Okay, readers, here is the next little update!
Hope you all enjoy! :D
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Dark Knight or anything pertaining to Batman. Or McDonald's. But I own Melanie/Lane! :D
The echoing footsteps are impossible to deny. I can't begin to guess who is with him, and my mind reels with confusion. I contemplate leaving, or at least peeking under the blindfold, but resist out of fear.
Could it be Scarecrow? Or Maroni? Some other villain that stalks the streets of Gotham?
I remember the unique way the Joker tugged as we came here. Almost as if, he was pulling someone.
Could he have another hostage?
That seems possible. But who could it be? Why would he have this person?
I hear a door shut down the hallway, and the Joker's returning footsteps. He is chuckling gleefully to himself, and I fight the urge to demand to know who was with him, and why he went to such lengths to hide them from me.
A small part of me wonders if that person had to be blindfolded as well.
I tug the tie off of my face, and find him standing in front of me. If he already wasn't so eccentric and weird, it would be creepy.
His eyes are filled with mischief, as if he is waiting for me to ask a question. I get the feeling that he wants me to ask about the other person, but out of immature spite, I've changed my mind. After a moment, he tilts his head slightly, and I get the creeper vibe again. I don't know why he isn't saying anything, and it really is weird.
"What?" I say, a little irritated by his stare.
"Ooh, oh, nothin'." He smiles.
"Here." I throw his tie in his face and turn around, expecting his blade to find my throat again.
He just laughs for a few moments, and I scowl.
"Oh, uh, Lane?" He says lightly.
"What?"
"I need a-uh, favor." He smiles, and I repress a shudder. "I need you to uh, stay here, for a bit and watch out for me."
"Where are you going? I thought it wasn't safe?"
"It's not." He says simply. "But who do you think would fare better against Batman? Me, or you?" He looks at me as if I am a child, and I feel flickers of anger brush down my spine.
"I believe I held my own pretty well the other night." I say. "I may not be as good as you, but I'm not defenseless."
"Ah, Thanks for the-uh, compliment, Lane." He smiles and takes a step closer. "I didn't realize just how much you thought about me." He is standing above me, and I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. My mind doesn't know whether to feel angry or intrigued, and I look down for a second.
The knife is at my throat before my eyes see the floor, and his hand grabs my hair and pulls it back harshly so that I am looking back up at him. I gasp in a mix of surprise and pain, and glare up to his smiling face. I push his against his chest with both hands, and before I know it, he pushes me onto the floor in front of him.
"Let's just test those skills of yours, Lane." He seems to be having fun, and it makes me even more angry. I push myself off the floor and he roughly shoves me down again. His laugh echoes off the walls, and reminds me of the fear I used to feel towards him.
I start to get up, when he kicks me in the stomach roughly, rolling me over onto my back. My stomach clenches in pain as I suck in a gasp of air, and I see him crouch above me. He smiles down, as if proving a point and says,
"See? Told ya, Lane. And he wouldn't go easy on ya, like I am."
Indignation fills my stomach, and I sit up, hunching my shoulders in mock defeat.
"You're right." I say sadly.
"Well, duh, Lane." He comes up behind me, and I lunge to try and hit his leg. Before I even get close to making contact however, I am on the ground again, scowling at the ceiling.
"Give up yet?" He says smugly. "Or do you want me to get out my knives?" He leers above me, smiling, and I cross my arms.
"Fine." I say. "Whatever." I sit up and wince as my stomach cramps where he kicked me.
He pats my head roughly, and turns around quickly. Before I can pick myself off the floor, he is already out the door, and I mutter incoherently to myself.
I brush the dirt off my front and pause. What was I even thinking? Why would I challenge the Joker like that? I'm lucky I'm not seriously injured. Or dead. I shake my head stumped. I hav eno idea where my boldness came from.
My stomach growls, and I remember just how hungry I am. I sigh, and am conflicted. I can't afford to even begin hoping or expecting the Joker to bring back food, but it is hard not to want to hope.
Although...
Why should I rely on him to do all of the work? I'm an adult too. And I could be gone and back before he even noticed. But why should I worry about that? Why even bother to come back at all? If I got out now, I could get my life back. Maybe not here in Gotham, but maybe in a different city. The police could help me get there, and I could get a new name.
I look at the door and take a small step.
Wait.
What sort of life am I even trying to get back? A crappy little salary from writing obituaries, and a living in the bad side of town because I can't afford anything better? It seems like all I have tried to do since I got here was to go back, but I've never asked myself what there really is to go back too.
