TITLE: Dies Irae (Day of Wrath)
AUTHOR: Kichi
PAIRING: n/a
WARNINGS: M rated for violence, gore, trauma, swearing… ya know.
NOTES: AT BOTTOM (PLEASE READ)
ARCHIVE:
SUMMARY: Sequel to "Mask". The Joker has escaped Arkham. He is driven by hatred and vengeance, not the usual fun and games…
"If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared." – Niccolo Machiavelli 1469-1527
"Oh, ahaha hah ha-" Joker chortled only to break off coughing again. Jim could hear fluid rattling in his lungs. "The hell?" he snarled in annoyance, pounding his chest again.
"So what now? You sent your message. Batman will do everything he can to find you. Not that you made it any easier. Even I don't know where we are." Jim sighed tiredly. The sun was fully risen and he was exhausted. But the clown showed no signs of slowing down.
"The chase if half the fun, Jimmy-boy. And I have work yet to do. There are still a few fools out there who need… correcting." His tongue prodded a scar. Jim tensed. "Now, now. Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not referring to you, unless of course you try something… I have a little list of names and addresses. And I'm going to stop at each of these places and pay my friends a visit. And as I do you are going to be a good boy and stay where I put you. Now, I can't be going out in the day like this.. unfortunately. So.." he stood and peeled off his outer coats, his waist-coat, his tie and shirt and disappeared from view. A few moments later Jim heard water running.
A young man emerged a few minutes later, hair dripping wet in dark blonde ringlets. His wicked smile and pink scars caught his attention and he was again shocked at how young Joker appeared. He was wearing torn jeans and held a black t-shirt in his fist.
"Now, do you want to come with or stay here?" Joker asked. "You can stay but you'll be covered head to toe in duct tape, and I assume you wouldn't enjoy that much. Or you can ride in the trunk of my car- what's it gonna be?" Jim shrugged, he wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't want either option and the Joker knew it. "Eeeeeerrrr!" he cried, mimicking a buzzer. "Time's up, buddy. Duct tape it is!" He produced a brand new roll with a grin.
Bruce sat in front of several monitors. Each was analyzing the newest Joker footage. There were a few shots of their surroundings leading him to believe they were in a house. Slowing the frames and clearing them up was the only way he could attempt to discover their location. So far nothing useful had turned up. There were plenty of sections in Gotham with older houses. It looked to have been built in the fifties, which helped to narrow it down a lot. But he had to be sure, he needed a second opinion. He called Lucius Fox and sighed in relief when he answered.
"Lucius, I need your help."
"I've been watching the news."
"I thought you would be, I need help locating them. I've been cleaning up the video trying to make a few guesses at the location. Alfred is on his way, but I have to be sure, can you come down to the docks?"
"Of course." He thanked the man and hung up. Alfred would arrive any moment. Lucius would be of great help as well, he was sure. It looked as if a street sign was visible through one of the windows but he was having trouble making it out. He had come up with a few guesses as to what it might say, but he didn't want to act out of haste. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
Sam Harwald sat in his living room watching the news. He knew about the Joker's escape, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. He knew the mad man was inclined to blow things up, and generally cause as much chaos as possible. And he knew the best places to do it was down town. The more casualties the better. Sam lived in Old Gotham. It was a less-populated, more run-down section of Gotham. There wasn't much worth blowing up. And the thought of the Joker coming after him was laughable. He figured the Joker didn't even remember him. The boy had been doped up round the clock for the most part of his stay at Arkham. He'd drooled and puked from the meds for much of the time. And the few times he wasn't completely out of it, he was strapped up tight in a straight jacket and tossed in a padded room. The one time he was let out of his room to mingle with the others had been a disaster. He'd immediately fucked the prettiest girl in Arkham, which had galled quite a few guards. He had had to drag the boy to the medic ward after they had finished with him. That had been an ugly sight. He'd been vomiting blood upon himself as Sam and a newbie carted him down the hall on the stretcher.
Sam wasn't one for punishing patients, but he'd seen the effect the Joker had on his fellows. He had to be put in line before he ended up dead. When the young man had again attempted to escape, attacking Sam, Jason Markus, and Paul Faulk, they decided then and there to teach him a lesson he'd never forget. One they were sure would end his violence toward staff for fear of a repeated punishment.
It hadn't been originally their idea, but never the less it had been a good one. Andy Krekolankis was in for rape and murder. His preferred victims were young white men. It seemed like the perfect punishment. Especially when they'd heard of another young man who had come to a similar fate. He was a paranoid schizophrenic who refused his meds time and again and fought viciously with anyone who tried to administer them or restrain him. One trip to Andy's room had rendered him completely docile. Now he was timid and did whatever he was told. It was the ideal outcome. But it hadn't turned out that way in the Joker's case, apparently.
