossible to tell, except... His eyes said it was real.
"Very happy," Batman agreed with a smile of his own, taking a small sip of his coffee.
He also wondered what it must have cost the Joker to make that concession. Human lives in general were not something the clown cared about, and there were more than enough easy targets for him to kidnap if he was dead set on that course. Him setting the old teacher free changed nothing. And Batman could never free them all, and they both knew it.
He snuck a peek at the Joker and noticed he was still pouting. He was clearly pretending to be more upset over this than he really was. His arms and legs were crossed and his mouth forcefully dragged down in a pout. But there was a twinkle in his eye that said that it was -at least mostly- for show.
Batman hid a small smile behind his dark glove, pretending to be thoughtful himself, although he knew the Joker would see straight through it, just as he saw straight through the Joker's antics.
It was wrong in so many ways, but he couldn't help but think the Joker was cute when he pouted.
"Oh, fine, fine! I'll call Eddie!" the Joker grumbled and picked up a phone from a drawer and hit the number, leaving it on speaker. Possibly to prove to Batman he wasn't lying.
"What belongs to you but is used by others?"
Well... That answered who 'Eddie' was, Batman thought. He wondered if it might not have been better to just let the clown kidnap a teacher. Then again, his father wasn't exactly the paragon of virtue either.
"EDDIE!" he greeted with overwhelming enthusiasm.
"... No."
"C'm on Eddie! Hear me out. I promise you'll love it~!" the Joker singsonged.
"...Fine," the Riddler's voice said, sounding exasperated. Batman was surprised he was indulging the clown. He still remembered the insane war they had fought with each other.
...Over him.
...Because the Riddler was trying to cheer the Joker up. Right.
"Riddle me this! What does one man owe another who has saved his life?" the Joker collapsed in a fit of giggles.
"That is not a proper riddle, and the answer is 'a debt.' What do you want?" Ed let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Ed! Eddie!...I'm hurt! Can't a friend call his friend just to tell riddles and laugh with him?" he placed his hand on his chest and made a sincere face, despite the fact that the Riddler could not see him.
Batman took a small sip at the cheap, terrible coffee the Joker had served him to hide a small smile. When he wasn't actively trying to kill someone, the Joker could be...entertaining.
"What. Do. You. Want?!"
"Well, now that you mention it, there might be a tiny, teansy little thing... Ed... Eddie... Friend... Compatriot..."
"I thought Batman was your friend. Your onlyfriend,"[13] the Riddler said, sounding strangely bitter about that fact. The Joker furrowed his brows and suddenly sounded slightly more serious.
"Come on, Ed... You know you're my friend. Batman... Batman is so much more! You know that!" he wiggled his eyebrows at Batman, who responded with narrowing his glare. But he had to take another sip of coffee to hide a small smile.
"Yes. Yes. You're in love with him, we all know that you..." the Riddler's deadpan voice said, and the Joker -who had up till then been pacing around the room while talking- suddenly lunged for the phone and turned it off speakers and shielded what he said next with his hand as he quickly moved away from the Bat.
That's when Batman realized the Joker had one, glaring disadvantaged from having such pale white skin... When he blushed, even the slightest pink flush would stand out against his skin, making him look like a flustered schoolgirl.
For the umpteenth time that night Batman thought the Joker was cute. Very cute...
He could no longer deny that, not even to himself.
He stopped the hand that moved the coffee to his lips and put it back down, staring at it with suspicion.
Was he drugged? Because there was no way that he would find the Joker cute!
"Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the Dove Corps?"[14]
"You? In a peace-brokering army unit devoted to saving human lives, that also has an incredibly strict no-kill policy?" Batman snorted, "I'll believe it when I see it." he retorted sarcastically.
"I think I still have my button somewhere."
"Probably stole it."
"Hey! No fair! I even invented my very first non-lethal weapon; A Tickling Gun! We rescued all the hostages without a single casualty. The mission was a great success!" he paused, "...until I got bored and killed everyone! Ah-hahahahahaha"
"Now THAT I believe." Batman sighed.
It was such a waste. The man before him was a genius in his own right. A mad genius, but a genius non the less.
He begrudgingly respected the Joker's mind. It would be foolish of him not to. And he did in no way admire it. Absolutely not! The man was despicably through and through!
Still...
He put down his fork and wiped his lips with the napkin. When did dinner with this madman become commonplace enough for him to let his guard down?