This time with the Joker has been terrifying and life altering. I can't exactly just leave here and go back to "normal." So what choice do I honestly have? Escape and either be captured and brought back here, or somehow miraculously make it out and live a terrible and depressing life?
Which is the better option?
I walk to the door, and poke my head outside. The Joker is nowhere in sight, and I have no idea how long he plans on being gone. Oh well, a person can only go so long without food, and if he catches me, he catches me.
I head away from the building at a brisk pace, and decide to try to keep track of where I'm going so that I can find my way back. One left, two rights, and another left later, I am still surrounded by empty warehouses, and wonder if this was really a bad idea. I'm just going to end up getting lost out here, and probably abducted by someone else.
I sigh, and round a right corner, determined to turn around if I don't see a change. I walk for a block, and see cars pass by on a road up ahead. Smiling, I quicken my pace, and want to laugh at my success. When I make it to the road, I recognize that I am on the smaller side of Gotham, not exactly the narrows, but close. I see the familiar golden arches of a McDonald's to the west one block, and start to move toward it when I realize that I have no money.
Why didn't I think of that before I left? I smack my forehead in frustration. I made it all the way here, and am now going to be forced to go back hungry. Great.
I am about to turn when I realize that I really need to use the bathroom. I almost want to laugh at the fact that my life is so completely surreal now and I have to pee. Wow. I shrug, and head for the McDonald's anyway.
I walk through the doors, and meet the shocked looks of the cashiers and patrons. A woman sitting with two children grabs their hands, and half-drags them out of the restaurant, her wide eyes never leaving mine. What? Am I that hideous?
I look down and realize that I'm still in that suit. Great. Just what I needed to blend in. I touch my face and feel the dry cracked paint, and realize that although these people know I'm not the Joker, (duh.) they are probably guessing I'm connected with him, and are getting out before he gets here.
I just continue walking to the back. I ignore the whispered conversations, and am now in a hurry. If one of them calls the police or something, then my little escapade will be over before I really even make any progress. When I'm done, I walk back out, and find that all of the patrons have left. I figure the employees all scattered too, when someone from the back walks out of the kitchen area carrying a paper bag. He's wearing a hair net, and I figure he must be one of the cooks.
"Hey, Ryley! I told'ya order forty-five was ready! Whaddo I hav'ta-" He freezes mid-sentence when he sees me, and his eyes go wide with shock. "W-who are you?" He stammers.
I ignore him, and focus on the bag. The smell of the restaurant has set my stomach to growling, and I feel desperate.
"What's in the bag?" I ask.
He seems surprised by my question, and looks down as if he had forgotten he was holding it. "Uh...A..." After a moment, he gives up and throws the bag in the air. I watch its spinning arc, and it lands close to me on the floor. I look back to where the man was standing, and after a delayed moment, I realize he's run away too.
I feel a little depressed to realize I have literally cleared the restaurant, but ignore it because the bag grabs my whole attention. I pick it up, and peek inside. A Big Mac with fries. My mouth waters at this rare treat. I turn, and walk out of the building, a small smile growing on my face.
A bright flash makes me jump and look up, and I see a man running away with an almost professional looking camera. He almost looks familiar, and after a moment, I realize that I've seen him before around work in the past. Oh no. They are going to put my picture in the newspaper! I hit my forehead again with frustration. I was never going to get my life back now.
I only have one option it seems.
I retrace my steps back to the warehouse, and walk through the doors depressed and a little angry. I sit down on the floor, and eat my sandwich, feeling conflicted about the people I scared earlier. I don't even know how to begin describing my feelings. I feel bad, but I also feel a little invigorated. I did something that no one had any part of. I made my own decision and was successful. No Bruce Wayne, Batman, or even the Joker had any part. Ha.
Thinking about the Joker makes me wonder. I have no idea what brought me back here. I had my chance to escape and I blew it. I should be upset. I should be depressed. But I'm not.
What does that mean?
I eat the rest of my meal in silence, and jump when I hear a vehicle outside. My eyes go wide, and I find myself almost hoping that it's the Joker. He didn't leave with a car, but it's possible he went and got one right? I jump to my feet, and run to the side of the room. I see a thin, metallic ladder, leading to a sort of catwalk above the room. I climb up it quickly, and stay on top of the catwalk where I can see the entire room beneath me.
I hear a car door open, then close, and the sound of someone getting close to the warehouse doors. The warehouse door creaks open, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It is the Joker.
