The world exploded.
Windows blew outwards, crying shards of glass and destructive embers. People stood on the street in shock as those who stood too close to the explosion caught fire and ran through the streets. Twirling in an attempt to put out the fire, clothes catching, skin, hair. A dance to the fire drake jerking as your body turned to ash, people screaming and when screaming felt more like laughing, fell and finally lay smoldering.
The Joker felt the heat of the fire on his face when the roof caved in and the fire jumped out, dancing and gulping greedily for air. The world was full of sirens wailing like grieving mothers and grieving mothers silenced by the sight of the destruction.
He watched the rooftops for any signs of movement. The twirl of a cape or one horn illuminated by the backdrop of flames. Cars pulled up in score, SWAT and GCPD with nothing better to do than try to hunt down the one person who was trying to help them. At the sight of them the Joker deflated. Bats wouldn't push his luck by coming here when capture was the most likely outcome.
The Joker pushed off of the car he had been leaning on and tapped his fingers against the hood. But he might, there was always the possibility. He licked his lips and bounced on the balls of his feet. He had goons spread out all over the area, but he wanted to catch the Bat himself.
And the best way to catch a bat would be…
A grin crawled across his face and lay there coiled like a snake.
Men were exiting the SWAT cars in full riot armor, toting weapons that the mafia could only dream of. One was slower than the rest, choosing to stand inside of the van's double doors, head bent down looking through a duffle bag. The Joker sauntered closer, knees slightly bent but making no other attempts to hide his presence.
"Excuse me, Sir." The Joker let the man turn and look. Really look. Eyes widening in shock as he put one hand in front of him, trying to stay a feral dog that had already tasted the joys of blood and was hungry for more. The clown swung his hand out in a wide ark, the blade in it glinting and reflecting the beauty of the fire. The blade buried itself in the jugular. There was a small moment of resistance, then release, blood flowed down his hand and blessed the concrete beneath their feet. The man slumped forward, all life gone.
"Shh, shh. It's all right. Don't be discouraged. We all feel a little down from time to time." The Joker caught the body and flung him backwards, into the back of the van. Grabbing his legs the lower half soon followed.
He lurked in the shadow of the van and eased himself slowly up to the window. He peered in, a modern Wolf tracking down the Hunter; the keys were in the ignition. All signs of subtlety were gone, licking his lips he got into the drivers seat and turned the key. The body slid to the back of the van and hit the wall violently as he took the roads pell-mell.
No cars followed him.
"I understand your pain." He told the body. Leaning out of the windows and beaming ghoulishly at the cars he passed. "I must admit, I'm feeling a little discouraged myself."He turned in his seat to look at the body, a puddle was forming. "I know what'll cheer you up! You can come with me." The Joker tilted his head, listening to the other half of the imaginary conversation. "No, no don't worry. I don't think he'll mind. I'm always telling him he should meet new people."
He glared suddenly. Curling his fists around the wheel as he stared out the front window with dark eyes. "And you people were oh so excited to meet him. You don't understand. The bat is mine. You can't have him." He forced one white knuckled hand to release the wheel and gestured angrily in the air. "The Bat and me… we understand each other. Shit happens and you use any way you can to relieve the pressure. He dresses up as a flying rodent with sadistic tendencies. I blow up buses and rectories just for a laugh. You people-" He angled the rear view window just so, filmy apathetic eyes stared back. "You people just destroy everything you don't understand. You're worse than us. The only reason is that you're scared."
The Joker was quiet for a moment, smacking his lips and trying to decide what else to add to his monologue. He wasn't paying attention to the road and the van listed slightly into the other lane. Someone honked at him.
He put both hands on the wheel.
The van turned suddenly, hitting a car that was attempting to pass the slow-moving van. Sparks flew at the impact. The van jerked in the opposite direction, narrowly missing an oncoming car. It weaved back and forth across the wide city road, hitting and missing, sometimes mounting the curb to chase down pedestrians.
The ants ran and screamed with high tinny voices, only too aware of whom the boy with the magnifying glass was.
* * *
Bruce stood in the Batcave. Ice water doused his brain and rendered his limbs immovable; he stared like a freshly rejuvenated corpse at the TV screen.
Police Department Up In Flames! The scrolling bar at the bottom of the screen screamed. Forcing all to look at the aftermath of the destruction. Bodies littered the road, white sheet-ghosts in special salt-circles made of orange cones and flags.
And Bruce knew who did it. The Joker, who despite all of the trouble Bruce went through leading a double life found out who he was, broke into his home, molested him, and killed what would be hundreds of police officers.
("I'll slaughter them all, just for you." He could hear it faintly, but the one sensation on the forefront of his mind was the Joker's hand around his neck, he pushed up into that neck, trying-)
He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, one of many. It was untraceable and unable to be recalled by the phone a message was sent to. He dialed Gordon's cell number from memory and waited. Three rings. Five. His lungs felt heavy in his chest, weighted down by stones, he could be thrown into the bay and sink with the pure force of guilt.
Finally, someone answered. "Gordon." The voice was rough, a side effect of the smoke that spread over downtown like a fog, muffling all sounds of life until everything seemed dead.
Bruce waited. He could hear voices and movement in the background. The frantic motion of ants when they surround their destroyed nest. It was trod over by a man that enjoyed the frenzy, the pain. Really ground his heel in. Bruce hung up the phone without answering.
He wanted to go after the Joker. To punch that smiling face with all the force of a vengeful God and smile over him as he bled. The blood would run over the dry ground, poisoning. The land would have to be set aflame, born anew. A relationship forged by pain. But things weren't that easy anymore. He had to take into account all of the people on the street, set out in the singular goal of finding him.
The phone was put on the counter. Next to curled bits of wire and many sheet metal cut-outs of bats. It had never been easy.
* * *
The Joker rode the van in silence for three blocks. Leaning forward in his seat, staring up at roof tops while cars honked and swerved to avoid being hit. After a while the silence began to remind him of Arkham. Thick stone walls with metal doors, round windows with people staring, always staring. They seemed like strange creatures behind the doors, a glob-like being that rolled from door to door made up of only eyes, happy to stare and judge. But unable to see themselves.
He brought his eyes back to the road and turned the wheel slightly. A semi barreled by, with only room for a playing card held sideways between them. A hand reached out and tapped the knob on the radio. He felt like he was suspended in water, waiting for the Kraken to swim through the dark abyss and swallow him up.
All the voices on the radio were frantic. Hurried. The Joker glared at the little box. He had to pick the only SWAT van that still had a CB radio.
"SWAT vehicle missing… unresponsive." A number was rattled off with the advisement to pursue if found. The Joker lifted his eye brows and looked at the little number tag on the dash board. The numbers were the same. They were talking about him. Wasn't that nice.
The sudden hiss and crackle of many voices talking over radio. "Suspect sighted! In pursuit! Visual on Rutger and Broad." Another voice joining the fray, screaming: "Which one?"The Joker knew his voices and was positive that that was the mustached Commissioner himself.
"The Batman."
The van's wheels left twin trails of rubber on the road as he broke away from traffic, turning down a side road. He was grinning, cackling and snapping his teeth at the air like a feral dog. He found the switch that turned on the siren. It cut through the air and marked his descent into Gotham.