Yet it mattered little to Sam. He no longer worked at Arkham and in a few days he wouldn't even be in the country. By the time he got back the Batman would either kill the worthless son of a bitch or the cops would throw him right back into Arkham. He wasn't afraid.
He got up and went to the kitchen to grab another beer. He opened the can to take a sip and nearly choked on it when a hand gripped his hair and he felt something cold and sharp against his throat.
"Hey there… buddy." Snarled a cold voice in his ear. A voice he had heard only moments ago on TV. A voice he had heard scream in pain. He dropped the can and held his hands up in surrender as he felt piss trickle down his leg. The voice behind him began to laugh. "Already? We haven't even started playing yet." He laughed harder and spun Sam around, slamming him into the refrigerator.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sam began to babble at once.
"I can see that." The young man chuckled, and for a moment Sam blinked in confusion. Then he saw the awful scars and realized, indeed the clown had arrived.
"Please, I'm so sorry-" suddenly the young man's face contorted in rage and Sam felt white hot agony as the knife rammed into his stomach. He cried out in agony.
"Shut. Up." Joker snarled. "You disgust me. You dare lie to me?" Sam was crying and mumbling as his blood began to soak his shirt. "Liars are intolerable. I see you need something special. Now. Open your mouth." Sam's jaw locked and Joker rammed the butt of his knife against Sam's closed mouth, knocking several teeth out. The moment Sam opened his mouth to cry out something hard was shoved inside. It barely fit and he was choking on it and his blood as the younger man threw him to the floor and revealed a roll of duct tape. Sam tried to spit the thing out but the clown covered his mouth expertly with duct tape, and proceeded to wind the tape around his head several times.
Then he sat back to watch the man squirm in agony. He began to laugh as he wiped a few of Sam's tears away and examined them in the fading light.
"I haven't tears enough for what you've done to me. You should be proud of yourself. You should have gone on GCN and told the world. Of course, it was good you didn't. Then I would have to skin you alive. But instead-" he was on him slashing, stabbing, hacking at his flesh while Sam's muffled screams rang out. He tried to defend himself, but it was useless. His arms were covered in cuts as well and then suddenly they weren't working. Then the young man stood, panting. He began to choke. Sam couldn't see anymore, but he could still hear. "You think this is bad, but it will all be over soon I just have to make one phone call." He didn't hear the rest.
He climbed into his stolen car and pulled out into the street. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed. Sam Harwald, and his house, exploded. He grinned and burst into laughter as the explosion rocked his car, then drove off.
Jim Gordon awoke with a start and gasped in pain as duct tape was ripped off his face. The Joker smiled down at him, makeup in place, purple suit on.
"You know, I thought the Bat was smart and here it is already 24 hours since I caught you and he still hasn't shown up. What the hell do I have to do, give him written directions?" he broke off coughing again, this time the spasm lasted longer and by the end he was gasping. "Shit." He murmured in annoyance. Jim studied him closely. He was sweating and the makeup was already running. His eyes had a glazed look to them. When he coughed he sounded like someone who had smoked for years. Which would account for the horrible stains he'd had before they had gotten his dental records. Yet Jim had never seen him smoke, he'd never asked for a cigarette in his holding cell for the brief time he'd been in it. He'd read his files from Arkham; no drugs of any kind had been in his system upon admittance.
Perhaps God was going to show some mercy and gave him lung cancer. The thought almost made Jim smile. Joker held up a box of pizza. "Hungry?" he offered. Jim nodded the smell making his mouth water. "Ah, ah, ah." Joker chided, his tongue snaking out to prod a scar. "A few questions first." He began.
"Ok." Jim muttered, hunger motivating him.
"You have any guesses about the Bat? I mean, who he really is?" he asked through a mouthful of pizza.
"Not really.." Jim admitted. Joker gave him a blank stare then held up a piece of pizza. Jim took a huge bite, sighing with relief. Joker chuckled quietly.
"Why not?" Jim swallowed before admitting:
"I don't really care who he is." Joker raised one eyebrow as if to say: 'Oh, really?' "I was curious at first, but then he came to me, he put his trust in me. It didn't matter anymore."
"Aw, how sweet!" Joker gushed sarcastically. "Are you kidding me? I am just dying to know! Everyone is!"
"People are dying to know who you are, too." Joker scowled, his expression suddenly dark.
"Tough." He snapped. Jim was shocked to see a flash of pain in the young man's eyes. He dropped his pizza and glared at Jim. "I am Joker. That is all that matters."
