Shattered Identities
Chapter 2
The Spark of Fascination
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The night of the attack Bruce hobbled his way into the bat suit. He couldn't let the leads at the crime scene get away from him. The first stop after watching his own surveillance for the bullet's trajectory was the rooftop the assassin used. Not feeling like scaling buildings tonight, not that his body would be up to it even if he did, he simply parked in an alley close to the building, slower than usual he slipped through the night, grappling to the roof. Bruce grunted in pain as he made it to the top, scouring the area for clues, but there was nothing there. No clues, residue, boot prints, nothing. Dusting the area he didn't even find prints. Growling he painfully made his way back to his batmobile, after a short moment he decided that maybe he should check on the Joker's condition. He was glad he did. It wasn't hard to find the operating room the Joker was held in. The horded press outside some closed doors easily gave away the hall, it was simple matter of finding the right room. Which didn't turn out that hard. A doctor was relaxing against the wall near one of the doors. His hands covered in blood a cigarette between his lips. Batman silently stalked towards him crushing the cigarette in his gloved palm before the man even noticed he was there.
"You're not supposed to smoke in here." He said gruffly, the doctor shrunk back from him raising his hands in surrender, pressing himself back against the wall.
"What's going on in there? Why are you out here?" Batman asked getting into the man's personal space.
"Nothing." The man exhaled before shaking his head pulling himself out of his shocked stupor, "Nothing is happening! Tha-that's the problem. The head surgeon won't let me stabilize him."
"The Joker?" The man nodded his head his eyes still the size of saucers.
"Why?" Batman added when the man didn't say anything more.
"I don't know, man. Maybe because it's the fucking Joker. It still doesn't feel right though. I have no idea how the bastard is still alive, but he is. I stopped the major bleeding but there's still internal bleeding, he still has a collapsed lung. He needs surgery but..." Batman leaned over, peering into the room, nurses sat around looking nervous like they weren't quite sure what they should be doing anymore. While another doctor leaned casually against a counter glaring at The Joker's blood soaked body. Scowling Bruce grabbed the man's arm and kicked the door open, it slammed against the wall dramatically and every one in the room jumped, heads jerking towards them.
"Do your job." He growled out maneuvering the doctor into the room and he scrambled towards The Joker, shouting orders at the shocked assistants.
"What the fuck! What do you think, Jorden stop! Felicia!" The other doctor shouted as the nurses ignored him. He turned his attention to Batman like he was going to reprimand him, but stopped short, suddenly unsure of himself as Bruce's built body stalked towards him.
"What is going on here?" Batman growled fixing his piercing gaze on the doctor. The doctor pressed himself back against the counter leaning as far away from the cowled man as he could.
"Look Batman. It's just business okay? No one would care if this guy died, but it's a pretty big bonus for the hospital if he does." Bruce's eyes narrowed.
"How much?"
"A hundred thousand."
"From who?"
"I don't know! Okay! I just got some cryptic message and half the money up front before I even realized what was happening."
"When did you get the money?"
"Sometime around eight."
"Yesterday night?"
"Well technically yes. Last night, whatever, like seven hours ago."
"What account did they transfer it to."
"Look Batman. It's a lot of money okay, just let the psycho die. It'll save more lives in the long run." The doctor pleaded with him, a look on his face like Bruce was insane.
"Which bank account?"
"The hospital's donation funds." The man said a little too quickly. Batman fisted his shirt lifting him a few inches off the ground. The man gripped his gloved hands fearfully.
"My... personal funds." He gasped out, Batman scowled, cocked his fist back ready to slam it into the man's face when suddenly the Joker flat lined. The high pitched tone making him falter. He turned around and the other doctor was staring panic stricken towards the two.
"I, I can't do this by myself." He stuttered blood splattered across his face now. The Vigilante frowned turning back to the man in his grasp.
"Fix him and I'll double it." Bruce decided, he didn't have time to convince the man.
"I don't think – ." Batman pushed him harshly towards the operating table as blood gurgled out of the Joker's lips, his body seizing on the table. The man stumbled quickly flipping around keeping Bruce in his sights. The vigilante's leg gave a painful throb.
