Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything Batman related, I believe DC comics does.
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My shoes clack loudly through the desolate parking lot as I walk to my car.
The reporters are gone and the only sound is that of the automobiles rolling down the crowded streets of Gotham. Due to the humid air, it leaves everything feeling sticky including the pebbly streets. I listen to the wheels of the vehicles snarling over them as I make my way to my own car. The night air is thick with that familiar sweaty-like feel.
I eye the sky.
Fog is rolling in.
Gloomy.
As usual.
I reach my banged up car and unlock it with the fob. It eagerly chirps at me as I open its heavy door.
I sit down in the seat, close the door, lock myself within the car and prepare to start the engine; however, something catches my tired eye. It shines into the night, bright clear; it is coming from atop the GPD's main building. I watch it glimmer into the sinful city's night sky, in the shape of a symbol all of us cops and criminals alike have grown to fear and respect.
A bat.
Shining.
Protecting.
Ever watching.
I admire it from afar for several moments, whoever the Batman is, I secretly thank him every conscious minute of the night. Right now, Gordon it probably standing atop that building, waiting to meet with the guardian of Gotham. I put my arm down that was poised for several moments, ready to insert the key to the car and start its engine. Now, all of a sudden a wave of emotion washes over me, soaking my mind with it.
Curiosity.
I want to know what Gordon and the Batman are planning.
Like an adolescent without impulse control I climb back out of the car and make my way up to the roof of the GPD building.
When I reach it to the rooftop, I see Gordon standing next to the modified spotlight, the bat-signal. Gordon is alone, waiting for Batman to hopefully come. Sometimes, the Batman does not show, but Gordon will just stand out here for hours on end, unless he has too much work, just to meet with his ally.
I watch Gordon for a couple moments taking everything in about where I am right now, how lucky I am to be alive during these times. It is almost poetic, unrealistic, and beautiful that Gotham is just so damaged by the criminals that wreak havoc on it, that we need a guardian just as ferocious to save us.
Sometimes, fighting with all the light against the dark, you need to resurrect some shadows from the other side in order to watch the sun rise once more.
I watch Gordon's glasses reflect the light that radiates into the night sky; he is looking up, hopeful at the everlasting symbol.
I approach him.
He doesn't see me yet.
"Hi Lieutenant," I greet.
His attention if turned to me and off of the sky.
He sighs smiling, looking down.
"Hello officer Duren."
"Hi, I um, just saw the light and I just wanted to..." he looks up silencing me with his smile that half-hides underneath his furry mustache, his hair is tousled in a stressful manner, however his simple smile says something different.
"Officer Duren, you do realize, you were dismissed. Go home," he says semi-chuckling.
"I know, I just…" I look at Gordon, he doesn't break the gaze, "How did you know?"
"Know what?" Gordon says, giving me a quizzical look.
"That, he was our savior?" I say quietly.
"I don't really want to discuss this," Gordon rolls his eyes upward, not in annoyance, but to avoid eye contact and sighs once more.
"Lieutenant, I know, I understand, this is a balance that must not be broken, one that I must not interfere with, I'm sorry," I know I am dancing on thin ice and I do not want him to agitated with my foolish prying.
I know better.
"You're a good cop, Eva, you don't find that too often, here," Gordon says to me, taking a quick glance up at the symbol in the sky before continuing on, "in Gotham. I may have not known you long, but I have been here at the GPD for many years and I know how judge character."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," I say, feeling very humble.
"But some things…" Gordon continues, "In this world, are better left unsaid, as you probably know."
"But what do you think about him?" I ask in a small voice.
"Who?" Gordon states, clearly lying to avoid any conversation on the Batman.
"You know, the Batman," I say.
"All I can tell you is that he is the kind of," Gordon pauses, sighing one of his infamous defeated sounding sighs, "being, that you just need to trust."
"Do you trust him?"
"Yes." He says looking me square in the eye, "Do you?"
I am now dumfounded by his question.
Do I?
Yes.
Yes I do.
"Yes," I mumble.
Gordon eyes me from within his spectacles with a soft grin across his face. The skin on his face is crinkled with age, but he is still a handsome man nevertheless. I stare back into his eyes, however as I am doing so, I notice that his vision wavers and is no longer focused on me, he shuts off the spotlight.
The rooftop is now very dark.
I watch Gordon stare at something behind me.
I turn around.
The Batman is standing maybe no more than four feet away from me. My heart leaps into my tight throat. I did not even hear him approach; he is almost like a spirit.
His cowl is in a permanent fierce scowl with bat-like ears that are like horns atop his head, his eyes dark and firm.
His jaw is firm and strong.
His whole body is encased in a black combat suit, thick, armored and intimidating.
