Chapter 4
Technical Difficulties

Bruce just sits, eyes glazing over in boredom as he stares out the window.

The Joker and Greg, their newest addition, have been holding a conversation for far longer than Bruce cared to listen. They're ignoring him anyway, leaving him out of the conversation. The drone of their voices, cut off occasionally by a laugh, he finds rather easy to dismiss in favor of retreating to his own thoughts as trees and hills rapidly pass by.

So they had made it through New Jersey without much incident, seeing as the Joker was too preoccupied with his newest guest the whole time. For that, Bruce is grateful.

He certainly isn't all that grateful for the situation itself but Alfred had always told him to enjoy the little things in life.

Sometime after they pass a sign that's welcoming them to Delaware, Bruce begins to grow uncomfortable. He's trying to remain still, trying to ignore the feeling in his lower regions and it's infuriating.

He would punch himself if his hands weren't bound; he has to use the goddamn bathroom.

Such inappropriate timing, too.

Mustering up all the dignity that he could possibly gather, he grits his teeth, turning to the Joker. "Not to disrupt your interesting conversation or anything, but." He pauses, brows dipped down. "... t' use a restroom."

He shoots the car floor a glare when the Joker cuts off in the middle of a sentence to stare. Giggles soon erupt from him with Greg following shortly after. The latter ticks Bruce off a lot more than it should.

The Joker tries to calm down his breathing, only to spiral into another fit of laughter, hands tightening around the steering wheel. "And I thought I was the joker here. No, nope, you're not getting outta those ropes." He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, smearing black greasepaint all over a glove. He hardly seems to notice.

Bruce gives the clown a look. "I'm not joking. You're going to drug me again if I try to leave... not to mention the tracking devise." From the corner of his eye, the billionaire catches Greg freeze in his seat. Good. He needed a scare, especially for laughing at him like it was any of his business.

"Nice try, but no cigar." The Joker gives him a small smirk, diverting his eyes back onto the road.

"I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to."

"You can go sh-" Suddenly, the car begins to swerve and Bruce can see smoke coming from the back of the car. Something black peels off the car and the Joker momentarily loses control; that had to have been the tire. Bruce thinks he's going to have a heart attack.

The Joker is grimacing by the time he pulls off to the shoulder, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. He gets out with a huff, kicking at the car with disgust. "Fuck. The tire blew out."

Bruce hid his smirk, the knowledge going unsaid between them - the Joker would have to untie him, now, to help with changing the tire.

He mentally says his thanks to any possible deity that may or may not be listening.

He wasn't sure if it was good luck, Murphy's law or plain old karma that brought this upon them, but he really couldn't care less.

"Up up up, I need help lifting the car," he directs to the back seat. After Greg steps out of the car, the Joker circles around to the passenger side, tonguing at his scars in contemplation. He swings the door open and begins to busy his hands with the knots, unbuckling the seat belt as well.

"Get the spare out of that side-compartment-thing," he calls out to Greg, pointing to a vague spot inside the car. Not bothering to check if his order was being followed through with - as he knew that it would - he continues to undo the ropes binding Bruce to his seat. "And stop looking so proud of yourself," he practically growls the words, tightening his hands on an arm.

Bruce shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Get up." He's annoyed, he can tell by the tone.

"Well you don't have to be so serious about it." After that, Bruce and Greg find themselves being held at gunpoint as they lift the car, Bruce nearly writhing with the need to pee.