"If you don't, I'll strip you of your Job, and beat the shit out of you."
"What if they strip me of my life?" Bruce glared at the man. They probably would if they got the chance.
"They wont."
"How do you know?!"
"Because I'll find them. Do your job. Two hundred thousand." The doctor stood for a second before nodding, looking skeptical, but he finally turned to help his colleague, at the other doctors pleading. Batman stuck around watching them stabilize and patch up the Joker's insides. His leg protested painfully against the constant standing. Once the Joker was stable and he had both doctors word the Clown would remain that way, he left the building. Contacting Barbara immediately he had her trace the money trail in the man's account, and hack the hospital cameras to put an alarm on the Joker's vital signs. The money trail lead back to a small Chinese restaurant in downtown Gotham. Bruce thanked Barbara and her abilities. Planning on paying the restaurant a visit when his leg wasn't quite protesting as violently as it currently was.
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Bruce had a vague knowledge of what the morning news would be the day after his party. Vales always covered The Joker's attacks, sometimes even while they were happening. He knew it may play him as the bad guy, as him aiding The Joker, simply because he saved the dying man. He hadn't prepared himself, however, for the image on the front cover of the Gotham Gazette. His leg was killing him, it happened when you had to cut out a bullet. He had stiffly made his way down to breakfast, Alfred making his favorite to help his already sour mood. Alfred had hesitated on giving him the newspaper, urging him to eat first. The stubborn vigilante refused however, demanding the article regardless of his father figure's insistence. Alfred had thrown the paper down in front of him with an irritated sigh, still looking a little under the weather, and in no mood to keep up the argument. Bruce froze taking in the cover. There in black and white he knelt kissing The Joker as chaos reigned around them, one hand under the man's head tilting it backwards. He was opening his airway, but the camera didn't care about that, the angle almost intentionally making it hard to tell what he was actually doing. Bruce's lips tightened as he took it in. Needless to say, he pushed his breakfast away from him, nausea taking hold, realizing just how bad this entire situation had panned out to be. If Alfred didn't have his hands pressed against The Joker's chest looking serious and sickly pale, there would have been no argument, it would have been impossible to convince the city he wasn't making out with the dying villain. Thanks to Alfred it was still salvageable, maybe.
In bold letters by the image it said 'more on page twelve.' Reluctantly he turned the pages, the next picture they had plastered on the newspaper was entirely morbid and Bruce worried it would ruin his careless playboy image completely. It also did nothing to hold up the story he was going to feed the city when they screamed for his blood. This one was of his profile, still kneeling beside The Joker. Bruce was sure the paramedics were rushing in but they were cut from the scene. It was just Bruce and The Joker. Yes, Alfred's hands were still covering the clown's wound beside him, but he wasn't in the shot, covered by Bruce's broad shoulders. The vigilante was staring ahead, probably at the EMTs, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, lips tight, determined. His face was covered in blood, he was covered in blood, his shirt, jacket, hands. It trailed down his chin, trickled along his neck. It almost looked like he had bathed in it, lapped it up and smeared it around, just for fun. It was creepy, disturbing, insane, and he covered the picture almost immediately. Trying to scrub the sight from his mind. Instead he ignored the images going on to read the article. Which was titled 'Billionaire Playboy or Billionaire Clown Toy? The Joker strikes again!'
