A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! And thank you to my anonymous reviewers: xxJokersgirlxx, Tasha, Nara, and Jenn!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Enjoy!
The elevator slid smoothly downwards, white lights clicking on with his presence.
His walk was brisker than usual, but then again, it was already past sundown and he had places to be, bombs to intercept. Bruce had been reviewing plans with Lucius for a new car – the man had had some astoundingly good ideas – as the Batpod wouldn't survive most of his usual altercations. It was fine for street work, but anything more dangerous and he'd have a broken neck to show for it.
Nevertheless he would have to leave those thoughts for later – on to more pressing matters.
As much as it pained him to do so, Bruce was forced to admit he hadn't been as truthful with Gordon as he would have liked. The last thing he needed was crooked cops swarming the area, only adding to the body count. It was true, he hadn't learned anything about the hostages from the thugs he questioned, but he had managed to acquire the security tapes positioned around the building. No vans in or out, no suspicious or unauthorized trains. A few of the tapes concerning some of the lower tunnels were missing, though no trains were reported leaving that day by the sensors. Whatever the Joker had received, and most likely it was more of the same, it had never left the building.
Inputting a series of codes, he brought up the blueprints of Gotham Central, critical eye scanning the lower tunnels and abandoned storage facilities between them. He was looking for any large, reasonably flat area, preferably beneath one of the building's main support structures. Typing in his request, the program highlighted twenty potential sites on the prints, all fitting his parameters. Assuming the Joker was employing his usual modus operandi, and there were no reasons why he wouldn't at this point, he needed to store and rig those oil drums without the prying eyes of maintenance crew. So that meant an area that had been checked recently, and wouldn't be bothered again for months. Accessing the Department of Transportation database, he called up maintenance logs for the last month, cross-referencing them to the prints on one of the other screens.
Narrowing his eyes, he watched silently as the computer highlighted only two plausible sites, assuming his assumptions were correct. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth with that thought, but left as soon as it came.
It was still rush hour, the terminal crowded with financial executives and harried office drones, parents taking the subway home, friends beginning a night of partying. If the Joker was going to select a blow site, it would possess both the worst casualty yield and the highest possibility of structural failure. Judging by the series of stress points located above and below one of the locations in particular, Bruce figured he had his match.
Pressing a button he could have found while asleep, he heard the smooth hiss of the suit chamber ascending from the floor.
He had a feeling he wouldn't be the only person at the train station tonight.
The thing lying on the floor didn't look much like a woman.
But it groaned all the same when he toed her lightly in the ribs.
Crouching on his haunches, Bruno surveyed the woman the Boss had captured the other night, a guest he hadn't explained or murdered yet. The guys who had been in the room during her capture had all been shot soon after, so he and the rest of the crew were clueless. Glancing at the myriad of bags and bloody skewers on the dresser, a regular torture chamber, it looked like the Boss had played shish kebab with the girl.
She looked goddamn horrible, like something that had been dragged out with the trash and left by the side of the road for a few days. Dark hair hopelessly tangled, shirt sticking with dried blood to her chest, bloody gouges left in her hands from her nails. She needed a good shower, the coppery tang seeping from her clothes nearly choking him. The scars he was used to, on account of the Boss and all, but it was strange to see them on her.
Looked like she would be adding a few more to her collection.
The mask hot on his face, he wiped his forehead quickly, realizing he was going to have to do this the hard way. She looked like she could use a couple bandages and a day's rest, but Bruno couldn't give it to her – when the Boss said up, you were up and had a gun in your hands. Now, he wasn't really one for slapping women around, not like the Boss, but there was a time and place for everything.
Reaching over, he shook her shoulder, slapping her face when she didn't respond immediately.
"Hey lady, we gotta get goin'. Boss says up, and we got work to do tonight."
One eye cracked open, and Bruno hoped she would just bite the bullet and get up, making it easier on both of them. As it was, she needed a bit of help, her eyes unfocused and exhausted as she looped an arm around his shoulders to sit. A couple seconds to breathe and she was standing, swaying and spinning on her feet, leaning into his husky form. The smell damn near caused him to drop her, but they hobbled to the bathroom all the same, her legs mostly able to walk by the time they got there.
"Listen, you got two minutes and then I'm coming in there. Got me?"
