Disclaimer: All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on Chris Nolan's characters in the movies. I own absolutely nothing but the plot. Dedicated to Heath Ledger and based on his Joker.
Chapter 10: Everything Burns
A/N: Please enjoy.
Song: Burn by Apocalyptica
To Bruce's horror, his resolve to remain in the light steadily began to waver. It terrified him to know that the Joker's words were getting to him, forcibly disrupting his thoughts. Impulse steadily began to take the place of his judgement, trapping it behind a thick haze of doubt.
"The world isn't the happy place that everyone likes to think it is. This city is proof of that. No matter how many people want it, this city can't be turned into something it's not. Gotham is a permanent part of the underworld; no amount of righteousness can change that."
He watched the cruel smirk make it's way across the Devil's face, and growled, "You just kill people for money. You think that's fair?" The Dark Knight was thoroughly convinced that the man before him was the Devil incarnate; that he was trying to drag Gotham and it's inhabitants down to the depths of hell.
"How many times do I have to say it? It's not about the money, Bruce. It's about... sending a message: Everything burns. These uh, civilized people that you're fighting for, will destroy each other when everything falls apart. That's just the way these things work." The Joker was like a wild fire: Spreading chaos and anarchy every chance he got. "I know I've told you that before..."
The Joker's sickening laughter cut through the tense feeling in the night air, and Batman decided he'd had enough. Instinct took over and he charged, knocking the Joker to the ground.
"It took you long enough," he chuckled, drawing the switchblade from his pocket. "What was that for? Gotham? Harvey? Maybe... your precious Rachel?"
Bruce grimaced, his hand closing on the Joker's throat, pushing him against the concrete. "Shut up...!"
"You can't bring yourself to do it, can you? Gotham's Dark Knight refuses to cross the line that holds him back," the clown pouted with a laugh. "How sad..."
The Dark Knight winced as something clamped itself tightly to his arm. Three large rottweilers had snuck up on him, biting and clawing at his armor. He released the Joker, turning his attention to the half-starved dogs that began circling him. As one of the dogs lunged for his throat, he grabbed the beast by the scruff of the neck and flipped it over, sending it, howling, to the ground. Another clamped its jaws onto his leg, sinking it's teeth through the dark material.
He kicked the dog, throwing it to the ground with an excessive amount of force, leaving it gasping for breath. He scanned the surrounding area, waiting for the third dog to attack. The harbor was silent, and the Joker had vanished with Harley. Suddenly, the he felt a sharp pain in his head, and crumpled to the ground. His vision blurred to darkness, and the last thing he heard before passing out was:
"Why so serious?"
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
The butler sat at the dining room table, tea on the table and newspaper in hand as he flipped through the obituaries. So many people had died, and in so short a time. Gotham was truly falling to pieces at the hands of the Joker, and it seemed that no one could stop the tyrant. The doorbell sounded, interrupting his thoughts, and Alfred placed the paper on the table along with his reading glasses as he hurried to the door.
As per usual, he held one arm behind his back, and opened the door.
"Evening... Alfred, isn't it?" the Joker snickered, leaning against the door frame. "
Alfred backed away from the open door, wondering what had happened to Bruce. The Joker waltzed through the door, following the terrified butler with a laugh. A young woman walked in behind him, carrying a rope.
Alfred glanced at the woman and let out a gasp. "Harleen, I thought you were... dead," he whispered. The man had been sure that, after seeing her body on the news, the beautiful young woman would have been long gone from the world. But there she stood, staring him right in the face.
The Joker looked from Harley to the butler, confused. "You know him, princess?"
Harley sighed and nodded. "Yes. Alfred's an old friend of my late grandfather's... Not that it matters now." She held the butler at knife-point against the wall, masking all emotion from her face and voice. "Don't move."
It was at that very moment that the old butler realized that the woman named Harleen Quinnzel truly had died. The woman who had forced him against the wall was not the same as the young child who had cried so much after her mother's death. This woman was not Harleen Quinnzel, but merely the Joker's marionette.
A fierce blow to the head sent Alfred to the floor, and as his eyes slowly closed, he saw, for the last time, the face of a sobbing child.
The face of Harleen Quinnzel.
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
Bruce's eyes snapped open, and he found himself lying face-down on the ground. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet, trying to clear the dizziness from his head. Upon regaining his composure, he scanned the surrounding area, realizing that he was still in the harbor where he had found the Joker. The Batpod was still there, only a few feet away, but the Joker and Harley were nowhere to be seen.
"Shit!" he hissed, stalking towards the vehicle. He swung his leg over the metal body, and found a small black box sitting on the control panel. He tore the packaging open, only to find a small radio of some sort. It was already turned on, and the static was blaring from the speaker.
There was a note taped to the device that read, "Warehouse 13."
