Okay! Chapter 13. Sorry it took so long. I watched the movie tonight, thanks to connections with someone who works at a video store. It was as awesome as ever!
All I can say about this chapter is BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I hope you like it.
Listen to Split Needles by the Shins. I love the Shins.
And remember.
There is always a wall. : )
REVIEWS! TELL ME IF YOU HATE IT!
This scene belongs to the Nolan brothers, body and soul.
Jess's heart started pounding as soon as she climbed into the van, and only beat harder the closer they got to pulling up in front of a grand apartment building across town.
Apart from Jess and the Joker, only five men had come along, though Blake had mentioned that there were quite a few mobsters already waiting in Wayne's building as backup. The members of the Lucky Twenty were hidden behind white clown masks and Jess's face felt very bare given the circumstances. It was true that her makeup made her less recognizable, but anyone could clearly see her features.
The Joker, once again the man she knew in white greasepaint and red lipstick, didn't seem bothered by her exposed visage, however, so she tried to abandon the thought and focus instead on what was going to happen once they arrived.
From the van to the penthouse, time was blurred. They parked in a back alley and Jess was hurried from the vehicle, none too gently, by one of the Twenty; she thought he might have been Blake but she couldn't see his face. No one was speaking. As though it was natural for them, the group followed the Joker into the building without a word, meeting little resistance from the doorman, who was a mobster, and simply shooting the host at the front desk.
Jess squeezed her eyes shut before the gun went off and tried not to see the empty air where the man had recently been. She wasn't sure who had killed him—it hadn't been the Joker—but she was coming to terms with the fact that these men now had no qualms against using a gun. The guy beside her gave her a bracing pat when she opened her eyes. Swallowing her terror, deciding not to think at all for the next hour—just watch, absorb, maybe learn—Jess put on a brave face and loped after the Joker, into an elevator, and up to the penthouse suite.
When they exited the lift, three young security guards and a robust police officer greeted them with shocked expressions. They let out little yells as they ran forward, pulling their guns, but mobsters appeared from the corridors to either side and, with startling ease, knocked out the three young men and detained the fat cop.
The Joker giggled and sauntered up to him.
"Detective…" he pushed his finger against the sweaty man's badge and he let out a little whimper. Jess kind of felt sorry for him. "...Wuertz. You wanna help crash a party?"
Wuertz almost said something impertinent, but the Joker simply showed him his double-barreled shotgun and the hostage was nodding quickly. Gun to his head, the Joker led the cop to the double doors, through which the noises of a large gathering of people could clearly be heard. The clown ordered him to knock and soon the doors were opened by a distinguished looking gentleman with white hair, carrying a tray of champagne glasses.
Jess, and a few of the other Twenty, let out little gasps as they put together that this was Alfred. Jess grinned. He looked exactly like Michael Caine.
She sometimes had to wonder if these celebrities weren't just playing an elaborate prank on her or something.
That seemed almost more far-fetched than being sucked into an alternate movie-verse from the mind of Christopher Nolan.
…
No.
No, it didn't.
She was startled out of her thoughts when the Joker pulled the trigger on the gun and, with a deafening bang, shot a hole in the ceiling.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the room at large, strolling in like he frackin' owned the place. "We are… tonight's entertainment!"
The present members of the Lucky Twenty filed after him. You could hear a pin drop; the guests stood shocked and still. Jess decided to lay low, simply watch the proceedings, so she found a niche by the door and backed into it. The crowd near her slunk away and she smiled widely at them, actually having a little fun despite herself. These plastic yuppies had probably never been so scared in their lives.
She scanned the crowd. Where was Bruce Wayne?
Meanwhile, the Joker was busy intimidating the guests, asking lightly for Harvey Dent and blatantly displaying his knife.
"Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?"
Everywhere he turned, people backed away in disgust or terror, only widening the smile on his face.