He closed the door for her, leaning against the wall outside. The Boss had been staying here and other places around the city, but Bruno didn't know who he had to threaten to get the water working again. It was shut off every now and then as it was.
Hearing the toilet flush and the sink run, he tried to get his mind off the job to come. The boys and he had been taking bets on when the Boss was going to break down and find himself a woman one night, but this one didn't seem like an ordinary screw. No, there was definitely something going on here, and Bruno had a feeling he didn't want to know what.
He'd collect his winnings and keep his mouth shut, thank you.
The door opened and he took hold of her arm, leading her out of the empty apartment and heading through the darkened corridor for the elevator. He wasn't worried she would run – hell, she looked like she was about to fall over – but Bruno felt it proper anyway, just in case the Boss was watching.
Never could tell when he had his eye on you.
Bell dinging its arrival, the chrome slabs parted slowly, admitting them to the musty little box on a string. It was lucky that the Boss had reconnected the elevator, since Bruno wasn't looking forward to trudging down ten flights of stairs with an automaton at his side. She hadn't said a word the entire time, simply propped the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavy and forced. The wounds probably didn't merit a doctor's attention, but she certainly wouldn't be running at full power for awhile.
"Come on, open your eyes. Time to move." His voice was harsher than he actually felt, though she didn't need to know that.
The elevator halted gradually at the lobby, sliding back to reveal the skeleton remains of a once neat little foyer. He pulled her into the urban desolation, thankful that she could finally walk on her own two feet. As much as he didn't want the girl to fall, he had a reputation to keep with the boys, like it or not. Pushing her roughly ahead of him, she leaned weakly into the two sets of doors, moving them only with his help.
The Joker couldn't have picked a better night.
It was pitch black outside, he noticed, the distant glow of downtown Gotham on the other side of the river the only source of light. The boys were waiting by the van, five of them, all wearing the omnipresent clown masks like a second skin. Much to his relief, the Boss was nowhere in sight.
"So hey, where's the –"
The answer to his question literally strolled out of the building behind them, no doubt silently leering from one of the lobby's thousand shadows. The Boss gave no indication he had been watching; purple greatcoat in place, the red-brown flecks on collared shirt poked tellingly from beneath. Three guesses that was hers.
Stepping back as the Joker advanced, Bruno left his charge on her own, not willing to risk his own neck for the lady. The Boss had eyes for no one but her, no one else seeming to matter as he paused inches from her, a grin distorting the scars. And then that voice, the one that haunted all of his nightmares.
"You're going to meet a new friend of mine, darling. I want to show off how bea-u-ti-ful you really are."
So the Batman, he was definitely involved then. Bruno was grateful he had a few armor piercing rounds in the pocket of his jacket. Fingering them through the thick fabric, he had just enough time to catch the woman as the Joker sent her flying, all traces of merriment absent from his features.
"Put her in the back with you." His growl terse, Bruno nodded enthusiastically, shivers racing along his spine. No, you didn't mess with the Boss. It was the difference between dying now and dying later, and with the Joker, that was all the choice you were going to get.
Watching the Joker enter the front passenger door, Bruno lightly grasped his charge's shoulders and steered her to the van, low whisper meant only for her ears. "Just keep bein' quiet and you'll be ok, you'll be with me." She nodded slightly, and he couldn't tell if she was even anxious, or too exhausted to summon any sort of feeling whatsoever.
For both their sakes, he hoped it was the latter.
Climbing into the back after her, he fell wearily onto the left bench, not even bothering to think of the blood stains and god knew what else probably covering the upholstery. A glance spared for the woman, quiet as always next to him, and he tilted his head against the metal, wheels rumbling below them as they raced towards the bridge. Thank God the Boss wasn't driving, he'd be sick to his stomach by now with all those stops and turns.
He knew the route by heart, could identify the familiar bumps of the bridge and the smooth pavement of downtown Gotham. They were heading for the train station about twelve blocks down, inching through the worst of traffic and screeching down the avenue when they could. If his heart hadn't been hammering with the tension brought by every job, he might just decide to nod off in the oppressing silence.
Something told him that wouldn't be a good idea.