He knew he shouldn't ask, but he had to know.
"Why did you kill them? You said it yourself: You saved all those people. You could do so much good if you just let yourself use that brilliance of yours for something other than murder. People would praise you for it instead of hunting you down!"
"I said I got bored!" the Joker slammed his hands on the table, before doing another 180 and started to smile again.
"Besides... I don't care about fame and glory. All I want is to... is to..." he trailed off and suddenly looked almost sad, or perhaps wistful...
"Never mind! You can't listen to the critics! I'm a comedian, and the show must go on. I'll bring a smile to their faces yet, Batsy. Just you wait and see!"
And there it was again. That eerie glow in his eyes. The anxious attention to Batman's reaction to his act. That...hint.. that he was putting on the show. Just for him.
Batman shook his head. That thought was just ridiculous. He couldn't let the madman mess with his mind like this!
So why then, did his heart flutter...just a little. Why did he feel...flattered. It was sick and twisted, and horribly wrong on so many levels!
He cleared his throat. He still had hope that maybe, just maybe he could convince him to stop killing. No matter what it would take!
And if he had to play to the man's game of some kind of bizarre romance...so be it! It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for everyone in Gotham's sake.
And it was in no way because he felt drawn to the man! The mystery. The genius. And by no means was any of his cruel jokes funny!
His lip twitched slightly as he remembered the night they laughed together in the rain. It was more sad than funny, but somehow it felt...right.
Batman stared at the Joker, wondering if he had somehow inhaled some of Poison Ivy's hallucinogenic spores.
"What?" Joker looked up from the shirt he was sewing on.
"Nothing," Batman quickly replied, quickly turning back to the news flashing across the television screen.
"You have that look again!"
"What look?"
"The same look you had when I was polishing my shoes. And when I helped Jester with that art project Eddie claimed was normal for school kids his age. The same look you had when I made you those bat-shaped pancakes and decorated them with chocolate syrup," he proclaimed, still looking at Batman as if he was some kind of undecipherable riddle.
"I'm just surprised. I never expected... Well..." he gestured vaguely at the Joker's sewing kit.
"When you're a wanted criminal hated by nearly every law-abiding citizen and most of the non-law-abiding ones as well, you'd be surprised how hard it is to find a tailor," Joker said with a shrug.[15]
"Whatever you say... dear," Batman smirked at his own housewife joke, "Should I get you an apron for your birthday too?" his lips twitched slightly in a suppressed grin at the mocking joke.
"Hey! I resent that!" Joker said as his hand flew to his chest in mock outrage, "I expect nothing short of Lingerie from Victoria's Secret! The expensive, laced black and purple set!"
Batman choked on his coffee and flushed a bright red at that.
He wanted to claim it was so ridiculous he couldn't help but laugh, but the reality was that he couldn't stop himself from visualizing it, and it did things to his body that he was not comfortable admitting to.
If he had been an anime figure, he'd surely have a nosebleed.
"Something wrong... darling~" Joker purred as he watched Batman grab a napkin to wipe the spilled coffee off his suit.
"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Batman was quick to reply, refusing to acknowledge how that word, and the Joker's voice send the blood rushing straight south.
Joker merely smiled and chuckled, as he snipped off the thread to the fabric he was sewing and put it aside.
By the time Batman felt able to sneak another glance at him, he felt himself flush for a whole other reason.
He knew that fabric! That was his cloak! The very cloak that had been peppered with holes during his last fight, and the Joker was mending it! Like a freaking housewife!
And yet, for all the psychedelic insanity of the homely scene, Batman could not stop his lips from tugging into a small smile as he watched the Joker mend his cloak, while humming what sounded like the old, nostalgic song 'Lilly Marlene'.[16]
He moved his eyes over to the nearly ten-year-old kid on the floor, and noticed he was playing with his own set of Batman and Robin action figures on the floor, driving an open-aired version of the Batmobil with them in it.
And for a split second he couldn't help but envision this homely scene in his own large, and often empty-feeling, mansion.
And not for the first time that week he wondered if they were somehow secretly drugging him. Because that warm, constrictive feeling in his chest could not possibly be anything else.
"...but I bet a big, strong bat like you wouldn't have had a problem with lifting that!" the Joker fluttered his lashes at Batman and he ran a single finger down his armored chest.