Approaching a bald man, he asked, "Where is Harvey? I need to talk to him about something, just something little…" He placed his hand on top of the man's head and turned it, muttering "no…"
Jess giggled, amused with how horrifically playful he was. Her laugh attracted a revolted sneer from a woman beside her and Jess promptly flipped her off, stepping forward, the better to observe the Joker in action. No one really paid her much mind. She, after all, was certainly not the center of attention.
"Y'know," the Joker said, draining a glass of champagne, "I'll settle for his loved ones."
A distinguished old gentleman emerged from a group of spectators, determined bravery etched on his wrinkled face.
"We're not intimidated by thugs," he announced.
The Joker stopped, popped an olive from a nearby tray into his mouth and turned to look at the old man curiously, a little affectionately.
"Y'know," he said, chewing the olive, "you remind me of my father." He placed the tray on the table beside him and glanced back at it before, as an afterthought, knocking it off the platform with a crash. His smile turned rapidly into a scowl and he lunged at the old man, drawing his little pocket knife to his cheek. "I hated my father."
The blade pressed against the man's mouth, about to make its signature cut when...
"Okay, stop." A female voice rang out above the Joker's, and the criminals froze like guilty children, astonished that someone had actually called them out. Unperturbed, only a bit amused, the Joker spun to look at the interloper, tilting his head to one side.
She was of average height, thin and pretty in a regular way. Her brown hair was coiffed stylistically on top of her head and she had wide, dark brown eyes. Her fists were clenched in terror but otherwise she appeared perfectly unafraid, not betraying so much as a flinch when the Joker started towards her.
Jess was impressed. She still couldn't stand his eyes on her for more than a moment before she felt like sprinting as fast as possible in the opposite direction. But she had lived with fearful people long enough to know that this woman was simply bubbling with panic; her clenched fists and set jaw told her so. And the Joker saw this too.
"Well, hello beautiful," he purred, his tone a little surprised.
Jess frowned, not sure how she felt about that greeting. She knew he was just intimidating her, trying to force her to show her fear—one thing he loved to see—but he'd never called Jess beautiful…
Oh God! What was she thinking? Of course he wouldn't call her that! And she would never want him to.
All the same, though… He'd only just met this woman. If he gave away compliments so freely, why didn't Jess ever receive one?
Because there was never anything but hostility between them! Because she hated him!
Did she?
Yes!
Oh. Right.
Oh, don't even start! Look at him! He was gross!
Right! Absolutely. He was a villain.
Exactly.
So being jealous of this woman was ridiculous.
She was not jealous! She wasn't even thinking about him.
Right.
She was thinking about…
Bruce Wayne!
Right!
Where was he?
The Joker had moved up to the girl, and her eyes widened.
"You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you are beautiful…" he muttered.
Jess pursed her lips but didn't allow it to get to her. There was no reason it should've. It wasn't as if she wanted anything to do with him…
The Joker began circling the woman, head cocked to the side, and she hunched her shoulders, trying to keep him within her line of vision. When he came back around, he studied her face and frowned, mock concern painting his expression.
"You look nervous," he said ironically.
Jess was torn between laughing and crying. On one hand, he was toying mercilessly with this innocent lady, but on the other hand, it was all kind of amusing. And she had asked for it by speaking up. Didn't they know that bravery got you nowhere with the Joker?
"Is it the scars?" he asked, as though that was the only thing he could think of that could possibly be upsetting her. "You wanna know how I got 'em?"
Jess's ears perked up and she leaned forward subconsciously, wanting to hear this sad story for herself. What the Joker said, however, caught her off guard.
"Come here." He hesitantly reached up and grabbed the woman's face, trying to maintain eye contact. "Hey. Look at me." Jess intuitively felt her own cheek, remembering when he'd done much the same thing to her. "So, I had a wife—she was beautiful, like you—who tells me I worry too much. Who tells me I oughta smile more. Who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks. Hey!" He forced the woman to meet his eyes and went on, his voice lowering.
