Yep I'm a bastard to make you wait for this... Sorry. Hopefully you enjoy the new chapter.
"You really don't want to be doing this." The Joker smiled, his neck stretched backwards to accommodate the awkward position he had been forced into. They both had a grip on the knife but their wrists couldn't take the strain much longer, it was like playing a game, seeing who would break first.
Gordon's hand slipped a bit on the handle and he tightened his fingers. The train was starting to rock, picking up speed.
"You know, you might want to listen to me at this point." Gordon's hand slid another few centimeters on the hilt of the knife, the Joker was now grabbing the blade his blood running rivers down the silver slope.
"I don't need to listen to a damn word, Joker." Gordon hissed, his voice rising over the sound of train wheels dragging across iron railings.
The Joker raised his eyebrows with a chuckle. "Actually, I think you'll find that you do."
Gordon stared mesmerized by that knife, only his fingertips were clinging to it but the blade had gone right to the bone of the Joker's fingers, blood was pouring over the weapon, making the grip on the damn thing harder.
Now the train was shaking, the only reason they hadn't fallen off was the fact that the Joker was holding onto the hook that connected the two cars together.
The wind was starting to beat at them both as the train picked up speed.
And the knife slipped out of both of their fingers and plummeted down to the city streets now almost a hundred feet below the train tracks.
The Joker had half turned to watch it fall, his eyes widening and a small hiss of anger on his lips. Gordon brought his elbow up quickly and smashed the Joker's chin upwards. The back of the clown's head it the train car's door with an echoing crack. The wind was rushing past the alcove between the two cars.
The Joker's leg kicked and Gordon slid backwards he was now hanging just above the rushing rails. The noise of the train was almost unbearable.
The Joker stood, swaying easily with the movement of the train, both of his hands were free, but at least he didn't have a knife.
There was no excitement that came from a roller coaster, there was no adrenaline rush, no life altering realization, no time for regrets or memories.
Just the feeling of everything dropping away. Just a tiredness that seemed to seep into his bones. He had lived for so long fearing this moment, but now it just seemed that wind was a pleasant breeze. The breath was being sucked of his lungs but he didn't need it much anyway, time had slowed to a crawl. And the Joker just stare at him. That ever present smile on the Joker's face had somehow disappeared, leaving behind something that wasn't quite human. It was a beautiful face, but beautiful in the way that an abstract painting will catch your eye and hold you captivated for hours.
But as soon as it had come it was gone and there was just the Joker, his hand dripping blood and his smile as mad and insane as ever.
"They're searching for you Gordon, Batsy's dead and Gotham's gone to hell!" The Joker was shouting over the roar of the train to be heard. He pushed his clumped hair out of his eyes, leaving a streak of red on his white forehead.
"That's what you wanted isn't it, you wanted to push Gotham, see when it would break." Gordon gasped, his head was straining, if he lowered it another inch it would be sucked to the rails.
"It came at too high a price Gordon, you think I wanted my victory so that when Gotham came to me Batman would have to choose. I'm a monster Gordon, not your common maniac."
The Joker reached out a hand to Gordon's head.
Oh, god, he's going to grind my head into the rail
The ominous hand had reached the Commissioners neck.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God
Gordon squeezed his eyes closed, he waited.
The hand pulled him up, up beck onto the safety of the cars, a little respite from the frostbite wind.
The Joker's eyes met Gordon's, he hadn't let go of the Commissioner's shirt. Those eyes were completely human, they were animals but people sometimes forget they are, when you get down to the basics, flesh, blood, hair, and instinct.
Sometimes you forget that souls might not exist.
And the Joker's eyes were bottomless, and if there were such things as souls, this man would have one. Villains aren't a different race from heroes, they just have different instincts.
Those eyes were burnt into Gordon's vision like black sunspots.
Even as he was flung outward, even as the Joker had thrown him off the train, as the sky turned to city, Gordon could feel those furious, unforgiving, and... anguished eyes.
It seemed like an endless moment, falling without time. But to the watcher's that weren't looking, there was just a man who fell like a rock, there was no romanticism, no back story. Just a stupid man who obviously couldn't deal with his problems.
How right they were...
Alfred opened the door, adjusting his suit as he did so. He served for the wealthiest and most mannered of Gotham. Vain little pricks who were just itching to point out any flaw in the perfect life of Bruce Wayne.
Well oiled doors swung inward without a squeak. Polished floors warmed in the flood of sunlight...and balloons.
Brightly colored globes exploded into the hall as he opened the door and Alfred took a smart step backwards.
"'Gram's are sent around to the back, you'll see the signs in the driveway." He told the riot of helium and plastic.
There was a pause and then a sort of half giggle. "I'm looking for Mr. Wayne."
"I'm afraid Master Wayne is rather indisposed at the moment." Alfred said searching for a face or form within the mass.
There was another pause and then the barrel of a gun appeared from within the cloud. "It's rather urgent."
The balloons drifted upwards and a man appeared, his suit rumpled and stained, his hair hanging in clumps like dreadlocks. His face paint had smeared, the black eyes bleeding into the white face to make exaggerated crows feet and deep pockets in his cheeks. It was as if a corpse had been hooked onto puppet strings.
He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild and his rather tasteless tie bloodstained. A police officer's cap was perched haphazardly on his head, with a large peacock feather sticking out of the band.
"I'm looking for Mr. Wayne." the Joker repeated.
Id like to say that the next chapter will be quick in coming but then again why would you trust me? Anyway I'm sorry again... I'd really appreciate a review.