His cloak drapes like a black satin shadow across his broad shoulders that leads upward in a svelte curve to his neck, which is thick like that of a panther.
I back away slowly and turn to Gordon as the Batman's eyes scrutinize my every move. He is like a god, so mysterious, so beautiful and so terrifying.
"Goodnight, Officer Duren," Gordon says to me with a serious face.
I get the message.
"Goodnight Lieutenant," I say to him as I turn to pass the Batman to leave to roof. The Batman eyes me as I walk closely by him. "Goodnight," I say to him, unfortunately as I expected, he says nothing in return, all I can feel is his aura of controlled fury veiled away in the fear he sends shooting through my heart.
I soon find myself pulling up at my apartment complex, tired and very much ready to sleep. Today has been a long day. I warily make my way out of my car and as I begin to walk towards the complex, an awful smell swirls up my nose, the smell of garbage coming from the side of the building that my apartment is on.
Great, so now I am going to have to smell trash all night, I think sourly and make my way inside crummy building. As I walk up the annoying steps I find myself listening to the "squeaks" of each step, they are all consecutive with each step, singing an annoying symphony.
Ugh.
I listen to them squeal as I reach the final steps when I hear an awkward squeak, one that was not cause my footsteps.
Paranoia leaps into my gut.
That was no mouse that squeaked.
Someone is following me, and I know this because I have not moved. If they were not going to harm me, then they would have already revealed themselves. I immediately feel for my key in my back pocket, when I realize that I had given it to Ilia. Frantic, I do not dare to move, and neither does my stalker. Thinking as quickly as I can I decide to make a break for my room.
I run.
I reach the door and swivel my panicking head back to the staircase.
I see no one.
Yet.
I twist the doorknob and thanks to Ilia's negligence, it is unlocked.
I run inside and lock the door behind myself.
The room is dark, so I suspect that Ilia is slumbering obliviously, however something is not right, the room smells rotten and it is not the colorful smell of the garbage coming from outside.
I reach out for the light switch, to assess the room and to awake Ilia.
Ilia is laying on my bed with one of her arms lazily draped off the side, her head is laying face down on my pillow.
"Ilia get the hell up! Someone was following me! Ilia! Wake up! We've got to get out of here and fast! Come on damn it!" I yell in a hoarse whisper.
She does not respond.
In a desperate attempt, I rush over to her and begin to shake her heavy shoulders. However, as I do this, I notice something that causes more panic to pound from my fearful heart.
Blood, Ilia's blood is everywhere, pluming from her facial area.
My stomach surges with terror as I flip her over.
Ilia's face is carved into a crimson Glasgow smile that is ripped from ear to ear.
She is dead.
I slap my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming and tears begin to flow from my horrified eyes.
THUNK-THUNK.
The door is rattling.
Someone is trying to break in.
As my heart beats so unsteadily rapid, I scan the room for somewhere to hide.
I see the light switch by the door. I scurry over and struggle to shut off the light that illuminates the room, my fingertips scrape against it as the noise of someone struggling to unlock the feeble door grows louder and louder. It vibrates as the assailant is pounding on it trying to get in.
I shut the light off.
Darkness clouds my room.
I run over to the center of the room, still searching desperately for a place to conceal myself.
And then I see it.
Between my nightstand and bed is a small enough space where I can shimmy into. I slip into the anorexic emaciated hiding place and try my best to calm myself. I glance at my corpse of a best friend, dead and from what I can see in the dark is that her pupils are dilated, her jaw is slack.
Nobody home.
My room smells of feces and urine due to her death. Her bowels and bladder let go in her final moments. Her screams not too long ago ripped her mouth open further as her killer dug the knife into her beautiful cheeks, destroying her in death. The blood that ran down her face had spilled onto my bed as she slipped off into oblivion.
Murderer.
In her hand I see something that I did not notice before, even in the light, even as I shook her listless body. In her hand that rests on the bed is a playing card smeared with drying blood.
A joker.
As I listen to the person struggling to unlock the door, I hear voices, arguing voices.
"Now, now ,now, who did you say you saw?" I hear a man's voice question through my thin walls.
"I saw some girl, she went in here," the seconded man pleaded.
"Well, if the door is locked, then chances are," his voice lowers, "she's probably in there."
"I'll take care of it boss," a third man's voice says.
"Oh no, you won't, you really won't," I listen to the first man's voice coo over the "really", which is then followed by a gunshot and a loud thud. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.
"Any, other volunteers? No, hmm?" The first man questions mockingly, I hear no response to his rhetorical question.
I hear someone fumbling with the locked door, and then I hear a click, the door opens and time seems to slow.
I watch it open slowly to reveal what I was hoping I wouldn't see. There in the doorway is a man, tall, thin, but yet he has broad shoulders. He wears a dirty purple suit. His face radiates in the dark, white and ghoulish looking. His black painted eyes peer out from a cascade of blondish-green stringy hair; those eyes are searching the darkness.