He walks inside, muttering to himself, and after a few steps, he freezes. He sniffs the air dramatically, and he looks over at the bag I left on the floor. He stares at it for one long second, and then chuckles darkly. It is half-angry, and half-amused, but its echoes spear me to the rails. There is something in that quiet laugh that promises violence.
As if on cue, he looks up at me as if he knew that I would be here. I swallow nervously, and can't look away from his dark eyes. He tilts his head to the side, and twists his mouth up in a dark and lopsided smirk.
"Lane?" He asks slowly.
"Um, yeah?" My voice is barely louder than a whisper, and it seems to give him some satisfaction. His eyes spark, and he takes a step in my direction slowly.
"What is that?" He gestures back to the crumpled bag.
So much for my feelings of accomplishment and success. "A bag." I say quietly. I try and think of ways to get away. There has to be another ladder somewhere right?
"Where did it come from, Lane?" His voice reminds me of a reprimanding father.
"McDonald's." I whisper, weighing my chances of escape versus his chances of catching me.
"Hmm." He takes another step, and I can't help the shiver of fear that spreads down my back. "Does McDonald's, uh, deliver?"
"No." I mumble, edging along the catwalk slowly away from the ladder.
"Then how, uh, exactly did you get it? Hmm? Did it just appear here?"
His words bring the image of the shaking cook to my mind. His fear had made me smile! What kind of person smiled at fear they inflicted on others? I feel disgusted and frown.
Anger comes bubbling back up, and I am filled with a wave of bravery and confidence. "No." My voice comes out clear and strong, and it seems to take him by surprise. I take advantage of his momentary silence and continue. "I left today and guess what? I went to a McDonald's. Got a problem with that? Cuz I don't. I'm sick and tired of people making my decisions for me! So this is what I'm going to tell you Mr. Joker. I left, and I had every right too. And I came back. So obviously, there is no issue. Chillax." I breathe a little angry huff, and look down at him, waiting for some reaction. I don't know whether to expect anger or shock, but I'm definitely not expecting applause.
His hands clap together and his laugh rings with mockery. "Very good, Lane." He says between giggles. "Now what?"
"What do you mean?" My voice has returned to normal in confusion.
"What are you expecting me to do about it? You sound pretty intent on puh-roving your point. Now the only question is what you are going to do if I have no intention of listening. Hmm? Did you, uh, think, that far ahead?" He takes another step closer, and waits for my answer.
I realize that if I go on and tell him some crap about how I'm supposed to be my own person or something, it will just sound stupid. I should have kept my big mouth shut, because the one thing I'm learning about him, is that if you give him a chance to get in your head, you don't have a prayer of winning your battle against him.
My feelings of bravery and confidence waver, and I walk toward the ladder. If there is one thing that I'm going to keep, it's my dignity. And I would much rather climb down rather than have him come up here and throw me off or something.
I climb down the rungs quickly, and try to ignore his smug laugh. It grates on my nerves, and I try to keep calm. I turn to face him, and he saunters over to me in four smooth strides.
"Oh, Lane," His voice is mocking, "I'm sorry your pretty little speech didn't work. And you know, I have a few things to say-uh, in response." His voice turns cold in the end and his facial expression is a harsh mix between anger and excitement.
He grabs my hair and yanks it back, pulling me against him. His hot breath washes over my face, and his eyes are wild yet controlled at the same time. He turns quickly, pulling me around to look at the forgotten bag several yards away.
"You see that, Lane?" He starts, "That bag is called disobedience. And you know what happens to people that are disobedient?" The cold blade pressed against my throat is expected, and surprisingly, I don't feel any fear. All I feel is anger, and even a touch of boredom with his speech. It feels repetitive.
I sigh dramatically, and he spins me around to face him. His face is so shocked, it's actually funny. A surprised giggle escapes my lips, and I press them together tightly, finally fearing his reaction. He looks at me for a moment, and literally drops the blade to the ground. It clangs on the cement, and I am suddenly filled with a wave of confusion. I don't really like the slightly wild look in his eye, and after an awkward moment, I try to shove him off.
"Where are you, uh, going Lane?" He has composed himself, and he laughs lightly.
"Let me go." I say flatly. His body is too close, and the warmness of his body is distracting and I'm not sure I can keep my self-control and dignity this close to him.
He chuckles darkly. "I don't think-uh, I will, Lane. Unless of course, you can make me." He grips my arms even tighter, and the pain only fuels my anger. I stomp on his foot, and his loud laughter adds to my frustration. "You'll have to try better than that, Lane."
"Let me go!" I say loudly, pushing against him.
"Do I not, frighten you anymore?"