"What the hell is he up to?" He tucked the radio onto his belt and sped off towards Warehouse 13. It was only a short ride from where he had been, but he wasn't willing to run the risk of walking, especially when he had a vehicle that could easily outrun the Joker's thugs, should they be around.
Bruce turned the pod to the right, riding right through the open doors of the large building. On the far wall, another message had been left for him in bright red letters: "Alfred Pennyworth." His heart began racing, and he stepped on the gas, speeding through the harbor to get to the main street. He pulled onto the busy freeway in front of a large truck, ignoring the angry shouts and honks that came his way. His main priority was to get back to Wayne Manor in time to save Alfred.
The Batpod sped through the open wrought-iron gates of the manor, and parked in front of the mansion. The doors were unlocked. A very bad sign. Alfred never left the doors unlocked. He pushed the door open, and frantically began searching for the butler. He rushed to the study, pushing the heavy oak doors aside. On the wall, opposite the large bookshelves, the Joker's insignia sat waiting for him. Just below the face, smaller letters had been painted in a deep crimson red: "Avenue X."
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
When Alfred awoke, he gently lifted his head, struggling to open his tired eyes. He attempted to move his arms, realizing he was bound securely to a chair. With a weary groan, Alfred attempted to take in his surroundings. Not much could be seen, as the room was dark, lit only by the faint stream of moonlight that flooded through the clouds and into the window. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he noticed several large barrels stacked around him, and the scent of oil that made him nauseous. He sighed, worrying about Bruce's safety, and hoping that the young master wasn't in a situation such as this.
Or worse.
The door creaked open from behind, and someone entered the room. The manic snickering of the Joker filled Alfred's ears, and he felt the icy point of a knife against his throat. "Don't you have anything to say? Anything at all?"
The Joker was taunting him. Trying to get the butler to say something he'd deeply regret. Alfred kept his mouth shut, unwilling to give the bastard what he wanted. It would be far better to suffer than give into, as Harvey Dent had once said, "this terrorist's demands."
"Hmmm... I guess not..."
A frightening silence followed those words, and the blade left his throat. Alfred was unusually horrified, anticipating the worst. The clouds had covered the moon, creating an eerie darkness in the large room. The thought of the Joker lurking about in the darkness sent shivers down the old man's spine. The point of the blade returned and Alfred gasped, his heart pounding violently, and his breathing growing quick and shallow. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room for a few seconds; light glinting off the blade that was so close to taking his life.
"You look nervous..." the Joker laughed, staring into Alfred's eyes. "Is it the scars...?"
Rain pounded against the window, and the demon stepped back to peer at Alfred from the darkness. The face that struck terror into the hearts of Gotham's citizens was watching the old butler's every move. The face a murderer; the face of the Devil; the face of the Joker.
"Why don't we give Bruce Wayne... a little call?" The Joker pulled a radio from his pocket and held it in front of Alfred, holding down the button. "Go ahead. Talk to him."
6 - 7 - 6 - 7
The radio on his belt began crackling with static, causing Bruce to grab hold of and stare at it. "Alfred? Alfred!" he shouted, shaking the radio desperately. A scrambled voice crackled through the static, and Bruce clung to the device hopefully.
"Evening, Bat. Having fun?" The Joker's hysteric snickering came through the static, and Bruce wished he had choked the bastard when he had the chance.
"What have you done with Alfred?" the Dark Knight growled into the speaker. He heard the Joker's laughter on the other end, and he ground his teeth together.
"Batman, it's me." Alfred's voice came through, calming Bruce down a bit. "I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to say this, but-"
The radio crackled with static and the sound of a horrified scream barely came through before the radio on the other end cut off. Batman stepped on the gas, weaving his way through the heavy traffic to get to Avenue X. At this point, all he could do was pray that Alfred would still be alive when he got there.
"Ooh... Looks like that's all we have time for tonight," the Joker said, feigning disappointment as the radio returned to static.
Alfred...
A large vibration shook the ground as Bruce turned onto the designated street. One of the buildings was engulfed in flames, and billowing smoke flooded the rainy sky above. It seemed that the Joker had set off a bomb of some sort. The roar of the Batpod's engine came to a screeching halt, and Batman jumped off the vehicle ignoring the sirens that were behind him as he charged into the flaming building. When he reached the third floor, he found that the source of the flames was coming from behind a closed door.
He kicked the door down, and found Alfred in the room, severely burned and unconscious. With a shout, Bruce picked him up and jumped out the nearby window. He hit the ground as carefully as he could to avoid hurting the elderly man any more than he already was. He handed Alfred over the the paramedics, powerless to do anything but watch as they lifted his old friend onto a stretcher and drove off to the hospital. Before anyone could get to him, the Dark Knight sped off on the Batpod. As he neared Wayne Manor, the radio crackled again and the sickening voice came through.
"Everything burns."
Poor Alfred.