Disclaimers: I only own Dr. Diana Campbell and possibly this plot. I do not write this for profit but only for fun.
A/N: School has begun! Forgive me for updating so late, but school is giving me loads of time that I can't waste. Although, I still am working on all my stories. I assure you that they all will be updated eventually… Updates most likely will occur on the weekends and every other Wednesday. Forgive me! I love you all! Reviews appreciated. They keep me going! I need them!
Summary: Gordon and Batman rely on each other, but when a threat is against Gordon's family Gordon must rely on Bruce Wayne. What will happen? Will Gordon notice the mysterious disappearances? Post Dark Knight
Loyal Friends – Evil is Nearer than You Think
He could not move. He could think, but that didn't help anything. Whatever drug Dr. Campbell gave him made him immobile. If he could have moved, he would have laughed and laughed.
The Joker grinned at the memory of last week. The drug had finally faded away after a day of laying down doing nothing; unable to sleep and unable to laugh. All he could do was think, but when he regained his mobility the first thing he did was laugh.
He enjoyed his little time with the good doctor. He found her so entertaining.
And dangerous.
Oh, he did like her.
Dr. Campbell was a white woman – a pale woman actually; not as in the white paleness of milk, and not even like that she looked pale as in seeing a ghost pale. No, her paleness was like the rumored paleness of a vampire; but it wasn't ethereal in a way, but quite homely looking yet that is canceled out by the sharpness of her head especially being emphasized by her cheeks. She had dark hair and a mole near her nose.
And her eyes were blue; remarkable type of blue – extremely expressive blue, but he could tell from their first meeting that her blue eyes expressed things differently. He had seen them brightened, darken, dim, recoil, and so much. But there was one look he was searching for. It was not a flash or even a glisten, but a certain change in the blue irises. He had seen it quickly in their first meeting, but it was too quick to be sure yet he knew it was there.
Speaking of the good 'ole doctor…
She had entered the room carrying a black briefcase, and she was wearing jeans along with a dress shirt that just smelled expensive.
He gave her an appreciative look as she sat down in front of him.
Ya-ya-yummy!
She put a notebook and a pen in front of her, and looked at him with her inquisitive blue eyes.
She looked smug – a little too smug for his liking.
"That was soooo mean," he complained gruffly. He tapped the table with his knuckles and then crossed his arms. "Very mean."
Campbell's blue orbs didn't flash, but they did dim in color, and then back again.
Her eyes were quite fascinating to him. The way they dimmed or flash or brightened seemed to him as if she was controlling that reaction.
It could be… It could be…
Yes, it could be. She was a capable liar.
"Define mean… I call what I did to you the first time we met as self defense," she replied; her voice lowering.
He huffed and shook his head.
"Unusual and cruel method. You goaded me. False – pretending every movement and speech – words of trickery."
"I manipulated you?" Campbell asked; one her eyebrows raised and her eyes shining. "The drug was just a precaution. And it was proved a necessary one thanks to you attacking me."
Manipulation? He clicked his mouth with his tongue.
"I was miss-led. You duped me. I'm so disappointed," he answered.
Campbell frowned, but it didn't last. Her face returned to a stance in neutrality.
"Oh, cut the crap. Stop sending me pieces of shit."
Ooooh language?
A curse – a profanity on the doctor's lips was very telling. And enticing. How many other things can he make her say?
"Irritated?" he asked.
"Have you ever been deceived?" Campbell countered with ease.
Touchy aren't we? He grinned wider and licked his lips.
"A week long since you last visited me…" he responded with just as much ease.
Campbell tilted her head to side. "Hurt? Tough."
Attitude… "You are very rude tooo-day," he complained mockingly. "Why's that?"
"Let's get this straight – I have no reason to answer any of your questions." Campbell finally said.
He nodded in acceptance. "Well, if that's so then I don't have to answer any of your questions either. Why? No reason."
"I expected as much."
It was his turn to tilt his head. He also scratched the side of his nose.
"Then – why – so – pestered?" he curiously asked; lowering his own voice.
Campbell actually gave him a grin, but he knew it wasn't genuine.
"I'm not, Joker, believe me I'm not," she replied. "All I need is a sort of understanding from you."
He uncrossed his arms and put them out in a welcoming way.
"Puh-lease, do tell."
The doctor grinned. Campbell sat up straighter. She looked deep into Joker's eyes.
"I'm not here to appall, appeal, appease, or to applause you," she tried to explain.
Appall? You can never appall me. Appease? No one can appease me, doctor. Appeal? Oh, appeals! Not listening! You appeal me. I see many things in your eyes including – secrets. Applause? I wouldn't mind that. I wouldn't mind that at all.