I continue pushing and try to wriggle out of his firm grasp with no success. He grabs my face with one hand, and holds it right in front of his own.
"Look at me." I meet his eyes grudgingly, and he smiles when I comply. "There we go, Lane. Was that so hard? Now I ask you again. Don't I scare you anymore?"
I'm not sure how to answer. Right now I'm kind of afraid, but it is only fear of his knife, which he dropped. The only emotion I feel towards him is anger, so I shake my head slowly, narrowing my eyes.
He throws me onto the floor, and looks down at me, speculating.
"Lane? You know one thing I just don't, understand about you? That you can never decide who's side you're on! When I take you, you try to run. When Batman takes you, you do run, when I give myself up, you go to Scarecrow to 'rescue' me." He starts pacing around me slowly. "I tell you to stay, and you disobey me, and go outside. Then, when you have all the freedom in the world, you come back? What could possibly be going on inside that little head of yours? Hmm?"
My eyes flash up to meet his, and I scowl. All of his words are true. I've done all of those things. But the one thing he doesn't know is that I am just as clueless to the reason as he is.
He pauses, and watches me, and after a moment, seems bored. He turns and starts walking away from me, laughing quietly to himself.
"That's what I thought, Lane. There's nothing going on in that little head of yours except a sad case of hero worship. I'm flattered. Honestly."
I'm on my feet in less than a second, running at him. He has to hear me, but doesn't turn. He only pauses and I realize that I've fallen for his games again. I smack into his back, and he lets out a wild cackle as I bounce off, and hit the floor. The rage has me back on my feet in an instant, and I run back at him, intent on doing some sort of damage. He lets me smack into him, and laughs as I hit him wildly. Angry tears form in my eyes, and I feel out of control. He has successfully gotten into my head and released this half-mad side of me that I never dreamed existed.
"Hero worship?" I yell. "You call this madness, hero worship!? Well your dead wrong!" I turn away from him, and the blow to the back of my head knocks me forward several feet. I turn, just in time to see his arm swing wildly toward my face, and the bright stars as he backhands me. He grabs the front of my jumpsuit and pulls me up to his face.
"Poor, Lane. I didn't mean to ruin your little fantasy. Forgive me?" His sarcastic laugh takes all of the emotion out of his previous words as he shoves me away from him. I stumble backwards, trying to maintain my balance, and he slides forward, grabbing me again. My head snaps back with the sudden stop, and I feel dizzy. "But still, I'm honestly curious. Why did you ever come back for me, Lane? Hmm?"
I have no answer. I can't even begin to figure it out for myself. I've asked myself that question multiple times today, and still don't know.
He shakes me roughly, making my head throb, and growls, "I'm waiting, Lane."
"I don't know." I say quietly, anger finally beginning to ebb. "I just don't know."
Everything is quiet for a moment, and then his eyes light up in excitement. "Ohh, hoo hoo, Lane. I think I know." He laughs, and I just stare at him blankly. After a moment, he leans forward, and his mouth grazes my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "We all have crushes, Lane."
"What?" I jerk back, and my head pulses in response. "I do not have a crush on you! You're such a twisted psychopath!"
"We'll see." He smiles mischievously, and lets me go. He turns away from me, and for a moment, all I can comprehend is the relief of being unharmed and left alone.
Out of nowhere, he spins back around and grabs my arms.
"Hey-" He cuts off my protest by crushing his mouth against mine in a rush. My eyes open widely, and I immediately try to shove him off. His lips move quickly over mine, and I suck in a shocked breath. Before I realize my mistake, his tongue slides into my open mouth, keeping it from closing. My body locks down from the shock, and my hands drop to my sides.
He doesn't like my lack of response, and pushes his body closer to mine, grabbing my hands in the process. He puts one of them on his shoulder, and the other one on his chest. I can feel his quick heartbeat through his shirt, and my knees suddenly feel like jello.
His tongue slides over my teeth, and the feeling is so unexpected that I jerk my head back. He moves with me though, and proceeds to walk forward, pushing me backwards until my back hits the wall. He opens his eyes and sees me staring at him, and after a moment, covers my eyes with one of his gloved hands. If I didn't feel weird before, I definitely did now. I try to turn my face away from his, and he just moves to kiss my jawline and neck.
Gah-!
I can't help the gasp that comes out when he finds the one ticklish spot I have under my chin. He stops for a moment, laughing quietly to himself. I try to fight the shivers down my spine, and try to take his hand off my face.