Batman's mind couldn't help but drift back to what he had seen earlier, to the Joker's room, as well as everything else he had seen while being trapped here...
All that flirting, Joker really was serious, wasn't he?
Batman looked down on the heart-shaped pancake with bat-ears on his plate, and he couldn't help but think about the fact that actions really do speak louder than words. Although the Joker never really hid the fact when he did use his words, except to say over and over again how much he hated him.
But he knew from his long experience with the Joker that the clown did not see any difference between love and hate. Which in itself made him wonder if the words of hate were in reality a declaration of love...
It should have creeped him out. It should have...
But instead it made him feel...flattered.
And for all the clown's flirting and occasionally inappropriate touching, he'd never so much as kissed him -much less tried anything less savory. Unless you count causing mayhem and destruction just to get his attention.
It was surprisingly... considerate.
Especially when he knew for a fact that the Joker did not give a damn who he hurt, or how bad he hurt them, and the madman often seemed to revel in making everyone around him uncomfortable.
"Batsy... are you... are you smiling?!" the Joker looked at the tiny smile gracing Batman's lips paired the almost found expression in his eyes, and almost fell off the chair as he pushed it back.
Batman just kept smiling, wondering if the Joker had always been this...cute.
"STOP IT! IT'S CREEPY!" the Joker screeched and backed away from Batman as Batman got off the chair, chuckling a little.
The Joker kept backing away until his back hit the wall, at which point Batman placed on hand on each side of his head and leaned down to do something that was probably the worst mistake he ever would make, but right now, it felt like the only right thing to do.
"What the hell is up with you? Is your Bat-senses messing with your head? Have you been mind-controlled? What is-"
"Joker. Shut up,"
He leaned in and kissed him.
OPTIONAL END:
Batman shook his head. He was letting the clown get to him. He should have known it was a bad idea to spend too much time around a master manipulator like him!
Focus! He had to focus! Don't let him in. Don't let him mess with your head!
And that was why Batman did what he would later call the dumbest mistake he'd ever made.
He kissed him.
Maybe to shut him up. Maybe in the hopes that if he moved their relationship -if one could call it that- into the physical realm, his realm, then the madman couldn't mess with his brain anymore.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the sad, melancholic smile on the clown's face made him look so much more human, and allowed Bruce to notice just how damned good-looking he was!
But whatever the reason was, he kissed him.
And that... That changed everything!
Small note: As you may have noticed, Batman sometimes -usually- talks in Fat writing, but not always. I am using that to simulate his overly deep, serious Batman voice.
But as you may realize that's not exactly something he can keep up 24/7. So when he forgets himself, he ends up sounding more like his normal Bruce Wayne voice -or perhaps a mix. He's just being himself, rather than trying too hard to play a role, something he rarely is.
(For all that Batman IS who he is. Batman is also denying so much of himself that it's difficult to consider Batman as 'himself', even if he is less of a mask than Bruce Wayne is.)
[1]So far I know of exactly two shrinks that the Joker has had...and he drove both of them to homicidal insanity. (Read Killer Smile, and Harleen and/or Mad Love)
He also tend to inspire other inmates/patients to commit various tasks and/or crimes for any number of reasons he needs them for. Although, to be fair, half those reasons are for fun. The other half is for Batman.
[2]Moi = Pronounced Mouwah (or so), french for 'me'.
[3]Batman did this in Batman: Europe, when the Joker was shooting at him. So yes... His cape IS bulletproof. Although I doubt it can handle TOO much strain... I really need to look into what such fabrics as Biosilk and Nano-tube fabrics can handle.
[4]I am also going by my knowledge of what the limits of BioSilk is -much as I know- for how sturdy whatever fabric Batman is using is. He can't possibly wear TOO much armor, as it hinders movement, and we know that both knives, dogs, acid and blades HAS cut through his arm before, but half the time he's also told Alfred to remind him to fix that exact problem. So I figured, by now, he's probably discovered BioSilk.
[5]Batman may or may not know WHY he feels relieved, but the Joker HAS saved him several times in the comic books, and even when he has Batman at his complete mercy, he never actually kills him. In addition, in The Batman Who Laughs, the Joker even promised to kill Batman if he ever turned into the Monster he feared he might, plus, in a few different places, the Joker ACTUALLY STOPPED Batman from killing someone -thus Batman did not break his One Rule. Thanks to the Joker and the Joker alone.