"Then whuh-what are you here for missy?" he asked.
"I'm here on my own accord; my own terms not Arkham's and sure as hell not yours." Campbell pointedly said, but there was also a touch of sincerity in her voice.
He nodded quickly; almost encouragingly. "Hmm…"
"You think my methods are cruel and unusual. No, this is just me," the doctor continued; her eyes looking almost apologetic – almost. It quickly faded away.
She leaned forward. "I'll tell you what. Something can happen. You don't like being bored. I can tell. Do you want to be bored?"
He smirked, and leaned forward as well. His face was a little close to hers, and his smirk became larger as he looked into her sapphire eyes intently. He then made his favorite clicking sound with his tongue in his mouth.
"You don't look like a man with a plan. You look like a dog with a bone. No, a dog chasing a truck; a dog trying to catch its tail. Do you remember what I told you after I made you lie on the ground, Mistah J?"
Mistah J? Pet names are delicious.
He tilted his head again in acknowledgement.
"Ooooooooooooh I remember everything well…" He widened his eyes on purpose. "Drugging me when you were down between my luh-legs…. You juh-st puh-pushed it in. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. But I did think, ya know, I thought using my intelligent brain. Hardi har har. I laughed."
Campbell merely shrugged. "And your point is?"
He shook his head with a move of an impatient hand.
"You suh-eemed to point out that you and I are alike," he said.
"You and me alike? Why?" Campbell asked. Curious or maybe skeptical? He wasn't so sure.
He leaned back and grinned inside as she did the same.
"Darling, you answered that already!" he exclaimed happily.
Campbell wasn't amused.
"Alright, next question. You and the Batman… Who would win?" she asked although her tone suggested that she really didn't care. "Chaos or control?"
Chaos and control? He shrugged nonchalantly. "What's the point or win or lose when it's so much fun to just – go."
"I want to prove my theory."
Oh theories… Can I crush them? "And that is?"
Campbell grabbed the briefcase. She unlocked it and then opened it. Once she opened it, the Joker arched an eyebrow. The machine like thing inside was definitely curious – or troublesome. He didn't mind either outcome.
"Don't hold your breath," the doctor said in a soft and calm voice although he could hear the stern commanding undertone.
"Gee, why?" he barked.
They caught eyes again.
Something passed between them.
Then Campbell smiled.
"Because I won't hold mine."
Their eyes never broke away from each other. He grinned and watched by the corner of his eyes as Campbell pressed – maybe switch something.
And then it came. A quick and furious spitting-like shot of gas came out. He breathed in and out as he watched Campbell do the same. He knew that she had exposed them to the famous Fear toxin that Dr. Jonathan Crane created.
His grin widened. Want to see what I fear?
He waited. Or she waited. Maybe both waited.
Nothing.
"Was something supposed to happen?" he asked in innocent voice.
Campbell's eyes flashed and then sparkled.
"Ah," she said. "No, reaction or you're good at hiding it." She smiled. "But most likely you don't know fear. Like me! We're immune."
"You, uh, think we're special," he surmised.
He didn't mind being called special. Special was a fun word. What made the word better was that the doctor said he was special.
"No, we're possibly clinically insane, but it's obvious to anyone with a brain or at least to anyone who uses their brain would know that there is a fine line between genius and insanity." Campbell added.
Intrigued, he said, "Hmm. So what am I? A genius? Or a nut job?"
Campbell's smile loosened as she took off her hair tie.
He watched her with interest as her hair fell to her shoulders.
"I was about to ask you the same thing for me," she said. Her blue eyes glistening with something he couldn't name. "You see this stereotypical characterized world don't get a thing." A short pause. "Do you know what?"
"You tell me little miss sunshine."
"We're agents. You of chaos; chaotic control. And me – I'm an agent of control; controlled chaos. Who do you think wins?"
He smiled in return. "Let's find out."
"Tempted?" Campbell asked; her tone mixed with playfulness and edge.
He made a movement with his hands as he replied in a similar tone.
"Just a little…"
"Well, then…." She wrote something down. "You will be transferred to the lower section number six."
He laughed inside. Magic number six.
"Something special about that? A hide away? Your fun house?"
She grinned. "Kind of. You see – to conduct this experimental game – cause. We need privacy… We need you to be – I guess – normal… And if you are good – well, I might just let you be considered…cured or I can help you escape."
"Wha-wouldn't that make your suh-preriors suspicious? After all, you moved a crazed madman to an even more isolated place, and spent much time with him."
