When he woke, the first thing he became aware of was the sound of his breathing. It wasn't unlike the patient of an emergency tracheotomy. Reedy, like breathing through a tube.
Bruce pushed himself off of the bed, ignoring the mud tracks that Alfred would probably work himself into a tizzy over, and scuffled into the connected bathroom. He held one hand to his neck, testing the amount of swollen flesh and grimaced. An eggplant collar around his neck, punctuated by the deep red of burst blood vessels where the Jokers thumb found a firm grip.
Dreams, night-terrors, about a monster. A wicked wraith recognizable only by the deaths pallor tint of his skin and his wide mouth, filled with teeth to rip and shred. He was… attacked, the wraith on him and biting the junction of shoulder and neck. He tried to push him away with weak arms screaming, moaning, spine arched in ecst-
His pulse rate rose, staring at the violent collar he watched the beat of blood beneath the discolored skin. The muscles in his arms clenched, despite the pain that it brought him, and he clenched his jaw so hard he could hear his teeth grind. The song of hundreds of angry men before him, who chose to bottle up their emotions and spend it in one magnificent and shining moment.
That moment would be when he found the Joker.
* * *
"Despite what the Joker wants, this threat of his isn't going to stall the hounds." Gordon stared pensively at the lithe figure through a cloud of shifting smoke. He took another drag on his cigarette. The fifth one since he'd seen the Joker's home video. "If anything, it's only antagonizing them."
Batman stood on the very corner of the GCPD roof, looking out over his city, staring like a dark God forced to balance out two evils, which he was. He listened to Gordon, but didn't respond.
"The Mayor is calling out for your blood. He wants to increase manpower, keep armed policemen on all roads twenty-four seven." The cigarette was past the filter now, but he kept smoking. At the rate he was going, he would need to buy another pack at the end of his shift. "They're considering bringing in SWAT." No response.
Gordon took a deep breath, threw the smoking remains of his cigarette to the ground where it curled, visible, like a ghost screaming to the sky. "He thinks you and the Joker are working together." The bomb was dropped, millions ran for cover fleeing the mushroom cloud as it chased them, spreading arms wide to encase them in a smothering embrace. He cut the cigarette's remaining life short, then ground his heel into it, just for good measure.
Ashes to ashes.
It wouldn't be correct to say that there was no response, instead there was a long silence that would be eventually be broken violently, splintering, shards of thought would lodge in the brains of both speakers and ferment for days. Probably years.
"DO YOU THINK I'M WORKING WITH THE JOKER?"
Gordon, who had been looking away from Batman, did a double take. "What? You know I don't." Gordon wanted to reach for his pack and light up anew, but resisted. "You've given up the most for Gotham. You wouldn't hurt her by siding with a monster like the Joker."
Batman turned away from his view to pin down Gordon with a stare that he couldn't necessarily see, but felt. "WHAT IF HE'S NOT THE ONLY MONSTER?"
Gordon's mind stalled and for a moment buying a new pack of cigarettes was the last thing on his mind. "What are you implying?" This man wasn't a monster; he was Batman- Patron Saint of Hope, but fear and New Beginnings, but darkness.
Batman looked away, the profile of his cowl illuminated by a rotating florescent sign. "KEEP AN EYE OUT." He was swallowed by the night and carried, hopefully, to where no wandering rookie may ever find him.
* * *
The Long Walk was precisely the place that the Joker would crash, between escaping Arkham and nursing wounds inflicted by the Bat. Once, in the better more shining times of Gotham, it had been an amusement park. Large wooden tracks that rose to the sky like the dangerous curves of a beached sea monsters back. Wooden horses on multi-tiered carousels, smiling with open mouths and pink lolling tongues to children who never gripped the brass bar or took ten minutes to find their favorite horse.
A purple-gloved hand gripped the bar that was tarnished by hundreds of small hands; he sat on it solemnly, swinging his legs while the turbulent sea air rushed inland.
He was waiting for the bat.
Ever since their tête-à-tête, he had been feeling antsy. Prone to running in circles and jumping out of second floor windows just to get the crawling feeling out of his legs. That and pensive, prone to sitting for long hours in cupboards and closets, thinking. About the feeling of leather wings clipping the side of your neck and strong hands pinning you against a wall, slowly choking with good use of a forearm.
He was burning.
He had men out on the streets, waiting to catch a glimpse of the bat or the quick burst of light signaling the beginning of a firefight. Their orders were not to bother the Bat, but kill anyone who got in his way. And not to retaliate if attacked by Batman.
The Bat had family now. Who while equally as disturbed as him, though perhaps in a different fashion, would kill for him. No one in his merry band of mischief makers objected, though the handful that did were quickly taken care of. Their bodies were hung on the gate leading into the park, the mouth of a smiling clown carrying the four who dared defy the word of their leader.
The searchlight of a passing helicopter pierced the night sky with heathenistic intent. To catch the Bat.
The Joker got up from the immobile horse and patted its flank. It was the only one on the whole ride without any legs. He admired it for that, defying normal conventions. He liked to do it too. He made no signals, but as he stalked through the thick night the clowns followed him, a pack of hyenas sniffing for blood.
* * *
Gordon didn't question how Batman had been able to get a hold of his cell phone number; he supposed being a costumed vigilante entitled people to certain things.
"GORDON."
There was a pause and the Commissioner pressed the phone against his ear to catch every sound.
"I'VE RECEIVED NOTICIFICATION THAT SWAT HAS BEEN CALLED IN TO AID IN MY CAPTURE."
Gordon felt his heart drop into the very depths of his stomach, surrounded by beasts who wanted to sink their claws in and tear.
"THERE IS A HIGH PROBABILITY THAT I WILL BE CAPTURED BY SWAT, OR THE POLICE FORCE OF GOTHAM ITSELF."Another pause, shorter, he was getting warmed up.
"IF THAT DOES HAPPEN DO NOT EXPECT ME TO MAKE IT TO YOUR STATION ALIVE. I HAVE BEEN HAILED AS A COP KILLER BY MANY POLICE OFFICERS AND CITIZENS OF GOTHAM. SHOW NO COMPASSION. MY PURPOSE IS TO BRING CHANGE TO GOTHAM. IF IT SO HAPPENDS THAT I DIE FOR IT TO BE ACHIEVED, THEN SO BE IT."
A deep breath that Gordon could use to argue, or scream. It was released unused into the air. His head felt light with all the unused words cramming into every corner of his mind, filling it with a useless chant: No, no, no, no.
"YOU MUST SURVIVE WHEN OTHERS FALL. YOU WILL BE THE HOPE OF GOTHAM."
A click and the call was ended.