"One day they carve her face. We've got no money for surgeries. She can't take it." He pressed the blade of his knife to the woman's cheek and she flinched. The Joker continued. "I just wanna see her smile again. Hmm? I just want her to know, I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this," he turned his head to let the girl get a good look at his "smile," "to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me." His voice broke as he said that and Jess's heart ached with pity before she could remind herself who he was. His expression was unfathomable. He was laughing… or crying. "She leaves! Now I see the funny side." He released the woman's face and backed away a fraction of an inch. "Now, I'm always smiling!"
Well. This wasn't the story Jess had been told by Billy. The Joker had completely flip-flopped his past, which, albeit, was right within the lines of his character.
The woman took this opportunity to brazenly punch him in the stomach. He wheezed and stumbled back a step, but returned with a grin.
"A little fight in ya," he said. "I like that."
Suddenly, a dark shape appeared to his side. Jess saw it a fraction of a second before anything happened, but before she could cry out a warning, the shape spoke:
"Then you're gonna love me."
Jess let out a little yell of shock as the Joker was pummeled backwards by the shape, and suddenly the members of the Lucky Twenty rushed at the hero, their forms obscuring Jess's view. She cried out as the room erupted into pandemonium, the Joker's men attacking the cloaked figure while he tried to fight them off. Jess was pushed away by one of the clowns, a protective shove meant to distance her from the fighting, but she stepped forward, perilously curious to see the person she now knew was Batman.
He was even more impressive close up, in action. He was able to keep the men at bay one by one, punching and knocking them to the ground. Jess was impressed at how daringly the Lucky Twenty threw themselves at him, and even more impressed at his extensively trained technique. He elbowed one man in the chest, then spun around and in the same movement palmed and broke the nose of a mobster, immediately turning again to twist the arm of one of the clowns around until he fell.
A group of them rushed him at once, slowing him for a moment, and the Joker used this opportunity to kick Batman fiercely in the gut. This only seemed to enrage him as he flung out a heavy arm and knocked the Joker away.
The Joker stumbled back a few steps, his path taking him to Jess's side. His dark eyes flicked her way, but she only spared him a second-long look before turning her awed attention back at the Caped Crusader, who was now working to thin the knot of men around him. With a little growl, the Joker stamped and a short silver blade popped out of the toe of his black boot. He cast another look at Jessica, as though to make sure she was watching, then raced at Batman, jamming his foot—and, by association, the blade—between two plates in the armor on the hero's abdomen.
This seemed to give the Crusader all the adrenaline he needed and he reared up, his rage enhanced by the small but irritating injury the Joker's knife had done him. He went to work, punching and blocking and breaking arms and Jess backed away, frightened that he might turn on her. But his attention was nowhere near her small presence, spent as he was on the men still attacking him with nearly reckless abandon… Much, Jess noted, like their boss.
One man ducked around behind Batman while his concentration was distracted and pulled him into a strenuous headlock. From the auburn hair peeking out around the mask, Jess realized with a jolt that this brave clown was Billy!
Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she was rooting for Batman anymore.
With Billy's involvement, Jess was immediately conflicted. He'd become, in this short time, a powerful force in her life; her most trusted adviser and closest friend. She loved and depended on him and she knew that whatever he did was in the right because he was a good person. She knew that.
But here he was, attacking Batman with the rest of them, allowing the Joker to get a few good hits at him before the hero had slipped out of the pose, grabbed Billy's arm and snapped it like a twig over his broad shoulder.
Jess let out a cry of horror as Billy went down in pain and the Joker staggered backwards, surprised by his adversary's newfound freedom. Rage flaring, she ran for Billy, mindless of the fighting, desperate to contact and comfort him as he supported his injured arm.
Batman tripped over her as she knelt to crawl the last foot to Billy, spinning around, giving the Joker just enough time to act.