Last night the city of Gotham was harrowed by the Clown Prince of Crime! You heard right. The madman that escaped about a month ago finally made his debut at Bruce Wayne's Christmas Extravaganza. Which I must mention wasn't quite up to par for the playboy's usual bashes. Eyewitness reports say The Joker and his crew crept in with the crowd, fooling all of the security protocols Bruce Wayne normally has in place. Some find it rather hard to believe that the man simply was slacking on his security, since normally the party goers complain about how long it takes to get to the actual party! With the purse searches and random pat downs it's hard to believe that these criminals simply slipped past security. Which leads some to question how the Clown actually made it in. Did Bruce himself have something to do with this? Is there something going on here that the City of Gotham doesn't know about? Fear not readers I will get to the bottom of this! After a great unveiling, my eyewitnesses tell me that The Joker spent an inordinate amount of time speaking with the billionaire. One, who claims to have been closest to the actual interaction says that our favorite socialite was even exchanging playful banter with the mad man! And he was getting away with it! Not only that, but the our resident Clown killed one of his own henchman when the poor minion decided to punish Bruce out of turn. Poor henchman! Maybe not so much. He was a criminal after all. Which leads me to why the City of Gotham has been so outraged this morning, and they have a right to! The Joker, madman and mass murderer, was shot by a long range weapon during his takeover at Wayne's party! Who shot the Clown and why is still under investigation, and the police have divulged no information at this time, but unlike the rest of the world who ran for their lives, witnesses say Bruce Wayne stayed to save The Joker. You read that right my dear people, Bruce Wayne saved the Joker! Bruce allegedly gave the Clown CPR (Page 1), but it doesn't quite look like simple CPR now does it? And why would the Billionaire even want to save The Joker?! What drove him to save this madman? Is there something between them we aren't aware of? With that expression it's hard to tell. (Page 12) Don't worry or fret Gothamites! I, Vicki Vale will get to the bottom of these chilling events and we will count it a blessing that the only people gravely injured during the potentially catastrophic events where the Clown's henchman, Dillan Hollands, and the Prince of Crime himself. Although dozens were injured this has seemed to be one of the lowest casualty attacks the Clown has ever pulled. Rest easy Gotham he is back behind bars, or a padded cell, as the case may be and hopefully won't be out for quite awhile, if ever. Let's cross our fingers and give Arkham Asylum some funding to keep that madman locked away! For more information on how to donate turn to page 22.
Bruce scowled, the obvious hints at him and The Joker being in cohorts with each other made him even more nauseous and he left the table, despite Alfred's adamant protests that he needed his strength. Bruce knew Vale would want an interview and he was definitely going to give it to her, he needed to clean this mess up before it got out of hand, and a few hours later he wasn't let down. She did call him, barely twelve hours after the incident, which he was expecting, ever the journalistic bloodhound. Unfortunately all the news stations seemed to be airing was the attack from last night, he instantly consented to the interview and she sped over in record time. Bruce let Alfred answer the door, he didn't want the press getting wind of his injury. The last thing he needed was for this story be turned into two lovers being romantically shot with the same bullet, or some bullshit.
Vicki Vale appeared in the doorway exchanging pleasantries with Alfred, recorder in pocket, he watched her press the button subtly as she entered the room.
"Vicki. It's been awhile since you've beaten at my door." Bruce said playfully. Watching her sway her hips for him as she moved farther into the room. He gave her what she wanted, giving her an appreciative once over.
"It didn't take much of a beating." She countered taking a seat in the armchair next to him, making sure he could see plenty of leg.
"Well, I would be lying if I didn't say the article you wrote was a... tad bit disturbing. I realize what I did wasn't quite..." Bruce trailed off skillfully, breaking eye contact. Vale touched his hand comfortingly.
"I'm sorry Bruce. I had to play the story that everyone wanted to hear. Now that that's over I can actually tell them what happened. Which is why I'm here." Bruce played slightly hurt letting his playboy pout take center stage.
"Alright. I get it, but really? I mean... No, I saw the picture, I get it."
"It did look pretty bad, probably just a really good photographer right? So tell me. What really happened?" She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back giving her a shy thankful smile.
"I, this entire party was not." He huffed, "I had to plan it. You can imagine how that went." Bruce said with a little laugh and Vicky gave him a smile.
"I bet." She said shaking her head in disbelief.
"Everything was going wrong, I mean Alfred normally takes care of everything, and I mean everything. Down to my tie and socks." Bruce admitted with a flippant wave of his hand.
"Yeah I noticed, I saw the pictures of you and your date." Vale nodded again and this time Bruce joined her matching her smile.
