Hi again everyone! I want to give a HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to my recent reviewers, fave-ers, and story alert-ers, because really you are the reason that I came up with this chapter so fast!
Individual thank-you's and replies:
xheartxcorex: Thank you so much! And yes, yes, who wouldn't LOVE to marry the Dark Knight, as well as certain characters within it? God, I sound like such a fan-girl…but I guess it can't be helped, haha.
Kendra Luehr: Wow that is so sweet of you to say, thank you so much! And yes, Jokachel 'fics have been my recent obsession as well, which is why the sudden creation of this fanfic, because of my impatience for others to update their own :P And I know what you mean about hard to find quality fanfics in general…that can be frustrating especially with unpopular couples! I sincerely hope I don't disappoint you with the beginning of their "relationship" in this chapter!
XPrettyXWomanX17X: Thank you! I'm so glad you're excited! And yes, love the Star Wars reference, vengeance pretty much is the path to the dark side, literally or non-literally (lol)…but we know it's so hard to avoid sometimes, especially with our flawed little human emotions. It's a sad thing, really…especially when others exploit it (ahem Joker)…
Highway Girl: Thank you so much! And yes, a new chapter is here soon (yay)! Hopefully we'll see more and more of Jokachel with time!
And now for Chapter 2. It may seem rather brief (even though it's actually longer than Chapter 1) but I promise you it will pick up, especially with the Joker's actual entrance into the story. Things will just get more interesting from here on, promised.
Thank you for reading, and as always, let me know what you think…and enjoy!
Dark Humor
Two
The former assistant District Attorney was tense and poised as she readied herself for what lay within the interrogation room. Sweat creased her palms, lined her forehead with the telltale signs of human nerves—yet she couldn't afford to give into that now. It was too late to go back, propelled by the violent emotions in her body, by her desire to exact whatever she could upon the mad man before he would undoubtedly overpower her, or at least to try and bring some justice to Harvey's death.
You're an idiot, Rachel. You're a damned idiot.
But she knew that. If she hadn't been an idiot, she would have never befriended the Batman or nearly married the District Attorney of Gotham City in the first place. Without another beat, as the hideous chuckling continued, the screams she had just heard reduced to a loud, disjointed gurgling, Rachel dove through the door, her gun in hand, praying her was at least alone—
Rachel didn't expect to see the crumpled body of Lau in the hands of the smirking clown as she entered, cradling him as tenderly as if he were a child. Her body froze in terror at the sight; thin dribbles of blood ran down Lau's slender throat, the only true indication of any assault, yet his slanted eyes were wide and rolled upwards in cold, cruel death. His skin was already pale and ashen beneath the sharp, fluorescent lights, and for a sickening moment Rachel could imagine Lau's body beneath the ground, already crawling with maggots, already destroyed in its fleeting mortality…
She almost forgot about the piercing gaze of the man cradling the dead body against him. It was only when he uttered a low, almost guttural purr of greeting from the depths of his throat, discarding Lau's body between them as he pulled himself to his feet that she truly realized who stood before her. It was Harvey's murderer she was facing—and, in a way, her own.
The bottomless eyes watched her with pure pleasure as she mirrored his gaze, echoed by the suddenly shrill, high-pitched laughter from his heavily scarred, cracked orifice. It wasn't even a mouth, couldn't even merit to be compared to one in its gashed, inhuman leer, the stitching constantly crackling as if it would give way and gush a downpour of blood without any warning.
"Why helloooooooo, beautiful! Or should I call you Mrs. Dent? It seems you're a little late for our date, and I've been expecting you."
Rachel gasped at the man's shameless, crooning mockery, her fingers clutching the pistol tight and pointing the weapon straight at him,
"Shut up!"
The Joker's eyes widened for a fraction of a second at the weapon that seemingly came from thin air, before scarred lips pulled back from yellow teeth in another shrill, high-pitched cackle of amusement. As he laughed, he kicked the dead body at his feet carelessly to the side like a heap of unwanted garbage, before beginning to walk coolly forward towards her, as if she were not harboring a weapon and pointing it menacingly towards him.
