A/N: If you know me from livejournal, then this is old news and I apologize. If you only know me from this website, then I wholeheartedly hope you enjoy what you read ;)

Title: In the Eye of the Hurricane – Chapter four
Author: ladyofpride
Characters: Joker, Scarecrow/Crane and the Riddler. Batman will be mentioned (and make appearances) as the story progresses, though he isn't the focus of the story.
Rating: Pg-17 (if such a thing exists).
Timeframe: follows after the second movie
Warnings: violence, obvious insanity and the death of innocent (or not-so-innocent) bystanders...after all, this is about the Joker...
Disclaimer: I'm not making a profit off of this—nor do I have the desire to either. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.
Summary: It's true what they say. Sanity can only last so long...

First chapter: (Chapter one) –all chapters are connected.

What's red, green and blue all over?

...

He has no idea. A beach ball, maybe...

This whole riddle scheme is harder than it appears.

Crane gives him a worried look halfway through their walk, probably wondering why he hasn't said or done anything spontaneous yet. He can't blame the guy. Silence isn't natural.

Don't argue. It just isn't.

"How do you catch a guy on the run?"

Crane laughs, "Is that a riddle or an actual question?"

"A little of both."

"You...break his legs?"

Alright...but they can't exactly show the kid what a real heist looks like if they have to haul him around in a wheelchair.

The Joker stretches out one arm, fingers brushing against the cold damp wall of the alley. He steps in a puddle and the water soaks through the cheap white sneakers the asylum issues to all its prisoners. They're not exactly dressed for a night out on the town but they have time to find something suitable to wear for tomorrow evening.

After all, he wants to look his best for their newfound friend.

"So...did the kid invite us on a date or what?"

Crane shrugs. He glances again at the Joker before supplying him with an answer, "He left us a clue, though I'm not sure why."

The Joker runs a hand through his hair. His roots are darker now but the green dye is soldiering on. "It's 'cause he's eager to see us again."

"So I see..."

The Joker gives him a punch in the arm. Laughs a little. It's been a while since they've taken a breath of fresh air outside the confines of Arkham Asylum. Even longer for Crane. "So, where the hell does the kid plan on seeing us?"

"Where else?"

-1-Joker-1-

Two criminals walk into a drugstore. What do you think they said?

Nothing, actually. Despite his urge to waltz in through the front door (he would've gotten one hell of a reaction out of the salesclerk), Crane convinces him to break in through the back. As badly as they want to scare some poor bystander senseless, neither of them is exactly armed for a fight with security and Crane needs time to find the right drugs for their future experiment.

Breaking in is a synch. There's a punk-wannabe kid standing by the back door, sucking on the end of a cigarette as though it's his last lifeline, and he doesn't notice the strange pair until the Joker's within three paces of him. The door's standing wide open, said underage punk is out enjoying the early morning breeze and he has all of two seconds to register the attack before the Joker literally busts his chops.

He foresees no smoking for this kid in the near future.

The Joker leads the way as they slip inside, being about as inconspicuous as two cats in a bird house, crossing the employee longue and entering the narrow hallway between the front of the store and the side entrance of the pharmacy. A woman is standing there. Her crisp white lab coat speaks for itself. Before she can scream, the Joker has her by the throat, slamming the back of her head into the nearest wall to cut off any ideas she might've had of calling for help. She chokes on her next words as Crane pulls the jacket off her arms, looking more than just a little under the weather as the Joker shoves her into a storage closet.

Crane pauses. Admires the shocked expression on her face as she wavers in and out of consciousness before he shuts the door. The man hasn't had much of a chance to indulge himself in his strange fascination since their breakout but he'll have plenty of time for that once they deal with the Riddler.

The doctor slips off his straightjacket and yanks 'Dr. Torrs' nametag off the breast pocket before tugging on the coat. Crane's slim enough to fit it. He fixes the collar, buttons it up the front to hide his orange jumpsuit, and wanders into the pharmacy with the calm, collected stride of a professional.

That's when the Joker spots the exacto-knife.

The Joker's never been an avid believer of divine forces but he's prepared to take it into consideration now. The damn thing just is sitting on top of a stack of sealed boxes, idle as can be, waiting for some purpose in its inanimate life.

He's willing to give it one.

Snatching up the toy, he follows Crane to the end of the hallway and lingers there as the man strolls over to the shelves on the far side. Another pharmacist is at work today but he's sitting at one of those personal booths with an elderly man and a spindly old woman. The woman spots Crane, squinting through her glasses to get a better look at him, but Crane is a natural and she can't quite see his orange pants behind the counter.