Jess reached Billy on her hands and knees and cradled his head, gingerly avoiding touching his arm. He was making little noises of pain as she dragged him to the side of the room, pressing her back against the wall, well away from Batman. She ripped away his clown mask, clearing up the passage for fresh air, and his eyes met hers, trying to control his face and conceal the pain he obviously felt.
She glanced down at his arm and watched red blood seep through his sleeve, the jagged splinter of bone raising it slightly. He winced at her gasp of dismay and whispered that it was going to be okay because they'd get to a doctor soon and he'd be fine. Jess gaped at him, amazed that even now, with his own bone poking through his arm, Billy was being the brave one. She kissed his forehead, wiping away the sickly, adrenaline-produced perspiration there.
Meanwhile, the Joker had gotten hold of the woman he had intimidated before—he grabbed her around the waist, a little revolver at her neck, and forced her back towards the large story windows overlooking the city.
Batman stopped in his tracks.
"Drop the gun," he ordered, his voice a growling bark.
"Oh, sure," the Joker said, his hand flying up to emphasize his words. The woman flinched as the weapon whizzed past her face. "You just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are!"
He reached back then and shot out one of the huge floor-to-ceiling panes of glass. Wind filled the room, whipping up the hair of the frightened woman in the Joker's grasp as he flung her back, his grip on her wrist the only thing keeping her from toppling out of the high-rise window.
"Let her go," Batman ordered.
Even as he said it, Jess knew what the Joker's next line would be.
"Very poor choice of words," he cackled. With a push, the woman was falling.
She screamed as she fell, and Batman sprinted forward immediately, launching himself from the window and sliding down the roof after the girl.
The Joker sprang into action. He was laughing hysterically, motioning distractedly for his men to follow him. They did readily, going as fast as they could on sprained ankles, nursing their injured bones, stifling the blood oozing out of cuts from Batman's plated forearms. Jess pulled Billy up as rapidly as she dared and supported him out of the all-but-silent ballroom.
The group hustled down a back hallway, into the emptied kitchen, and out a back door to the deserted alleyway beyond. The van was parked just around the corner and two men sprinted ahead to start it up. Sirens could be heard from the streets beyond the buildings on either side—doubtlessly the product of a hundred secret phone calls and panicked text message to the cops—but the Joker had chosen a very good escape route. This little lane was completely obscured from the main arterials.
Jess patted Billy's back, slowing down as the men began to descend the stairs that led from the building to street level. The Joker was humming; he had been, in the charade of a gentleman, holding the heavy metal door open for each person to exit. Billy and Jess were the last from the building, so the Joker let the door swing shut behind them and followed closely on their tail. Billy started making his way gingerly down the concrete steps, trying not to jostle his injury, and broke away from Jess, grabbing the hand rail for support instead.
The Joker was as whimsical as one could imagine. He seemed to be in a very good mood, even though they hadn't actually found Dent, and Jess paused on a step to watch in a sort of interested disgust as he slowly spun his way down the stairs, humming a tune she had never heard—probably one he had just made up. His eyes were closed, blissful, and he danced by her leisurely, pirouetting when he reached the gritty alley ground.
Jess shook her head and stepped out onto the street, watching him dance and giggle his way to the corner where the men waited with the van. Billy was there, wrapping his arm up in an old cloth, and Jess hurried to meet him, wanting to help staunch the flow of blood.
She started to hurry by the Joker, who seemed absolutely giddy. His giggle had turned into full on laughter and he made little skips in the air.
"Did you see?" he asked anyone who would listen. "Did you see the Batman in there? How he threw himself out the window… for that girl…"
The narrowness of the alley made it impossible for Jess to avoid him completely as she tried to slide past to the van. As per usual, however, he didn't let her pass.
His arm snapped out suddenly and he took hold of her wrist, pulling her back to him quickly. She resisted him for a moment, trying to twist her wrist out of his vice-like grip, but when his fingers tightened she gave up, allowing herself to stumble a step or two back. Catching the small of her back, he turned her around and, in the same motion, slammed her by the shoulders into the brick wall of the building beside them.