"Stand back," She cried, her eyes narrowing towards the Joker in dark revulsion. The clown seemed to make a show of contemplating her words, placing his hand beneath his chin and raising his brows, yet then he shook his green mane wildly and grinned,
"No, no, no, no, no…that wouldn't be the right way to entertain my pretty little guest! Besides, are you really sure you know how to point that thing?"
His voice became lower then, almost a conspiratorial whisper, as he crossed his arms, the grin never fading from his smug, scarred lips,
"Because I think you're very off...shooting me wouldn't kill those responsible, you know."
As he spoke, he began to form a slow circle around the large interrogation room; Rachel moved as well, pulling herself away from him with each step, not wanting to make him think he could get any closer to her.
He's lying, Her mind frantically hissed amidst the sudden confusion, don't believe him for a second, why should you?
"You're a liar," Rachel replied with a shaking voice, cocking the weapon in her hands and watching as Joker actually jumped up slightly at the sound,
"Oh, no, me?! I'm anything but that! You see, dear Rachel, I'm the most honest guy in Gotham at this very moment, what with...our little white Knight put out of commission."
She was quiet; her body seethed with the rage she had felt before, though diluted by a trembling in her breast; something akin to fear, yet not quite. She had never actually shot at someone before, especially not in such a tense situation, and she didn't know if she would be able to aim properly at one of the Joker's vital areas while he was prancing around her in a circle, taunting her with his lies.
But, her mind then contradicted itself darkly, What if he isn't lying? What if...
As if able to read her thoughts, he nodded quickly, holding his hands out as if he were an innocent child and hadn't just killed the man lying inert between them. His knife glinted against the fluorescent light, still red and caked with blood, toted as if it were a harmless instrument by the madman,
"You see, Rachel--can I call you Rachel, since Mrs. Dent doesn't really work anymore?—"
She flinched, a cry of mottled rage twisting in her throat, and Joker nodded again, holding his hands out before himself defensively,
"Rachel. While you and your, uh...squeeze were out in that life or death situation, I was right here, in my little jail cell, wasting away! I didn't kidnap you or Harvey, how could I when I was right here?"
He gestured towards the wide expanse of the room they were in, still nodding in silent encouragement, as if to reinforce his words that seemed to drip with venom in Rachel's eyes, "How could I have possibly been the one to do any sort of harm to you and Harvey, when I don't even have plans?"
"It doesn't matter!" She retaliated, her voice an angry cry, yet shakier than she had wanted it to be, "Harvey's dead, and they were your men, don't try to play your games with me!"
"Oh, but I'm not playing any games, I promise you," He replied smoothly, a giggle at the edge of his words, his face cocked to the side as if he were an innocent boy, "If I were here, I couldn't have given any orders out to anyone. Gordon and his...ah, men," He gestured outside, towards what Rachel had seen to be the rows of mangled bodies, "Made sure of that. Morrone's men were the ones to go after your Harvey, and they were the ones to wire him to the explosives, while you two exchanged vows of love and comfort before your final moments toge—"
"Shut up!" Her voice was so loud her own ears rang with the ferocity of it; the Joker jumped backwards in mock surprise, before chuckling again, grabbing at his sides, "You always were feisty, beautiful, and that's what I've liked about you. You see, I'm not surprised you were the one to pull through this and come after me with a gun, when I could easily take your cute little pistol out of your hands and carve you up like a pumpkin within seconds if I wanted to,"
His mouth curled into a sinister leer, then, and the savage amusement in Joker's eyes at his words chilled Rachel's spine,
"But I like you. I've been watching you, trying to...figure out exactly what it is that attracts the two most powerful men in Gotham to you, and I found the predicament...irresistible, myself. You're not nearly as strong as you pretend to be, and that strikes me as incredibly funny! Why a girl like you, a beautiful girl, Harvey's squeeze, Batman's little object of desire…would still take on a job as ugly as D.A. assistant, and risk her life enforcing stupid little morals and high values and 'putting the bad guys away'…well, it doesn't make any sense! It's crazy business, the way you people work, thinking you can lock away every corrupted person in Gotham when we're all corrupted, even the people you trust the most, when even your little Batman turns his tail on you after finally seeing you as what you are, and that's bait—"
Rachel's fingers trembled on the trigger, her eyes sharp with tears of anger. What she would give to lunge at this man right now, to tear at him with nail and limb and every part of her body, to shoot him full of bullet holes and never look back. What she would give to wipe off that damned smirk on his face, to make sense of his little attempt at psychiatrist analysis in the face of potential death.