The doctor doesn't waste any time scanning the vast selection for the drugs and syringes that he needs. The Joker's eager to put his knife to good use and that's when he sees the birthday display.

Balloons. Napkins. Streamers. Party favours.

Face paint...

He needs the white, at least.

The old croon gives him a weird look as he sneaks toward the front counter. When he jumps over it she looks absolutely appalled. It's amusing. There's a sign that reads 'Now open from 6:00 – 10:00' and he nearly tumbles into it before correcting himself on his feet, shoes making a weird squelching noise as he lands before stalking over to the display. The elderly man with the pharmacist is talking load enough to cover the noise and is apparently an expert at tuning out his wife as she starts yammering about something in a foreign language.

The whole thing runs smoothly up until he grabs one of the kits.

A kid that doesn't even reach his waist skids around the corner, sliding to a sudden halt when his eyes fall on the Joker. He takes a quick look between the criminal and the birthday display before grinning.

"Whoa."

Really, with all the violence on T.V. these days it's no wonder kids are desensitized.

The Joker opens his mouth to give the kid a piece of advice but that's when big sister Suzy-Sue darts around the corner and grab the tyke by his arm.

"Travis, mom is going to be so mad at you. You shouldn't..."

Her rant falls short when her brother points to him.

She doesn't scream (which is just a little unusual) but she does yank her brother rather viciously after her down the aisle. The Joker wets his lips and leans over to give the boy a little wave before he turns around, kit in hand, and notices that the pharmacist has finally spotted him.

"You...you're..."

The Joker waits for him to remember his name but Crane's finished with his collection by now and looks a little peeved by the discovery. The man hears the criminal approaching from behind but doesn't have much time to defend himself as Crane gets him in the face with a half-decent right hook. He did it with a pill bottle in his hand too. Not bad.

The guy goes down like a sack of potatoes.

It's then that the old witch starts hollering. The old man looks as though he's about to have a heart attack. Joker skips back over the counter and follows his partner in crime as they dart down the hallway, back through the employee longue and out into the alleyway. The sky is burning. The sun is rising over the living grave of Gotham City.

The Joker can just tell today is going to be great.

Tonight is going to be even better.

-2-Joker-2-

According to Crane, the clue the Riddler gave them was 'art'.

There are several different museums and galleries in Gotham but one stands out for Crane when he turns the television on and switches to a news channel. There's a mummy display at Central but a new gallery is opening up on the east side, a collection from some rich French woman visiting America. Several of her pieces have never been viewed before but much of her inspiration comes from Monet.

The Joker listens to the news with only half an ear as he rummages through the bedroom closet for something that doesn't scream 'lawyer'. The previous owner of the apartment was a single man and he wasn't exactly the brightest fellow for leaving his balcony doors unlocked, but he made the right amount of money and dressed well enough to flaunt it. Crane dresses much like his professional self before he was admitted to the nuthouse but it takes him a while to find a good belt for the dark slacks. The late owner had more of a regular build; the Joker's size.

There's nothing colourful in his closet but the Joker doesn't mind the knee-length coat he finds at the far back. It's a little old, has the left shoulder stitched up expertly and the words on the inside tag have faded with time. It must've been a lucky coat.

...Obviously not now but the guy wasn't exactly wearing it when they broke into his living room.

Crane stashes the drugs in the kitchen and shuts off the living room light so he can catch a little shut eye on the couch. The Joker spends the most part of the morning rummaging through the knife draw in the kitchen. He pockets a potato peeler for good measure and stocks up on anything else he can get his hands on.

You can never have too many blades.

-4-Joker-4-

It feels like Christmas morning when they get to the gallery. The car they hotwired is old like the last one but it isn't built for head-on collisions. Crane kicks it into gear and gets them to the place a little after sunset, parks in the alleyway alongside the small building and waits an hour before he deems it safe to enter. The street isn't busy but they both advocate the idea of using the back stairwell. The Joker doesn't mind locking horns with security but it would be rude to steal the Riddler's thunder. The guy seems to have everything planned out to a tee.

And he does.

Security is already down. Two middle-aged men lie comatose on the third floor just outside the gallery's twin doors. One of them has a funny little metal pin sticking out of the side of his neck.

Sedatives.

Why is he not surprised?

Crane toes one of the limp figures with his left foot, tilting his head to take in the blank expression on the man's face. "...Some criminals would argue that guns are more effective."