Campbell shrugged nonchalantly. "Why would they be suspicious when they must me implicitly? I'm an angel in their eyes. I can do no wrong."
Angel? He clapped in response.
"Oh, I'm in the company at an angel? Won-der-ful! Did God Almighty send you? Or was it good 'ole Satan himself?" he asked eagerly.
"Angel…. God or Satan? Whichever one I think I am."
He touched his mouth as he spoke, "Do you want to know how I got these scars?"
A little irritation came into Campbell's eyes.
"I can tell that you tell each person a different tale. Probably confuse yourself, but maybe you'd like to have options when questioned – like a multiple choice. No, I don't want to know. Forgive me," she examined; ending with notes of sarcasm.
Clever… Oh, I want to play.
"Got me pegged dontcha?"
"Maybe," was Campbell's simple answer. "Do you get me?"
He gave her a week. "Maybe."
"Do you like knives?"
Detour…Bad…
"Oh, yes! Savoring type of weaponry. Love gun powder too. Poison tickles my funny bone too," he replied.
Campbell wasn't amused. "I mean the knife is your official weapon of choice."
"Um, yes!" he exclaimed then he growled. He looked at her closely and asked, "What's yours?"
It took a minute or two before Campbell answered. She thought carefully before she answered.
She smiled a wicked smile.
"Acids."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
"How old are you?"
The teen wouldn't answer. He was in too much pain.
He had suffered more than a week of torture, and as each hour passed immeasurable pain to his heart, soul, mind, and body increased.
He wanted to go home. He wanted his Mom. He needed his girlfriend.
When would it all end?
"Ah, cat got your tongue!"
He started to hum as he gripped the teen's throat. He grinned and with his other hand forced the teen's mouth opened. He quickly let go of the teen's throat and injected the teen with a paralyzing drug.
"Open wide," he sung.
The teen's eyes widened. He wanted to bite his torturer's hand or scream but he couldn't.
"La did a! I get some satisfaction…"
He grabbed a tool and used it to grip the teen's tongue. He then grabbed his pocket knife; pointing it to the tongue.
"I'm gonna need this."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
A week had passed and nothing came.
Gordon and his fellows in MCU got nothing to work with to find the killer.
The press have quickly given the killer a name. It was simple, but frustrating all the same.
They called the killer "The Invisible Hand."
Invisible is right.
There were no hits on the killer. No shred of evidence on the killer. All they had was the victims.
And Dr. Diana Campbell.
She was the psychologist that he brought. She was at the top of her class. He got very approving calls from the mayor, other shrinks, and other law enforcements about her ability to profile.
Profiling…
He never was sure how assuring that could be, but he did see the stats. They were mostly correct.
"He wears perfection. He wants to keep going. He has goals."
"And what are those goals?"
"I don't know."
He didn't like the feeling he got in his gut about the killer. It was the same feeling he got with the Joker.
The feeling was so strong that he called the Director of Arkham and visited secretly to see the Joker was still in custody.
But one question seemed to come in his mind despite the assurance of the visit.
The Joker won't stop and neither will the Invisible Hand. So will the Invisible Hand go after chaos and my family,.
He wished he knew the answer.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Bruce had bowed his head as the family of Grayson Byron put the flowers on the casket. The pure grief in their eyes struck a chord in his especially seeing Bryon's son.
No child should lose a parent – so young.
He gave the sincerest of sympathy and of willingness to help the family. He also silently promised himself to find the Invisible Hand and bring him or her into justice.
As people from family to other socialites began to depart, his eyes caught the retreating figure of a woman.
She was tall in away with a brown hair about her. He remembered someone he cared about who had brown hair.
Then she suddenly turned and his eye seemingly caught hers as she smiled.
Rachel.
He didn't move. It couldn't be.
She was dead. But there she was looking a real as any live human being could be.
Beautiful.
"I never though I'd ever meet you, Mr. Wayne," said a low voice from behind him.
The image of Rachel quickly disappeared thanks to the low feminine voice.
As the image disappeared, the real face of the woman got his attention.
It wasn't Rachel, he realized. It was another woman greeting her man – probably a husband with a smile.
If only…
"Mr. Wayne?" the low feminine voice asked.
Bruce forced himself to forget Rachel – at the moment and turned to see Dr. Diana Campbell standing in front of him with her blue eyes looking strangely predatory and strangely bright.
"Miss – Dr. Diana Campbell I presume?" he greeted.
The doctor smiled an interesting smile.
Bruce found it beautiful; alluring, but also seemingly other worldly.
"Yes, I am she." Campbell replied; her low tone never receding. "It's a shame about Byron."