"Yeah. It was a train wreck from the start. I didn't realize that the head of security had come down with the flu. That the man he called in to take his place wasn't, well, wasn't who he was supposed to be."
"Really?" Vale asked in genuine fascination, leaning forward, he could see the sparks ignite in her eyes, already making a list of things she would track down once she left his home.
"I believe that's how he got in."
"The Joker."
"Yes, The Joker."
"Let's talk about that. You and The Joker."
"There is no me and the Joker." Vale gave him a look.
"Come on Bruce. You don't just flirt with the Joker and live to talk about it. I didn't specify what you said so I could get your side of the story, but I do know what happened." For once Bruce was actually thankful, but he supposed that could count as he way of paying him back for all the times he saved her ass.
"Isn't it obvious? I didn't want to die."
"You called him back."
"You didn't mention that in the article."
"And I should have?"
"I saved that man's life."
"Did you?" Bruce rolled his eyes leaning back in his chair, careful not to jar his leg.
"This is starting to feel like a shrink session." He complained resting his head on his forefinger and thumb.
"Do you see a lot of shrinks?"
"No. Vale let's stay on topic."
"The topic is you and the Joker." Bruce tilted his head back in exaggerated annoyance.
"Fine. I did flirt. If stuttering what he wanted to hear, and then not getting shot because the crazy son of a bitch actually like it can be considered flirting."
"I don't think, what was it... 'Is our play date over already?' is considered stuttering, Bruce." It dawned
"I, I did, but, I couldn't just sit there and watch that man get hurt. It was my party. I was the reason he was there. The Joker hadn't killed me yet, I figured I had a better shot." Bruce finished lamely, "Your right, it wasn't the smartest move. But nothing I did that night was really."
"So you saved that man." She asked skeptically.
"Yes."
"Risking your own life."
"Yes." Vale leaned closer with a wondering look on her face.
"Why?" She stated and that was the burning question.
"Because it, I... I didn't want..." He tried keeping his gaze on the table, breaking off mystically, and Vale looked entirely confused. Good. He tapped his fingers nervously against the armrest for effect.
"Bruce you can tell me." Bruce held back a scoff at that as she rubbed his muscled back. Yeah tell a reporter everything. He licked his lips giving her a tight smile.
"I," He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, "I didn't want to see anyone else die in front of me. Not again. Not like..." He trailed off as understanding dawned on Vicki's face. His inner Batman smirked.
"Like your parents." She said with pity.
"I can't handle that again Vicki. I... didn't handle it very well in the first place." Bruce tried to joke and Vale gave him a tight smile.
"So when the Joker – ."
"I couldn't sit there and watch. I couldn't let that happen. Couldn't see that. Regardless of who it was. I guess... I wasn't thinking straight but I – ."
"It's okay. I get it. Wow. I was really hoping you two had something going." Bruce fixed her with a legit glare.
"No and no thank you. I have a large selection of partners and you think I'd choose The Joker."
"It was more a vague hope."
"Well no, besides it would have to be some man to make me swing that way."
"So you're not against that idea?"
"Vicki." Bruce warned.
"Only joking." She said holding her hands up in surrender.
"How are you coping?" She asked after a small moment of silence. Bruce shifted in his seat.
"Alfred's helping, just like last time, those pictures though, they didn't help much." He told her with a sly sideways glance.
"Sorry." Vale said sheepishly and Bruce reached over tucking one of her strawberry strands behind her ear.
"You should be." He smirked in a way he knew brought women to their knees, it didn't stop her from pressing him for details of the entire night's events, but it helped.
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Vale ran with the angle of a poor terror stricken orphan Bruce Wayne still haunted by the tragedy of his childhood and Bruce thought it was over with, that the press would die out, and it technically did, little tidbits popping up every now and then over the next week. The Joker had spent the first week in intensive care. It was hard to recover from a collapsed lung even for The Joker. The madman was a fighter though, and while Bruce had made no effort to check on The Joker's condition, Batman had kept him under surveillance. It was barely a few days since the clown had been stabilized, a day since he had gained consciousness, and according to Vicki Vale the subject wasn't dead, because she published a new article, a new interview. Apparently the clown had plenty of energy to grant her an audience. It wasn't hard for Batman to get the her recordings, wasn't hard for him to hack into the surveillance system. If what the papers said were disturbing, what the tapes held were worse. They held the fascination.