The Riddler is standing at the far end of the gallery, leaning to one side on that incredible cane of his with just his right hand. One of his calves is crossed over the other in a relaxed position. For a moment, his interest is fixed entirely on a painting, admiring it in the dim illumination of the room...

When he turns his head he doesn`t look at them, just keeps them in the corner of his eye. "Anyone is capable of destruction, Dr. Crane. I think a greater deal of effort is invested in preservation and creation."

"That depends" the Joker replies, "on how imaginative a man can be."

The Riddler uncrosses his calves and shifts his weight evenly between both feet. After a moment, he lifts his cane and rests it against his shoulder, pivoting on his heel to face the pair.

"Do you plan on stealing anything tonight?" Crane asks, folding his hands behind his back as he steps inside and glances at one of the smaller portraits. Just for a little privacy, the Joker follows him inside and closes the doors behind him. "You mentioned earlier that if you were ever compelled to steal anything it would probably be art."

"I did, didn't I...?" the Riddler replies quietly. He's smiling. Just a little. As he approaches them, slowly, the Joker can see the mischievous twinkle in those lovely green eyes of his. When he stops in front of them, he can see the life in them. The vivacity. The élan.

He's an animate person—you'd have to be in order to run twenty-some consecutive heists against Gotham's greatest detective. But he's not built for battle (just like he said). He's got more of slender frame, like Crane, and is a tad bit shorter. Maybe by an inch...maybe half an inch—the Joker really doesn't care. It's just the energy he's concerned with, the simple thrum of it in the man's brisk stride, and its gradual decline in the weary posture of his shoulders. He's pale. He's weakening.

He's tired.

There's something plaguing his mind, something that's driven him to challenge Gotham's Dark Knight to a perpetually endless game of questions and clues. The Joker's seen it before. Some people become obsessed with things that take them years to accomplish—a house, a dog, a kid (or 2.5 kids, at least). The Riddler's beast isn't that simple. He could've chosen a normal life but something drove him to the brink of insanity and he's clearly fighting tooth and nail to hold on.

Beside the Joker, Crane is coming to the same conclusion. "Where do you plan on leading the Batman?" he asks, "I'm assuming this game will come to an eventual end..."

"He's a cunning man," the Riddler replies, "the best kind of man to test my riddles. I want to know if I can beat him."

The Joker considers himself something of an expert when it comes to reading lies. The Riddler isn't lying so much as he's avoiding the whole truth. Alright—he can buy the idea that the guy wants to match wits with the Bat (after all, that's what he has all of Gotham believing) but it isn't his main goal. It isn't the star on his horizon.

"You mean there's nothing more to this game?" Crane asks curiously, "You just feel compelled to harass Gotham's saviour with your riddles?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe not."

The Riddler smiles again, tapping his shoulder with his cane—though his smile is a little thin and the spark in his eyes dulls a little as he narrows them. "Then what, do you suppose, is my great secret?"

And that's when the Joker gets it. He takes in the Riddler's defensive position, the tension in his shoulders, the potential mischief hiding there in plain sight beneath the green, and it all just clicks.

"I know what it is," he says. The two men stare at him, Crane a little curious, the Riddler mildly upset—both equally surprised. Really, why hadn't he thought of it before? "You're a leprechaun."

Crane gives him a weird look. The Riddler opens his own mouth to protest but closes it again almost immediately. He's frowning in the kind of way that he can't tell whether the Joker's being serious or not.

"Oh, come on," the Joker sighs, rolling his eyes, "If not for those things you keep leaving everywhere—"

"—riddles," Crane supplies.

"—then the media would've labelled you Patrick O'Danger or...or something stupid like that. You cause mischief for no apparent reason, you wear green all the time, you're short—"

"—I'm not that short," he protests.

"—and you've got a hat. Add a shamrock to it and you'll complete the look."

"That's a rather crude observation."

"Well, do you like Lucky Charms?"

"No," the man mutters, "And that isn't the answer. I—"

The man is cut short by the incessant beeping noise on his left wrist. He pulls up the sleeve of his suit-jacket to glance at his watch and curses under his breath.

"You have a bomb?" The Joker asks hopefully.

"No. Batman's going to be here soon."

One of Crane's eyebrows arches ever so slightly, clearly interested by the man's answer. "You recorded the amount of time it takes the Batman to react to one of your riddles?"

"Not exactly," the man admits solemnly. "He's improved quite a bit since the last few heists..."

"Even so..."

The Riddler stares at the floor for a moment, mind wandering a thousand miles a minute as he brushes past the Joker and heads toward a beside the doors. The Joker almost does a double take when he spots the Polaroid Land Camera sitting there. But those things are old...older than the kid. 1970s maybe?