Bruce nodded. "Yes, it is. I hear you inherited Arkham."
"Correct."
"And rumors say that you have been hired by the police to find this Invisible Hand."
Campbell's eyes – they changed suddenly and quickly. It was so quick that he wasn't sure if he actually saw something. But yes – he did see something. He couldn't put his finger on how or what it was, but the change made him curious and suspicious. But then again, the change went away so fast that maybe he just imagined. Maybe he did.
"Yes, I'm quite determined to help capture the Invisible Hand," she replied. "The killer is a tricky fellow. But I'm sure that Gotham's finest card I can get him."
An indescribable feeling placed itself in Bruce's mind.
"I'm you will," he said. "I'm curious. I have heard of you expertise. I have a question for you." Campbell nodded so he continued and asked, "Is the Invisible Hand anything like the Joker? Or is this Invisible Hand worse?"
There it went!
He wasn't imagining things. He knew he had been right.
"I never was commissioned to interview The Joker." Campbell said although Bruce couldn't tell if she was annoyed or amused, but he knew that her tone conveyed one of those feelings.
She had a good poker face it seemed.
"But I've heard and seen enough." She paused as she wrapped her arms about herself. "The Invisible Hand will have to be stopped. Yet he can be stopped. The Joker on the other hand… Stop isn't in the dictionary when concerning The Joker. The only way to stop the Invisible Hand is either to arrest him or to kill him. To stop The Joker, it's only death."
A moment of silence came between them. Bruce thought carefully about what Dr. Campbell just told him.
The Joker cannot be stopped unless he as Batman can make the choice to end it by instigating the madman's death. But he knew he could never do that. That was the one rule he could not break.
The Joker will always be something he had to fight. But for now, it's the Invisible Hand he has to deal with.
"Thank you, Dr. Campbell."
Campbell smiled. "Your welcome, Mr. Wayne."
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Diana returned to the isolated room down in Arkham. She just had the Joker secretly moved. She had very loyal men – coworkers who knew better than to tell the director or anyone else about the change of scenery per say for the Joker.
The funeral had been what a funeral mostly is: prayer, mourning, desolation, and tears.
Well, at least for others.
There was only one interesting thing.
She had a conversation with the famous or infamous playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne.
She knew his history: parents were murdered in front of his nine year old eyes, sent to various prep and private schools, taught by tutors, disappeared for seven years, during the fifth year he was declared dead, and his return as man; the playboy billionaire. Curious… Batman came into town almost right after Bruce Wayne did.
She would have to look more into the man with her friends later.
And meet the Batman…
She had so many goals, and plenty of time.
She entered the private room filled with two couches, a bed, three wooden chairs, and a steel table.
The Joker was lying down on the bed. He was laying his head on his crossed and folded arms, and his legs were crossed. His eyes closed and the makeup was back on. It wasn't perfectly on, but it didn't need to be.
There was a touch of green dye in his hair. His uneven makeup of black, red, and white did the job of igniting various feelings. The makeup heightened his scars. The scars were on the corner of his lips and curved upward. No, actually, the right scar was curved while the left scar was jagged and haphazard.
He was wearing his old attire. She had her loyal friends find it for her.
The old attire were the gray blue dress shirt which had intricate patterns on it, a murky green vest, a dark purple coat, navy blue subtly striped pants, differently colored square patterned old socks, and dark –possible leather- shoes.
The whole outfit worked with the Joker's dirty blonde wavy hair with green dye on the tip of the front locks.
She could still see a hint of the fair complexion he had without the makeup.
Interesting.
It was interest that even while lying down he looked content, and peaceful – without a care in the world. But he still had the look of something wild – uncontrollable and savage despite the fact she knew he was in control.
Power radiated from him.
She felt it. She took it in. She liked it.
"Back from the heir of the Vanderkaay fortune's funeral?" he asked; disturbing the silence with his eyes closed although Diana hoped to see his cocoa brown eyes.
She smiled. "Boring and interesting all at the same time."
The Joker didn't move. He just clicked his tongue. He then grinned a lazy grin.
"Acids…Wide variety. I like that." He opened his eyes, but still he didn't look at her. "Scientific, eh?"
Diana took a seat on the couch that was on the right side of the bed.
"A bit," she simply said.
"Your angelic superiority was helpful. I guess – though I want – to thank you." The Joker said finally smiling, but it was a smile that Campbell couldn't decide was mocking, or genuine.
She guessed it was a little of both.
He sat up, moved himself to the wall, and leaned. His smile this time looked a little crazed. And it widened as he looked at her.
"Finally not in – jeans," he said; giving her a look that could have been filled with disgust or appreciation at her wearing a black skirt.