He presses it harder onto my eyes so that it is almost painful and grabs my waist, pushing himself against me. My mind feels chaotic. It can't process everything that is going on. One second, I was fighting him, and the next I was letting him kiss me?
"I told you, Lane." His voice is husky in my ear, and it sends a thrill of fear through my stomach. "It happens to all of us." He takes his hand away from my eyes, and my vision is completely filled with his face. He is smirking at me, and his eyes are alight with a spark of the chaos I feel.
My world is still spinning. I can't think. I don't know how to answer this madman or even begin to believe his words. No. I'm not going to let him get to me again. I'm not sure what he sees in my facial expression, but whatever it is doesn't make him happy.
He backs away from me, taking me by the arm. All I can comprehend is my pulse hammering wildly in my ears. All my mind is capable of thinking is, What just happened?
I'm vaguely aware of him pulling me down a hallway, and then begin to try and focus on specifics. He pauses in front of a door, and opens it. I look up to him, confused, and he smirks again.
"Here, ya go, Lane. Apparently you need some time to, uh, think." He shoves me backwards roughly, and I stumble into the room, falling on my backside. Ouch.
The door slams and I am left alone. I sit there quietly for a few minutes, waiting for my mind to catch up, and my heart to slow down. When I feel a little more in control, I pick myself up slowly, and look around.
I'm in a shabby looking office, with an old desk, and a sad-looking chair. Everything is covered in dust, and there is a small window up near the ceiling. I see a filing cabinet, and walk over to it.
Bump.
I jump back a foot when the file cabinet is hit from behind. I don't see anything but the wall, and after a second, I move to the side to get a better look. A piece of plywood has been nailed to the wall, and is being covered with the cabinet. I pause for a moment, and listen.
Bump.
The cabinet definitely just moved. Something is on the other side.
Or someone...
I didn't see where the Joker took whoever he had with him, but he didn't go far from the main room. And he didn't take me far to get to this room, so it's possible that we could be right next to each other, right?
I take a few steps closer to the cabinet and softly call out, not wanting the Joker to hear me.
"Hello?"
Silence.
"Can you hear me?" I take another small step. When I am about to give up and look for something else helpful, something grabs my attention.
Tap.
A different noise than the first, but it still comes from behind the cabinet. Rather than pushing against it, whoever is behind there is tapping a response to me. I smile at my success.
"Are you alright?" I ask quietly.
Tap.
"One tap for yes, and two for no, okay?"
Tap.
Awesome. I am officially successful so far. I decide that I need to help this person. Maybe if we both work together, we can figure out a way to do... Something. I guess I don't have a real plan, but the crave for company (besides the Joker) is nearly overwhelming.
I move over to the cabinet, and grab the edge. I pull on the edge, and my stomach twists in pain from the Joker's earlier kick. He must have bruised me. I sigh, and grab the edge again, pulling harder, and trying to ignore the pain. After a few moments, it moves forward with a screech, and I stop, fearing the Joker will hear me. I count to sixty in my head, and hearing no one coming, and decide to continue slowly. I pull it softer, and inch by inch, get it further away from the wall.
After there is about two feet in between the cabinet and the plywood on the wall, I stop.
"I'm going to help you get out, okay?" I say quietly.
Tap.
The nails aren't firm, and I suspect the only thing really keeping the plywood divider on the wall was the cabinet itself.
"I need you to push, okay?"
Tap.
"On the count of three then. One. Two, three!"
I pull against the edge of the wood, and it comes out, one corner at a time. The last corner seems stuck, and after a moment, I give it a rough tug.
The board rips away from the wall with a quiet snap, and I set it against the cabinet. I small scuffling sound brings my attention back to the hole, and I see somebody crouched on the other side.
"Hello." I say. "Are you alright?"
The woman leans forward into the light and I can't help but think she looks familiar. She has blonde hair, and bright blue eyes behind glasses. I've seen her somewhere before but I just can't place it.
"Do I know you?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.
She looks at me shyly and asks, "Yeah. You took my jacket, remember?"
Oh my gosh! The woman the Joker had me rob! He still has her hostage? Why?
I gasp and say, "I am so sorry! I really had no choice! Please forgive me!"
"That's alright." She says. "I'm used to seeing all sorts of wild things in my patients. You have nothing to worry about."
"Your... Patients?" I'm confused. She looks a little young to be a doctor.
"Allow me to introduce myself." She smiles. "My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I'm a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum."
Yay, for cliff-hangers! :D :D
Review! Do it! You know you want too... :) :) :) :)
And not to mention it would make my entire day to hear what you thought. Just saying.