Vicki Vale was seated across from the Joker, who was slumped over in a metal chair looking pale and tired. One hand rested upon the metal table between them, his hands cuffed to table, which was bolted into the floor. His fingers twitched almost as if he wanted to tap them against the solid surface but couldn't quite dredge up the energy. His other hand rested against his abdomen a few inches under the spot Bruce knew his wound was located. Vale's back was to the camera her posture rigid.
"So Joker how are you feeling? And thank you for granting me this interview." Vales voice said steadily, professionally. The Joker finally looked up from the table fixing her with an unblinking stare, a small smirk light up his face.
"I'd never turn away good publicity sugar. And I'm feeling fantastic! Nothing like having a bullet through your chest. I'll have to show you some time." He said miserably scratching at his clothing just beneath the wound.
"Really? The scar?! That would be great! Could I get a few pictures?" Vale asked excitedly and The Joker raised an eyebrow, slowly licking his lips.
"No, Darling. A bullet through your chest. A birthday present. Maybe. Whens your birthday, Cupcake?" He grumbled out fixing the woman with an amused stare.
"I, Umm, ha, thats funny." She laughed her voice shaken.
"Only if I were joking." The Clown smirked gazing at her through half lidded eyes.
"R-right, let's g-get back to topic." Vale's voice shook with unease, her head nodding, more to confirm it with herself then to the man across from her.
"So tell me why Bruce Wayne? There was a party just last week held by the Mayor. Why not crash his ball?" The Joker's lips pulled into a grin.
"Really? The Mayor? Have you seen that whale? No, no, no, no no. I was looking for a change of scenery! It was a beautiful one at that." The Joker replied with almost as much zeal as he usually spoke with.
"So. You," Vale laughed nervously again shaking her head, "I, I don't understand. You choose the Bruce Wayne party because?" Joker inhaled loudly through his nose, pursing his lips before exhaling, annoyed.
"I was bored buttercup." The Joker stated flatly, obviously tired of the line of questions, or maybe just tired in general.
"Right. Okay so, do you know who shot you? Any Ideas?"
"I could hazard a few guesses."
"Really?" Vale said enthusiastically leaning forward a bit, "Who do you suspect?" The Joker let out a few quiet chuckles.
"All of Gotham of course. Come on! I'm surprised it's only happened once! Well succeeded anyway." The Joker trailed off darkly. Joker shifted uncomfortably, a little grimace making its way onto his scarred features for a split second.
"Are you sure – ."
"Don't finish that sentence sweetheart. I'm not in the mood." Vale snapped her jaws shut with an audible click. Taking a few seconds to regain her bearings.
"Okay, what, um, what do you remember after being shot? Were you scared?" Joker rolled his eyes, it was obvious he couldn't think this woman was any more dumb. Bruce knew that if the Joker was free right now he would have already murdered her.
"Scared? Really? No, don't be ridiculous! It did hurt like a bitch though! I was definitely surprised! Now that doesn't happen every day. I remember starry blue eyes and some strong arms." The Clown said dreamily.
"Then I was choking on my own blood!" The Joker broke into a fit of laughter, which quickly died out with a pained gasp, and an angry growl.
"Right." Vale said quietly barely heard in the quiet of the room.
"Bruce caught you. Is that who you're talking about?"
"What? Oh yes, Brucey Babe. I remember him." The Joker trailed off getting a far away look on his makeup free face.
"I have some pictures. I was thinking you might want to look at them."
"Do you now?" He leaned forward with a grin. "I love show and tell. So do show, and do tell." Vale leaned away from him with another nervous laugh.
"Of course, let me, uh. Here." Vale shuffled around in her purse pulling out some printed pictures. She handed a few to the Joker who swiped them from her hand impatiently. He flipped through them quickly.