Stopping about a block from Gotham Central, the van pulled into one of the city's countless alleyways, the boys fidgeting nervously in anticipation. Turning in his seat, the Boss swiftly pointed towards four of them and jerked his thumb, the yellow light coming through the windshield falling oddly on his green-tinged hair. Doors slid open and footsteps fell heavily on the concrete, and finally the five were gone from his field of vision.
The driver, a man by the name of Sanford, tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel, whistling to himself behind the cheery mask.
"Hey, Sanford." Bruno leaned further into the light, watching as the other man's head snapped upwards towards the mirror.
"Yeah, what do you want, Bruno?"
Checking that his charge sat as sightless and still as before, he raised his voice a notch. "Did the Boss say why we're here tonight?"
"Just said we're waitin' for the Bat to arrive. Said he'd make it so the Bat couldn't miss us. Other than that, beats me."
Returning to his position against the metal, Bruno could only sigh, "Alright, thanks." The Boss lived off holding all the cards, it would truly spoil his fun to let them in on it every once in awhile. When it came down to it, Bruno figured, the Joker was just a sociopath with a few scars and a bomb; everyone had to know and fear him for any sort of pleasure to be gained.
Pleasure and pain, sadism and masochism, two sides of the same coin. Pretty simple stuff, yet with hellish consequences for both sides.
The silence stretched awkwardly on, Sanford never having resumed his whistling, probably contemplating the abyss of what lay ahead. Normally he'd be doing that himself on jobs like this, but with the Joker, all contemplation was null and void in the long run. Resisting the urge, he instead closed his eyes and crossed his arms, planning on taking at least a rest before the oncoming storm. The van wasn't the most comfortable, but one wouldn't find a deeper silence in all of Gotham.
"I can't believe I used to kiss that freak."
His eyes snapped open.
"I can't believe I used to like kissing him."
The first words she had spoken all night, and what strange words they were. Having not moved the entire trip, her shoulders were slightly slumped, hands resting on her thighs. She stared straight ahead, her voice laced with disgust and regret, but her eyes seemed hollow, half-asleep. Dreams and fatigue talking.
"I used to make Jack beg."
The Boss, beg? Now he knows she is off her rocker. The Boss making you beg, sure, but Bruno couldn't imagine the tables being turned. The thought of the Boss bound and pleading was almost enough to make him laugh; it was like watching pigs fly.
"I don't know what he did to you earlier, lady, but I'd stop talkin' like that if I were you. Fastest way to get a bullet between the eyes."
She didn't reply, merely gazing into the ether with a look halfway between lucid and wild. Perhaps she'd taken his advice, but Bruno couldn't help the slightest hint of worry for her and his own skin. Opening his mouth to ask if she was alright, he was stopped by the walkie-talkie crackling to life on the dashboard, the voice unmistakable.
"On the Roosevelt Building. Now."
A block over, Gotham Central's glass atrium glowed in the night.
Bruno pushed her forward, the harsh sea winds seventy stories up buffeting his face and whipping her hair into a frenzy. Someone had thought to bring a stationary flashlight, a tiny lantern-like contraption that barely provided a meter of light. The Bat didn't need illumination, he figured, he'd find them with or without it.
The Boss was standing against the guard rail, long-fingered hands splayed upon the concrete, gazing down at his newest target so close yet safely far. It seemed the wind was having a field day with his hair, tossing the greenish locks every which way, almost matching his chaotic mood. The edges of the greatcoat snapped at his knees; lit from behind, he cut an impressive figure.
Who ever said nature didn't have a sense of humor?
"Uh, Boss, I got the lady here!" The gusts didn't exactly warrant shouting, but he didn't want his message lost in transfer. Another push and she was right behind the purple-shrouded outline, shivering as the cool wind battered her chest and exposed skin. Bruno couldn't help but think maybe it would have been a good idea to bring the putrid blanket after all.
The Boss didn't turn around, or indicate that he had heard the message at all. Maybe he hadn't shouted loud enough.
"And uh, Boss, I don't think she's… alright. She's been saying some funny things –"
The first thing he noticed as the Joker whipped around was that he resembled Satan. Satan in a purple greatcoat, with all the fire of Hell in his glittering dark eyes. The light almost seemed to skitter past him in fright, oddly falling on the pale and exaggerated features.