Searching for me.
His lips stretch out from their corners into lumpy deep scars, painted over by ruby greasepaint, giving him the appearance that he is always sadistically grinning.
The Joker.
Murderer.
He stands their momentarily, his head is cocked awkwardly, and his posture is tilted more to one side than the other. His hand slips into one of his tattered purple pant pockets and pull something out. He flicks it open and the little light that seeps in through my window (at the far side of my room) slithers over the edge of what I now know is a blade.
Curved and cruel looking.
I dare not move.
He is not moving either.
He is still searching.
"Ah, hello there," he says.
He knows where I am.
Shit.
I try not to panic and I don't move still.
He approaches my hiding spot.
"Come on, come out," he says beckoning me with his free hand.
I dare not move.
Bad idea.
He leaps for me, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me out, I scream in pain as his strong hand tightens around a fistful of my hair. He slams me up against the wall, still holding onto my locks. He slips his knife directly under my chin, right by the curve of my neck. I struggle, trying to break his hold, but he is too strong. The Joker presses the knife threateningly against my soft throat.
"Hey, hey," he says gruffly as if trying to calm me down, he is so close I can taste his rancid breath, "Hey, why, are you in here?" He says raising his eyebrows and nodding very quickly, as if telling me to answer him.
"I-I live here, please, let me go," I stammer out, on the verge of tears.
"Let you go? Why would I want to let you go?" he says mockingly, tightening his gloved fist throughout my hair.
"Why are you here?" I manage to blurt out.
"I don't think, that you should be the one asking the questions," he says, applying pressure to his knife. I squeal as I feel it dig into my skin slightly.
"Why are you here?" he rebounds the question, his voice going slightly high on the "you". I close my eyes, slightly whimpering and tilt my head away as much as I can, however, he doesn't like that, "Hey, hey, look at me, look at me, shh shh."
"I was coming home," I whisper, trying with every fiber of my being not to lose it as I gaze into his eyes. They flicker over my nervous face.
"From? Hmm?" He probes, shifting his weight from one foot to another. I watch his bottom lip slip inward and his pink tongue slide across the top of it.
"Work," I say, hoping he will let me get away with being vague. My hopes are terminated when he pushes the blade into my throat, threatening to slice my threads of life if I do not tell him what he wants to hear. I begrudgingly say the specifics, "I am an assigned detective at the GPD."
"Ooo-hoo," he giddily says as I tell him this, he wants more though, "And what's your name?"
"Eva Duren," I mutter. With this man, I will not win. He has the weapon, not I, and he will not hesitate to kill me if I hesitate to answer his questions.
"That's," he rolls his eyes loosely around in their sockets impatiently and nods with his head to Ilia's dead body, "Eva Duren," his eyes flicker back to me, his voices drops dangerously low, "Who are you?"
I am very confused. Then it hits me. He must have been trying to kill me, not Ilia, and she died tonight instead of me. He must have thought that she was me when he forced his way in, and forced his blade into her face. Then another thing hits me, I realize that as soon as he finds out that he killed Ilia Rendell and not Eva Duren…
He has got me, pinned between my wall and his body with a knife at my throat. My eyes search the room for some way to escape.
Then I see it.
My opened window, wide enough for me to fit through it, however there is a problem.
I am on the second floor.
My heart is pounding its way up my tight throat as I try to think of some kind of plan as the Joker bores his eyes into me, he licks his red lips, awaiting me to reply to his question.
Then I remember the trash that is lying outside of Gotham's Finest Apartments tonight. I know that directly below my window sits a forest green waste management dumpster filled with garbage, perhaps enough to cushion my fall if I jump.
I stare at the Joker's cold eyes.
"My name, my real name," I begin to say, "Is one that you are just going to have to figure out some other time."
As hard as I can I knee him in the groin.
He lets out a moan of pain, lets go of my hair and his blade slips away from my neck.
Temporarily, I have the upper hand.
I then hook him in the temple as hard as I can. He staggers back a slightly and I run for the window. My hand throbs from the heavy blow and I cannot help but wonder what his head must feel like. I soon do not wonder anymore as I hear a pained laugh coming closer.
Closer.
Closer.
I reach the window, swing my legs over and push off the outer wall of the apartment complex.
I see the dumpster filled with garbage just as I had suspected below me.
Thank God.
I am falling.
Falling.
Falling.
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A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I have been kind of busy, but I worked hard on this chapter, especially the Joker. He is a very hard character to write, however I hope you all found it alright. Thanks again to all of you who have reviewed. Please review, it helps me as a writer and lets me know what you readers like and don't like. Constructive Criticism is welcome!