"Boring. I see myself covered in blood quite often sunshine. Try again." He scowled throwing them onto the table so they slid into the redhead's lap.
"I have a few of – ." Vale was saying, already halfway to handing The Joker a new group of pictures.
"Oh ho ho! Please tell me they're of that muscled man! Yeah? Now we're talking!" There was a screech of metal as he slid his cuffed wrist across the table. "Give em' here sweetheart." He bumped his chest against the table and hissed in pain recoiling back into his seat, one hand placed tenderly over his injury, he tilted his head up a bit to glare at her through darkened eyes.
"Don't make me come over there." He threatened with a small smirk, papers slid over the metal table as Vale tossed him the pictures unwilling to get into his space in anyway.
"Oh yes! Would you look at that! Never knew the playboy could look quite so dashing in red. Is that mine?" The Joker asked cocking his head to the side he fixed Value with a speculative look.
"I'm sorry?" Vale asked confused and the Joker rolled his eyes.
"The blood, Sugar Plum."
"Oh, I, yes, yes I believe it is, Bruce wasn't vitally injured from what I know." The Joker kept his head cocked, raised an eyebrow, and Vale shifted unsteadily under his unblinking gaze. Slowly he shifted his eyes back to the image pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes.
"Is... something wrong?" Vale asked after about half a minute of The Joker's silence. The madman just shook his head softly.
"No." Joker replied quietly in a knowing tone, a little smile tugging his lips. "Nothing at all." Vale didn't seem to be buying it and leaned forward to get a better view of the picture he was looking at.
"Was he injured? I interviewed him he looked fine. Is there something you can tell me? Did you hurt him?" The Joker chuckled a few times, cutting it off again with an irritated look, his hand holding his chest. He looked over at the woman running his tongue over his bottom lip.
"Anything? To tell you?" He smiled, "Nope, not here. I have nothing of, Immm-port for you. Him though." He turned his attention back to the picture with a look of fascination. "So that is mine?" Joker exhaled in awe. "So he what? Star – ." The Joker started as he shuffled through the pictures stopping on one suddenly, "Oh, oh he did." He said with a satisfied smirk. Vale shifted uncomfortably again.
"I'm sorry?" Vale said not quite following.
"He actually did it."
"Did what?"
"Saved me." The Joker tried to laugh again. "He actually saved me. You must have had a riot with that one."
"It was a good story yes. So what do you think of Bruce Wayne. The people of Gotham found it interesting you didn't kill him."
"Why would I?" The Joker asked genuinely confused.
"Well you. Normally, that's what you do, you, kill people. When, you, you know, when they speak, or move wrong." She trailed off quietly unsure of herself.
"Then isn't it obvious? That man was a riot! You should have seen him! Barely blinked twice really." The Joker trailed off going back to admiring the picture.
"So, is there anything you'd like to say to Bruce? You'd want him to know? Maybe thank him?" Vale asked after a few more moments of silence, only broken by the soft shuffle of paper as the Joker leafed through the pictures.
"Nothing that I can't say to his face." The Joker whispered absently, taking in every detail of every shot before moving to the next.
"I'm sure that will be quite awhile. You're going back to Arkham. Do you plan on escaping again?" Joker Scoffed.
"What do you think Blossom?" The Joker asked dryly leaning back against the metal armrest of his chair, still looking through the pictures. "And he will be my first stop! Our play date was cut short you see and we were having such fun!" He kicked one leg up over the other arm rest, leaving his other straightened out, keeping pressure off his wound, he unveiled another photo.
"Oh? Oh." The Joker exhaled faintly. "This one is perfect." He threw the rest of the pictures onto the table. "Look. Just look at him. Look. At. Him!" He held the picture out so Vale could see it.
"I, uh, I can see him. He is, um, definitely, covered in blood." She finished with a tight smile that was more of a grimace. Bruce tried to zoom in, but the video from the surveillance camera was too blurry to make out the picture.
"If only his eyes were open. Or it was a front view! Oh if he were shirtless!" The Joker spouted admiring the picture again.