"Said what sort of things, hmm?" His voice was relatively quiet, almost lancing through the wind to arrive at his henchman's ears. Bruno watched as the Joker deftly spun the lady to face her warden, before slipping behind her shivering form.
"Sir, uh, well, they didn't make much sense..."
The Joker didn't seem to be listening, his gloved hands crawling slowly down the woman's arms, enveloping her with his body. "Things she shouldn't have said?" The woman was locked rigid in fear, her eyes wide and clouded with confusion, completely at his mercy.
Bruno swallowed, not liking where this was going. "Now that I think about it –"
"Oh, you'll have a long time to think about it…" The Boss had brushed aside the tangled hair from the woman's neck, laying a soft kiss against the unbroken skin. He murmured something that Bruno didn't catch, the tip of his tongue lazily caressing her flesh.
And then Bruno noticed the gun in his hand.
The gun which, in a flash, was also in her hand.
The Boss held her finger on the trigger, steady arms holding her in place. She looked as if she was about to collapse at any moment, her panicked eyes gazing right into Bruno's own, apologies raining like tears. Dear god, have mercy, have mercy, and don't let him shoot…
She jumped at the sound of the gun. Bruno didn't have time to.
Fastest way to get a bullet between the eyes.
She stood there numbly, the metal burning dully in her hands.
"Oh wasn't that fun? See what happens when you speak?""
His cackling was right in her ear, a rolling laughter that shook both their bodies to the core, pounding the dam which restrained her tears. Desperately she sought the numbness that had taken her this far, slipping within its cool waters like amnesia, his amusement barely causing a ripple on the surface. It was he who supplied the force that killed this man, not she. This was on his soul, or whatever was left of one in that sepulcher he called a heart.
Releasing his deadly embrace, he straightened behind her, one hand left absentmindedly on her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the turn of his head towards the street below, fits of giggles still finding their way from his mouth like bats from a cave. He seemed to have forgotten she was there, seeing only the spray of blood, repeating again and again, and the street below.
Anna took her chance.
Grasping the hand left on her shoulder, she ripped off the glove, her fingers finding the exact spot on his wrist to squeeze. He realized the pressure immediately and tried to rip his hand away, but she held on with both of hers, turning to face him. A snarl tearing from his lips, he reached inside his pocket for a knife, a gun.
Her last chance before she died. Hit or miss.
Calling up the nearest memory on hand, she searched for the commanding tone she had perfected from years of practice. Who knew if it was in her anymore, if he remembered, if it would still possess the same level of control. Something she had never wanted to hear again, never wanted to do again.
"Stop."
He blinks.
And he pauses.
His eyes leap to hers, almost as surprised as she is, and in their swirling depths she can see both the Joker and Jack, one and the same in everything except for her. For ten long seconds he is back within their old control arrangement and she is where she used to be, on top, both trapped within the game they always played.
And then she could feel it slipping away like the tide through her fingers as he reasserted himself, self-absorption flowing back into place. The Roosevelt building was not their apartment, and he also had a taste for control now.
His fist drew back and she went down, hard.
The wind knocked out of her, cheek throbbing, she screeched in pain as his gloved fingers tangled in her hair. Pulling her upwards, he laughed to see her struggle, thrusting her roughly against the concrete wall.
"Oh ho, that was clever, my darling. Very clever. But what exactly were you ah, planning?" He stood flush against her, arms like iron rods preventing any chance of escape. Grinding into her, she couldn't tell what he liked more, the fact that she had taken control or that hundreds of people were about to die only a block away. And it hit her then, that it didn't really matter; he was up here, throbbing against her backside, and they were down there, completely ignorant of the fate one man had designed for them.
She felt sick, and no amount of numbness could deaden that.
Sensing the slight heave of her stomach, he chuckled, pushing into her until she could barely breathe. His hands ran over her arms and over her torso, scratching at the wounds he had created earlier. "I think we could do this forever. You… me… and the Bat. What do you think, darling?"
Her lips were dry, but she expelled the words nonetheless. "I think –"
The masked man at the wall to her left gave out a whoop, turning to her husband.
"Boss, we got the Bat on the building next to us."
A/N: Dun dun dun... I hope you enjoyed this - I tried to keep him in character, and experiment with other viewpoints.
PLEASE REVIEW!