"Don't you have any family-?" he cringed when the scarred man's eyes widened with outrage.
"Who fucking cares?!" he suddenly roared, flinging a slice of pizza at Jim. "Who cares?" he repeated again, sounding almost wounded. Jim knew he was treading on thin ice and knew he had to choose his words carefully.
"You don't have to be alone all the time, that has to hurt, I don't care how tough you are."
"I don't need anyone." He snarled back.
"Then why are you going through all this? Why use me to lure Batman here? Surely he means something to you-" suddenly the clown was upon him pummeling him with his fists.
"Shut up!" he roared, Jim felt the shock of pain again and again and knew he should have kept his damn mouth shut. Suddenly he was on the floor again, the chair fallen backwards and the clown stood gasping, and then he was choking again. This time the spasm actually seemed to weaken him. He seemed disoriented, exhausted. He sat down gracelessly. "Shut up." He repeated weakly, his face twisting in anguish. Jim winced in pain, but was surprised to note the blows had lacked the strength of his previous efforts.
"I'm sorry." He said softly. He was beginning to see what Dr. Arkham had been talking about. The young man was deeply troubled. He did need help. He began to cough again, this time harsher, by the end he was gasping for breath. He suddenly stood and his eyes snapped shut as he noticeable reeled. Jim gasped, as it seemed the scarred man was on the verge of collapsing. "Maybe you should sit down."
"Fuck off." Joker hissed and stalked out of the room.
"There. Right there." Bruce said, pointing wearily. Strausburg Avenue."
"That's in Old Gotham, I believe, sir." Alfred said with a sigh, rubbing his aching eyes. They had been staring at the screens for hours, manipulating each frame, cleaning it up and focusing. Most were so blurred it was still impossible to read. Lucius pulled up a map on another screen then pointed to the street.
"It's not far from the river. He could have made it there that night." He said. Bruce yawned, rubbing his eyes as well.
"Good." He snapped and stood.
"Sir, with all due respect, you've been up for nearly two days now. I know your concerns, but you need rest." Alfred added.
"Not yet. Jim Gordon is too important. I can't just take a nap and hope for the best. He's counting on me."
"You can't afford to be reckless, either. It's nearly three a.m." Lucius pointed out. "The clown has to sleep too." Bruce smiled wryly.
"Knowing my luck, he doesn't. I can't afford to waste another minute." He began to peel off his clothes and reach for his armor. "Trust me, I'll be fine. If they aren't there, then I'll take a short nap before we start looking again. But I doubt I'll be able to anyway." He began to put his armor on.
The Joker returned moments later, bare-chested. Jim was shocked to see dozens of scars crossing his flesh. Many were clean slash lines and there were several that looked suspiciously like cigarette burns.
"This is how much my family loves me!" he hissed as he drew near. "Take a good fucking look at mommy and daddy's love!" He stared in shock, unable too look away, this close he could even see scars where the younger man had been bitten.
"Jesus." He gasped before he could stop himself. The scarred man laughed bitterly.
"This is the joke, you see? Love means nothing, family means nothing. Everything you strive for is nothing." He snarled. "How futile the struggle is when I can end it all with the push of a button." He waved one of his explosive cell phones in Jim's face. "That is fucking hilarious to me. And why shouldn't it be? The bat has my attention, because if he would only see my side he would be unstoppable. And he would be utterly merciless, it would be truly divine. We could bring this city to its knees. It would be beautiful. One day he'll see things my way… He has to." he said. Jim continued to gape. He didn't ever expect to feel pity for the younger man, but there it was and the clown saw it. His features contorted in rage and he gripped Jim by his chin. "I don't want your fucking pity, old man. I don't need it. You are the one I pity. You're the blind fool." He quickly rose again and hissed, his eyes snapping shut. He staggered back a step, his hands rose to his head and he suddenly groaned.
"You should sit down." Jim cautioned. The Joker's eyes opened and for a moment he looked confused. "You have a fever I can tell, my son-" he choked suddenly, praying he would live to see his family again. "He was very sick, just a few weeks ago. You have the same symptoms, we had to take him to the hospital." The scarred man scoffed and staggered closer, pulling Jim and the chair upright again. Jim winced, feeling blood rushing back into his arms.
"Nice try." He snickered. Jim sighed shaking his head.
"I'm not kidding." He murmured.
"I could care less. I still have work to do, and nothing is going to stop me. Save your breath for someone who gives a shit." Jim frowned. The clown truly cared for nothing, not even his own life, it seemed. It was insane, he was insane. He no longer had any doubt.
TBC….
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