"Are you... I mean, do you prefer, um, men, I suppose?" Vale asked the fear evident in her voice, showing she realized just how edgy her question was, and remembered just who she was talking to. Joker fixed Vale with a disbelieving look. Like she was the crazy one.
"Why miss Vale! Men, women, hermaphrodites, trans gender. Sweetheart does it really matter? I mean REALLY matter? They all die the same way! With a smile on their faces!" The Joker cackled again, he took a sharp inhale of breath, this time slamming his hand against the table angrily, holding a hand against his chest in pain.
"This is really annoying." He muttered to himself scowling at the picture for all of two seconds before his face slipped to a relaxed position again as he stared at the photo.
"I um," It was obvious this interview was getting to Vale as she didn't ask anything else, let alone she really wasn't getting much from the madman except that he might think Bruce was hot. Silence took hold of the room as the Joker continued to stare at the picture. His lips parted as he trailed a finger down the side of the photo. Then those fingers trailed along his bottom lip. Vale was searching for something in her purse, and a second later she pulled out a phone. Quietly she flipped it open and Bruce had a sinking feeling just before the shutter sound echoed through the room. The Joker's previously glazed eyes snapped to attention slowly zeroing in on the reporter across from him.
"I wasn't ready for that one. I don't even have my face on." The Joker said darkly setting the picture gently on top of the table. "Why don't you give that here and we won't have any problems, ey?"
"It's just for the paper. You agreed to this interview. That includes a photo." The Joker gave her a tight smile tilting his head back he let his hand drop, outstretched, against the table. His palm waiting. He wriggled his fingers a few times and Vale just stared at him, The Joker scowled.
"I don't really think you. Quite. Understand. What I'm saying." The Joker growled turning his hand around he clawed at the table. He let his foot slip back onto the ground, sitting up again.
"Hand it over Toots and no one gets hurt." The Joker leaned over the table placing his other hand against the smooth surface.
"I really think that – ." There was a harsh slap of flesh against metal and Vale gasped. The Joker's hand coming down on the table violently sending a few pictures sailing off the edge.
"No! No." The Joker cut her off, giving her a smile, he lifted one hand up his index finger a little more rigid than the rest, silencing her.
"I'll give you some time, yeah? Let's say, mmn, ten seconds. You know how to count right. Let's count down together!" He cocked his head to the side with a grin, placing his hand back onto the table.
"Ten!" He said through his teeth.
"It's just a picture, look I'll – ."
"Nine!" His scars pulling as the corner of his mouth twitched.
" – take some more of you when – ."
"Eight." He accentuated the tee and leaned farther forward.
" – ever your ready. What do you say?"
"Seven." The madman grew more serious, his playful tone evaporating, his body sinking closer to the table.
"Seriously. Joker. Look I'll delete it."
"Six." Bruce noticed the Clown's hands moving, a small tinkling of metal.
"Okay fine. I think we're both responsible – ." Vale was losing her professional cool, fear and panic creeping into her voice. About time Bruce thought.
"Five."
" – adults here, let's work this out. It's just a phone right?"
"Four, three, two, one." Joker finished quickly. Vale screamed as The Joker suddenly launched himself across the table. Easily scrambling across it, despite his wound.
"Oh my god! Someone stop him! What are you doing?!" Vale screamed as the Joker slid to the ground in front of her. His hand shot forward easily catching one of the redhead's flailing ones. "Let me go! Guards!"
"Just be a good little girl and hand it over already." The Joker hissed sounding distracted as he wrestled with her arm. They grappled around and eventually The Joker's back was to the camera, Vale's horrified face in full view.
"Please don't hurt me!" Something cracked and Vale screamed in pain dropping to the floor. The Joker fiddled with something in his hands. There was a bang, stomping boots and gruff shouts as the door slammed open. The Joker danced away from the guards shoving something into his mouth, dropping the phone to the ground. Seconds later he spat the remains of the phone's memory card onto the ground just as the guards rushed towards him.