But vengeance doesn't equal justice…what do I want from this? From hurting him? Think, get a hold of yourself, get a hold of your logic!
"Batman's a better man than you or Morrone," She interjected, her voice trembling, "And he's coming right now to help me, and to put you where you belong!"
Another howling cackle, and he leered at her again, his black eyes seeming to bore straight into her soul, the red smile genuine beneath the scars and lipstick,
"Is that what you really think?"
Rachel gasped. During their tense circling across the room, the Joker had managed to come dangerously close towards the heavy door that closed the interrogation room. He could slip right through if he wanted to, and she would have to chase him, would have to fire at him as best as she could...she didn't know if she could even get a shot at him from his distance. Her mind numbed and her breath cursed violently at the realization, and he turned around and gazed at the door in mock surprise and then, chuckling, shook his head.
"I know you think I'm a coward, but...I assure you, I'm not. I'd prefer to take this little encounter...head-on."
As he said this, he turned with surprising, almost feline agility and twisted the door shut, wrenching the nearest chair beneath the handle. Rachel's heart lurched sickeningly against her chest despite herself, as her situation just grew more urgent, a little more hopeless. A giggle bubbling in the depths of his throat, the Joker licked his lips and hovered towards her, so close that her heart leapt again in her body, pumped quickly with heated adrenaline. She raised the gun again, backing up so that he was always a good few inches away from her, yet soon enough her back hit against the surface of the metal table behind her, and she winced at the pain of its slightly sharp edge against her body. If she turned towards the table's side in an effort to get further away, she didn't know what he was capable of doing the moment she turned her head. He could kill her with one swipe of his knife at this point, break her artery within less than a breath's heightened panic, reducing her to a peaceful slumber…
The thought was almost grimly tempting, and her lip curled in disgust at her own mind's yearning.
"Now that we're a bit more…intimate," The Joker whispered, his hot, rancid breath filling her nostrils and almost overpowering her as he hovered menacingly close—too close for comfort, for anything but panic—"I'd like to seriously apologize for the loss of your, ah…loved one. Gotham won't be able to stand on its two feet anymore, will it? All the people who thought they were strong, that they were powerful, will crumble…and chaos will reign. And all because Batman messed up his priorities—if anyone is to blame, blame it on the Bat!"
His voice was suddenly an octave higher as he practically screamed the last of the sentence; Rachel pressed herself back against the table's sharp, dagger-like surface, her back curling inward, glaring at his chuckling, hysterical face, the face caked with war paint, so savage and inhuman in all its scarred mirth. All this monster did was laugh at her pain, at her confusion, with his black hole of a mocking mouth devouring any remote humanity around him, until everything bled like his scars, until everything was irreparable. This man was one of those men that she realized could never be bargained with, even after having told Bruce once a long, long time ago that everyone was a good person, everyone deserved their own justice.
Maybe the man before her didn't even count as a human being. And maybe the revulsion curling in her throat, throbbing in her head and heart and hands, was the only right thing to feel. Did the Joker deserve humanity? Harvey had deserved it, hadn't he? And look where he was now…
"Why do you keep saying that?!" She finally replied in rising ire, the gun shaking ferociously in her hands, her teeth clenching in vicious restraint not to force a bullet straight through this man's skull.