He ran his eyes from her bare ankle to her knee.
Either you are attracted senseless or you want to know how to make me uncomfortable…
She surmised that it was the latter, but the former was more a manipulated push from him to her.
"Are you sure that you don't want to know how I got these scars?" he asked; finally laying his eyes off her legs.
"I've got a little secret to tell you." Diana started and grinned as the Joker revealed a hint of intrigue. "I've been developing a drug of sorts. Once it is unleashed some may think or say that it is a tribute, but I say and think that it's a – little – helper."
The Joker leaned forward; his eyes making contact with hers.
"Tribute and help to whom?" he asked emphasizing on the word whom.
Her grin widened. Once again, she had enthralled the Joker's mind and caught his ears.
"A helper not a tribute to…" she paused for certain effect. "Well…to you."
The Joker arched an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. He covered his heart in mock surprise.
"Me?" he exclaimed. "Really? I'm so ta-touched!"
"You love laughing?" I bet you do…
"Laughter is a part of slaughter, and slaughter is the best medicine." Joker replied whole heartedly or something like that.
Diana smiled genuinely. All was going well.
"The toxin or venom that I have created infects a person – the victim with a ghoulish rictus grin as the victim dies laughing uncontrollably. It's a simple concoction, but very effective."
"Have you tried this Joker Juice?"
Must you always take the credit? Oh, well… That was the whole point.
"Tried it multiple times on myself." About four actually.
"Looks like it didn't work."
Oh, it did work in a way. I couldn't stop smiling and giggling at night for the next three days.
"I'm immune." She didn't leave room for any explanation. "Would you like to try?"
"Scientific ques-tion. How much will it take to kill?"
Hmm…. She wanted to try something, but decided to do it next time.
"In doses…three."
The Joker nodded. His eyes were gleaming.
"Give me two everyday…Keep it interesting…"
"Two doses may cause seizers or worse," she warned. "Can you handle that?"
"Worried?" The Joker asked with a sick kind of smile.
"Concerned? Me? No. If you want to have two doses a day then two does a day you shall get. Slaughter will come later after you play my came."
"I thought it was an experiment."
"That too."
"So……….when do we be-gin?"
"Tomorrow."
……………………………………………………………………………………………...
"It's my turn to give a gift!"
He laid the package on the mat near the door.
He knocked the door four times and then rang the doorbell. He then hurried away to his special hiding place.
"Open it dear one! Open it!"
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Little Jimmy was the one who answered the door despite knowing he should tell his mother.
He looked around, but found that no one was there. He then noticed something on the welcoming mat.
There laid a package. It was wrapped like a present. It was covered in blue and green with a red ribbon.
He picked it up curiously.
There seemed to be note on the ribbon.
For you my dearest.
"What's that?" suddenly asked his sister Barb who appeared right beside him.
Jimmy shrugged.
He opened it.
Barb screamed.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Batman arrived at the Gordon home after Alfred told him that Jim's daughter had screamed and Jim had come home to a frantic wife, and clingy and clearly disturbed children.
As swiftly as he could once he got he message, he made his way to their home; ready to do whatever it took to protect the Gordon family.
But he heard no screaming. He heard nothing, but a heart wrenching sobbing.
He looked through the window and glimpsed at Barbara crying as she held her son and daughter who both look clearly terrified.
"They saw this."
He turned at the familiar voice.
What he saw broke his heart.
His good friend Jim was shaking. He looked worn, clearly worried, and when he caught his blue eyes he saw something immeasurable fear.
He was trying to control himself.
He was clenching the box as a present in a pure and overwhelming anger.
"What happened?" Batman asked; desperate to find out what's wrong and desperate to do whatever he could for Jim and his family.
Gordon through him the package.
He caught it easily and read the note.
Disgusted, he opened the gift, and to his horror saw a severed tongue in the box. And there was note with its words clearly printed with blood.
Before he could read it, he looked up at Jim as he spoke in a slightly robotic and yet in an incredibly helpless tone:
"I love you child. Become a part of me. I love you child. Let me eat your ear."
Anger and horror came with a fury and captured Batman's mind, heart, body, and soul.
What increased it all was the look of it.
Jim's eyes. He could read what they said.
Not again.
He shook his head.
No, I won't let it happen again.
……………………………………………………………………………………………….
TBC
End-note: I apologize for such a long time on updating the chapter. I assure you that I haven't given up on any of my stories. Please review and tell me what you thought about it! I enjoy reading those kinds of reviews. Oh, and stating your predictions are great too. I will neither confirm or reject. Reviews are love!