"Whoa boys! Calm down! It was just a little argument." They shoved their way past the table taking hold of either of his arms which he had held up in surrender. One of the went to cuff him. "Whoa, watch the goods. Hey don't touch that!" Joker snarled as one of the men nearly knocked over the table. The Joker kicked his chair which slammed into one of the guards knees sending him tumbling over, crashing to the ground with the chair. The Joker lunged forward ripping out of the other guards grip, but another guard intercepted him. The Joker grabbed the man's wrist slamming his hand into the man's elbow. Swiftly the man was down with a shout of pain, his arm hanging unnaturally. The Joker danced out of the previous guards grip again, snatching the picture off the table just as three guards threw themselves at the Joker, pinning him in between their bodies.
"Hands off! If you bend it!" The Joker hissed and a man screamed jerking away from the clown holding his neck. The Joker spat out a chunk of skin. Blood running down his mouth. He quickly slipped the picture under his shirt on the opposite side of his now bleeding wound. His breathing wheezed as the guards finally cuffed his hands.
"Alright! Alright! Lets all play nice! See we're okay? We're okay right?!" Joker tried to cackle only to go into another coughing fit, this time spitting up blood. It was relatively quiet for a several seconds, only quiet curses and a few sobs or groans of pain were heard as they moved him towards the door. Vicki heaved herself off the ground her hand held close to her body.
"What took you guys so long?" Vale angrily demanded through her tears.
"Look lady. We told you this was a stupid fucking idea. It was your funeral." The guard on the left of The Joker spoke up.
"That's what you're here for! To protect me!" Vale cried indignantly.
"Yeah and what about us? He broke my fucking arm. God." The downed man said cradling his arm to his chest and the Joker got out a few chuckles.
"The interview is over. This isn't worth it." The guard on the right muttered.
"Wait. Wait! Okay fine! But, I need that picture back." There was a long silence as everyone looked at the Joker who simply scoffed.
"You touch it and I'll disembowel your entire beautiful family, extended included. Wouldn't want them to miss out on the fun!" The Joker stated, a paper was crinkled a bit as he held a hand to his hip protectively.
"Forget your picture." One of the guards stated with finality.
"But!"
"Get her out of the way." The Joker settled on a cheek splitting grin, foregoing the laughter, as a guard moved towards her.
"Thanks for the gift sweetheart! It's definitely one of the better ones. Maybe I won't kill you when I get out! Maybe."
"Shut up freak." The Guard shoved him roughly and the Joker took a sharp inhaled breath, gripping his chest.
"Hey! Don't touch me!" Vale yelled out indignantly as she was shoved out of the way and the door slammed shut cutting out The Joker's labored breathing.
"God Damn it." Vale cried at the shut door. Gingerly picking up her purse from the ground she fumbled around in it with her good hand. The sound cut off. Vale's recording over, and she walked out of the room.
Bruce rewound the surveillance tape, then paused it. The Joker sat across the metal table. Thin wrists encircled in cuffs chained to the table. The Arkham uniform already adorning his lithe figure. He was sitting sideways in his chair, slumping against the metal armrest, one leg thrown over the other. He held a picture in the air with his hand. None of this was anything too frightening or worrisome, his posture was normal. No, it was his expression. The calm, that sent fear, no, Batman was never afraid, concern gnawing at his insides. Joker was staring at the picture with a serene fascination, a sane glint in his eyes, his lips parted, fingertips tracing his scared bottom lip. Bruce knew while staring at the frozen image of the Joker that the madman was serious. His penthouse, where ever he was at, would be the first place The Joker would be when he escaped. He would delve into Bruce Wayne's history, his past, childhood, business dealings, one night stands. Into his soul. He would find every detail others had overlooked... and he would know. The Joker would know. Even half way through all of that, he would know. Bruce had no choice. He had to cut this off at the source, before The Joker could take his time, before he could escaped. He needed to see the madman, as Bruce Wayne. He needed to play the most vile, idiotic, pathetic, uninterestingly unintelligent man he possibly could and maybe, just maybe, the Joker would drop this. Drop the fascination that sparked in those eerie green eyes.
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