The men at the corner froze, on guard, watching to make sure he didn't hurt her, and Jess was about to turn to look at them and call that it was okay, because the Joker's eyes were merely giddy. There was no danger in them.
But she never got the chance.
The Joker stumbled against her and paused, his body pressed close—too close. She stilled as soon as she recognized the relevance of their pose, lifting her gaze to meet his.
His eyes had gone dark. Suddenly the gaiety was gone, replaced by a strange, shifting, volatile cloud of confliction. A paint stained, long fingered hand slowly rose to her cheek, cupping a little too roughly, his thumb sliding across her lips. He opened his mouth, maybe about to say something, but no words came.
Quickly, he licked the scar on his lower lip, looking shiftily to his side before settling that fiery stare back on her. Then, with absolutely no ado whatsoever, he brought his mouth down on hers.
The kiss lasted only a moment. Jess was too dazed to really do anything but stiffen in shock as his surprisingly soft lips pressed against her mouth—slightly open, awkward, shaky. She could feel every bump and imperfection of them, could taste the greasepaint he used.
His breath wasn't too bad, all things considered, though it did smell a little like alcohol. He tasted like lipstick, Vodka and possibly Cheerios, with some acrid chemical aftertaste, like a dry-swallowed pill. His hair smelled like charcoal and burnt matches and cigarette smoke and grease. It was a surprisingly tolerable mixture, though Jess didn't think about it for a second.
Overall, it was not a deep kiss but she did nothing to react, neither pulled away nor held him, too surprised, too unsure of what was happening.
He inhaled sharply through his nose and Jess couldn't be sure whether or not he was trying to breathe her in or had suddenly awakened from some dream.
He broke away, jumping like he'd been shocked, his mouth compressed into a firm line, and looked over to where the five other men were standing in appalled silence. Then he looked back to her pale, frightened face. Jess raised a hand to her tingling lips, absolutely stunned, a blush of total embarrassment sweeping over her face. The Joker stared hard at her, eyes suddenly furious and probing, looking her right in the face, craning his neck forward as though wanting to open her up and read her like a book.
Then, with a little growl of irritation, he pushed her shoulder away—slammed it back against the wall, really—and stalked toward the van, waving a hand at the men to get it started up and climbing into the passenger's seat.
Jess stood there for a while, back still pressed against the wall, mind furiously trying to unscramble this.
The Joker had just kissed her.
Okay.
She could understand that it had happened. She just couldn't for the life of her grasp why? Or how? And she couldn't possibly begin to probe the scariest question of them all: How did she feel about it?
She had no idea. How was she supposed to feel? She supposed she was a little annoyed at his presumptuousness and a little disgusted by the fact that he had wanted to, but…
There was excitement there. And fear, of course there was that. And confusion. What did he mean by it? And there was surprise. She was still frozen here, wasn't she? Shocked by what had happened. And completely embarrassed that the others had seen.
But there was also this sort of… Well, she wouldn't describe it as happiness, because it wasn't that. It wasn't. Oh, she was far from happy. It was more like… butterflies. There were butterflies in her stomach, the same as when she had first kissed a boy in the seventh grade. And that same heightened state of feeling and emotion.
But he was the Joker!
Jess hitched, feeling sobs of confusion and dread boil in her chest.
No more than ten seconds had passed since the Joker had climbed into the van, but Jess felt as though she had spent a lifetime against that wall, not wanting to face the world. This meant everything had changed. That feeling of semi-normalcy, of sort of-safety, was entirely absent. She was lost and alone and scared again. Why did he have to kiss her? Why, once again, did he have to ruin everything? It was like he got some sort of sick pleasure from it!
Jess was suddenly furious with him. How dare he! She'd been trying to make the best of this but now...
Now she didn't know what to do anymore.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the wall and ran to the van, hiding her face from Billy as she passed and climbed into the back. Jess spent the ride back concealing herself, and her tears, in the dark.