CHAPTER 18 – THE LAUGHING GAME

Alfred slowly re-emerged back into consciousness. He had been in life threatening situations before, but nothing quite like this. But he had to survive, he had to. Master Bruce, in his current state, couldn't possibly take the strain of his death.

"Oh, Master Bruce..." Alfred said under his breath.

How he hated to be a burden. In this vulnerable state, he was a sitting duck for a psychopath like The Joker to kidnap him. He should have been stronger, should have been smarter. Now he was going to die, and in the process make life hell for Bruce.

Then he noticed the gun. The Joker had left it behind. It was sat on the table, just in front of him. Alfred wouldn't be able to get out of this place, even if he did escape from the chair he was tied to. He was locked in. But if he could...if he could kill The Joker, and use his phone to call for Master Bruce to come and help him. If he could just do that, he would be fine.

Alfred struggled, and winced in pain, but he was eventually able to untie the various knots and free himself from the chair. He grabbed the gun, pointing it at the door. And then he waited, not daring to move a muscle, envisioning what he had to do. Master Bruce would have a hard time forgiving him, of course, for killing The Joker. He was against killing, and so was Alfred. But…he wasn't as strong as Master Bruce. He didn't have the resolve, the conviction to let such a monster live any longer. One shot. One bullet. And would all be over.

The time felt like an eternity in passing, but just a couple of minutes later, The Joker returned, still wearing the waiter outfit, his hands buried in his pockets. He was laughing softly to himself, but the smile vanished when he spotted Alfred, aiming the gun at his chest.

There was a brief moment of silence. The Joker and Alfred, two key figures in Batman's life, were face to face. It had all been so simple for Alfred, when he'd envisioned it in his head. But now that The Joker was actually in front of him…he hesitated. For all these years, Batman could never bring himself to kill The Joker. But could Alfred? Even for the greater good? Yes, God forgive him, he could. So Alfred pulled the trigger. The Joker was blasted off his feet, a red spray flying forward. He lay on the ground twitching, a strange gurgling noise escaping from his lips, then he lay still.

Alfred let out a pained sigh, letting the gun drop to the ground. It was done. His breath came out in one long, ragged exhalation, as if he had just dropped a heavy burden from his shoulders. His chest still felt like it was on fire – after The Joker had carved his sick message into it – but the shock and intense relief made it hurt just a little less. He spotted the phone lying on the floor. It must have fallen out of The Joker's pocket. He grabbed it, dialing the phone in the Batmobile. The answering machine! He must be out of the Batmobile at the moment, probably looking for The Joker. He'd have to leave a message.

"Batman, Alfred speaking. I have been kidnapped by The Joker. I am fine, please, do not worry about me. But The Joker is dead. I need you to come here and help me. I am at...The Boon Dock Bar & Grill. I hope to see you soon."

Alfred hung up. Just then, he heard the sound of applause. A slow clap….clap…..clap, each one feeling like a knife stabbing deeper and deeper into his soul. His blood ran cold. He turned round to see The Joker standing there, a malevolent grin on his face.

…

Batman knew now. He knew what The Joker's plan had been. The more The Riddler talked, the surer he was. It was Alfred. He had gone after Alfred. He'd tried calling Wayne Manor – no answer. Had The Joker already killed Alfred? One last cruel joke before his death? Even from the grave, he was laughing at him…

And then he got the call.

The first thing that hit him was relief. Alfred was alive. Thank God. The second thing to hit him was that The Joker was still alive. Or, at least, had been still alive until Alfred shot him. A feeling of self-disgust washed over him. Because he'd been unable to finish the job and kill The Joker, Alfred had to do it.

"Harvey, we're going to The Boon Dock Bar & Grill," he said, "We need to pick up Alfred."

Throughout his childhood, when he'd lost his parents, Alfred was always there for him. Now, he wanted to be there for Alfred in his time of need.

…

"Bravo, old chap, bravo!" laughed The Joker.

"But I shot you..." started Alfred.

The Joker interrupted him by pulling off his top. Taped to his chest were various blood pellets. The Joker took the trigger out of his pocket.

"Do you seriously think I would leave my gun in here?" asked The Joker, "That gun was full of blanks. I wanted you to think I was dead, partly because I wanted you to make the call to our friend Brucie, and partly because I wanted to give you a false sense of hope. I know…ain't I a stinker?"

The Joker giggled maliciously. The look in his eyes – the cold, cunning hatred of a heartless killer - told Alfred that there was no hope. None at all.

"You can kill me if you want," declared Alfred, standing tall, "But killing me will not kill Bruce Wayne. It may hurt him, yes, but Master Bruce has endured pain before, and survived it. Because he is stronger than you, better than you. He is a great man, and you're just too small to know it..."

The Joker slapped Alfred across the face, knocking him to the ground.

"I don't look so small from down there, do I!?" The Joker snapped.

Alfred felt the trickle of blood running down his cheek. Then he noticed the small needle fitted onto The Joker's glove in the form of a hand-buzzer. He put two and two together, but it was too late. There was only enough time for one last, desperate thought to run through his head.

Master Bruce…I've failed you…

And within seconds, Alfred was dead. It didn't matter how strong he was, how brave, how determined he was to live on for the man he loved like a son, he died with his face pulled back into a psychotic grin, just like all the others. The Joker kneeled down, whispering into his ear.

"How does it feel to actually smile for once, old man? How does it feel to be in on the joke? HA HA!"

The Joker walked away from the body, changing into the fresh purple suit he'd set aside earlier. Now he was going to have to take a step back, and let all the pieces of his grand master plan fall into place. Batman would be on his way. And what a surprise he had waiting for him.

"It's been a pleasure, Alfred. Toodles! HA HA!"

Alfred, Dent, Batman, they were all pawns in his own little game, his laughing game. And this was a game that The Joker had already won.