Put it all together and you get Batman feeling -at least subconsciously- somewhat safe around the Joker. (Note that I say SOMEWHAT. He most certantly feels extremely UNsafe as well. The Joker may not KILL him, but he WILL hurt him. That's their dynamic.)
[6]Joker Killed Jason -the second Robin- in Death IN the Family. (Not to be confused with Death OF the Family) I may have already explained this.
[7]Joker's room, as I described earlier in the fic, is practically a shrine or temple to all thing Batman.
[8]The Clown movie is a reference to 'Stitches.'
[9]The homicidal family movie is a reference to 'House of a 1000 Corpses', and yes I count it as a comedy, NOT horror! Watch it and you'll see.
[11]The Joker's re-occurring nightmare actually IS about Batman laughing at him.
[12]We know little to nothing factual about Jack Napier -the person the Joker used to be- aside from his name, and that he was married to a pregnant wife. But everything points to him being fairly normal before his One Bad Day.
[13]Everything indicates that the Riddler views himself as the Joker's best friend -or at least A friend. And a close one at that. Mind you, unless you are equally as insane as those two (or me), you may have some trouble wrapping your head around this type of friendship. But if you read 'A War of Jokes and Riddles', it is clear as day.
However, Joker always refers to Batman as 'his ONLY friend' (and himself as Batman's ONLY friend, or only REAL friend perhaps), which I have no doubt irritates the Riddler. Even IF he seem to actually understand and accept that the Joker doesn't show his feelings asa openly, and he often denies caring for anyone or anything.
(Something we KNOW is wrong. Several times he's shown sympathy for certain people, like the kid in birthday bugs, Harley in Harleen, and while admittingly not stating he gives a damn about animals, per say, he DO refuse to harm the superheroes turned into animals in Superman: Emperor Joker, because, as he says "It's not funny to hurt animals.
He's also an american patriot that LOATHS Nazi's. Fun fact. lol)
[14]Not kidding; He actually WAS in the Dove Corpse once. While I am not sure where the origional story is from, you can read this one in the 'The Joker: 80th Aniversery' comic. (Along with quite a few other, really good stories. Such as a nice look into Punchline's big 'Comming Out' comic.)
[15]As we can clearly see in the Telltale game series (Telltale: Enemy Within) Joker is actually VERY skilled at sewing. First of all, there is the fact that he sews several fairly good -if basic- dolls of Bruce and Batman.
Then there is the fact that -if you end up with the Vigilante version-, Joker's clothes are clearly adjusted from things he has -most likely- found in various thrift-stores. (They are CLEARLY sewn together from a multitude of clothing items, and crafted into something you just can't find in any store. The stitching is a dead giveaway.)
In addition, the Joker is incredibly creative and artistic. And while that is more obvious than usual in the Telltale game series, it's obvious in just about anything the Joker makes anywhere ever. He decorates every single things he owns, and adds his own twist to it.
That said, I also strongly suspect he'd be hard-pressed to find a tailor capable of making his highly unusual clothing items. And even if he had bought them off the shelf (or stolen them, rather) his clothes always fit him perfectly. And as he is VERY tall, and VERY thin, it would be incredibly difficult -if not impossible- to find that kind of clothes just off the shelf. They HAVE to be tailored.
He most likely spends more than a little of his time fixing his clothes after battles too, as well as polishing his shoes to keep them waterproof and so on and so forth.
Yes, Harley COULD be the one to do it -she DOES have dreams of being a housewife-, but she's simply not THERE all the time. Half the time she's in Arkham, the Joker seem to forget she even exists. I have only seen him break her out of Arkham TWICE -and that's including in Suicide Squad.
Plus, he often shows up alone in the various comic books, indicating that Harley is nowhere to be found in those cases. (Either locked up, or run off to Ivy, or Joker broke up with her... We don't know. But she's not there.)
[16]Lily Marlene is a famous song from around the era of the second world war, and it is the song that the Joker has changed the lyrics to a bit that he sings in Batman: Europe.
(We also know that the Joker is VERY old-fashioned in his tastes. He likes Jazz in the Arkham games, he likes TV and radio shows from the 40s in Going Sane, he loves comedies and comedians from the 20s, 30s, and 40s according to Batman in the same comic.)
Personally I have a theory that the Joker is, in all actuality, a very PROPER Gentleman of the 40s. Everything, including his clothes, indicates that.