"Your family couldn't afford to buy a new one?" the Joker inquires as the kid unfolds the collapsible model and strolls on over to one of the paintings.

"I need the photo tonight," he explains as he raises the camera to his eye and takes a snap at the seaside picture, "It would be rude to leave that woman with nothing to show her guests..."

"You actually like this painting?" Crane asks, stepping up beside the boy.

"It's alright, I suppose." The Riddler lowers the camera and takes the photo from its mouth. Bending down to place the Polaroid on the floor, he straightens again and reaches into his pocket for a black marker. "The Batman will find it if he figures out the next clue."

He writes something on the back of the photo. A bunch of numbers. Joker catches a couple of 3s and a 5 as he steps up behind him but by then the Riddler's done. The kid pauses to put the photo on the ground before reaching up to grab the original and it's then that the Joker realizes the Riddler has purple gloves.

...He had purple gloves once...

"Then why this gallery?" Crane presses.

"The artist is French."

Ah...

As if that makes any sense.

But it probably does to the Bat. The kid's last riddle could've said anything, really—the Batman still would've been able to solve it.

"Which reminds me..." the Riddle turns to face Crane, glancing briefly at the Joker before returning his attention to the doctor, "...what is it that interests you about me? You already know I don't kill or steal—I'm really no use to you or your companion."

The Joker smiles; the Riddler catches it in the corner of his eye. "We're here to save you, of course!"

"...From what?"

Isn't it obvious? "Yourself."

It's then that the lights flicker. They flicker again before failing, leaving the emergency lights for clarity—and he knows it's the Bat. The guy is just so damn obsessed with spooking his prey before gliding in for the attack that if it isn't him the Joker's willing to quit wearing face make-up for at least a year.

Glass shatters out in the hall somewhere close to the doors.

The Bat is going to kick it in any minute now.

The Riddler tucks the painting under his left arm and lifts his cane, walking over to the door as if there isn't some deranged man dressed as a flying rodent waiting for him on the other side.

"I take it you have a plan?" Crane asks in obvious amusement. He and the doctor keep up behind the kid, both equally curious as to how he plans on evading Gotham's hero.

"Something of the like..." the Riddler murmurs as he aims the bottom of his cane at his destination. The Joker's expecting more gas bullets but he finds something a little more interesting instead.

A dart of some sort or another is ejected from the cane, hitting the door with an audible thud before exploding.

See!

He knew the kid would enjoy explosives.

It isn't just some toy either. The twin doors and half of the wall are blown to kingdom come, splinters raining down on them as they press forward through the cloud of dust. Someone shouts out in the hall, covered by the brunt of the destruction, and the Riddler steps over and around it as though he's done this a thousand times before.

"You have a car?" The Riddler asks over his shoulder as Crane and the Joker skip over the debris after him. A chunk of the door is knocked aside just then, a sure sign that the Batman won't be down for long. The explosion might've shocked him a bit but the Joker's seen him endure worse in the past.

Damn, if this isn't exciting.

"...We do," Crane admits quietly, eyes focused briefly on their nemesis before he follows the kid into the stairwell. "Were you expecting us?"

"It occurred to me that you might show up but I was really hoping I would be gone before Gotham's Knight arrived. I'm not exactly a fan of running."

"I am," the Joker giggles, skipping the stairs by twos as they dash down to the ground. The Riddler glances at him strangely for a moment but tries to ignore him for the most part. The kid's smart. He knows something up.

When they burst out into the alleyway, the Riddler's eyes fall on their beat-up car before he glances the other way down into the darkness.

"Are you coming?" Crane asks, though he says it with an air of sarcasm. "I think we need to have a little heart to heart."

The Riddler doesn't even look at him as he takes a step in the other direction. "No...I think I better not."

He's obviously startled when the Joker reaches out to grab him by the wrist. The Riddler almost drops his cane. He spins around to glare at the man, that perceptive look of his returning to his eyes, and the Joker just can't help but smile when the kid says, "I don't need saving."

Denial.

Honestly, people these days...

"Oh, you need it more than you know, kid."

And he does.

Everyone thinks they're fine before the fall...

A/N: Ack—I know! I hope they still sound in character. If not, please feel free to throw me in a burlap sack and beat me back to sense. I'm sorry (ducks for cover).

...Anyway, the Joker's comment about the Riddler and his subtle inability to lie is from the comics. That's why he leaves riddles—he just can't do something without leaving a hint that will unveil the mystery of why he does what he does. I'll tell you more about it as the story progresses...