The Joker gazed at her finger upon the trigger, his eyes narrowed with an almost smug grin upon his features. The makeup was caked and smearing across the lower half of his face, patches of flesh-
colored skin contrasting sharply with chalk-white. Yet he still seemed so irrevocably inhuman, nothing more than an animal in his movements, in the casual flick of his tongue across his lips, in the way in which he relentlessly played with her.
He's the cat with blood-stained teeth…and I'm always the mouse.
Her lips tightened and she kept her eyes narrowed as he watched her, gazing straight at her resolute face, as if admiring some pretty object with appraising eyes,
"I'm only telling the truth, beautiful. Batman caused Harvey's death, more than anyone could have. You see…Batman didn't mean to come help you that night. Don't you see the guilt in his eyes whenever he tries to look at you, beside all that…manly, disgusting lust? The powerful always go for the powerful in this city, always…eat the weaker of the prey, and this was no exception. You see…"
As he spoke, he almost casually pulled himself across the other half of the table near where Rachel had been standing, sitting upon the glossy surface as if he were dictating something as frivolous as the weather,
"Morrone's men…when they kidnapped you two. They, ah…switched the addresses in which you lovebirds were located. Batman had to make his choice, and, originally, he didn't choose you to save!" Another high-pitched giggle from his lips as he uttered the horrific truth, and Rachel actually fought the urge to pull her hands over her ears, as she pushed herself forcefully to the side, away from the monster's towering frame. Defiantly, he scooted towards her, black-ringed eyes gleaming their self-righteousness as he spoke, apathetic as to how the words stung,
"Batman chose power over love…over your worth. Apparently, you weren't worth anything at all to Gotham's, ah…survival. You weren't nearly as important as your little husband-to-be, at least, not in Batman's eyes. No, he wanted to make sure he was able to wring the neck of every criminal instead of saving his dearest friend. And, even to me, that's hurtful! To be honest…"
He leaned even closer, the black abyss of his irises as if she were staring into two bottomless holes,
"When I heard, I expected him to go to save you! Of course, then he would have really saved Harvey, and maybe he wouldn't have been as guilty, knowing that Gotham would be okay, and you, the little…lover of two, would have been gone, like the pawn you always were—"
"Stop it!"
Without even thinking, Rachel pressed the gun straight against the Joker's forehead. For an instant, bewilderment etched its way across his savage features; then he cackled again giddy and erratic, nearly doubling over with laughter too intense for his thin frame. The girl kept the gun steady, her body tensed with the disturbed shock that always accompanied the peal of laughter after any tense or painful situation the bastard encountered—had she ever seen a criminal like this, who took the most horrific of human emotions, fear and pain, and twisted them into pure mirth?
Did he fear anything?
"Oh, I love this, I love this so much! I'm so glad you were the one to come through, after all, because this is just too much fun! I would have never thought you'd come after me, with the intent to kill me…when even the Batman himself doesn't even kill. Maybe we're more, ah…made for one another than you once thought, Rachel, thinking you were better than all the criminals you've helped Dent put to jail, thinking you got some sort of self-worth and satisfaction from all of it, hmm? But to know now that Batman would have betrayed you, that your closest associates are working for Morrone…how does it feel to have no one to trust, not even yourself any longer? When you wish you were the one to have died in place of poor Harvey!"
Her fingers were shaking so violently then that the entire gun itself trembled erratically against Joker's forehead. How easily she could penetrate his skin, now, could put a bullet through his flesh and end it all. How quickly she could end the horrific laughter, bring his taunting to silence within minutes, avenge Harvey and put Gotham's threat and the source of all her recent nightmares to oblivion...
But he's not directly responsible for Harvey's death, is he? You would kill a guilty man for justice, but not guilty for the crime you wanted to avenge...
What's the difference between vengeance and justice? What did I say to Bruce before, when his parents were killed?
What had happened to those values of self-righteousness? To order? To her sense of justice?
He was staring at her as always, the black eyes boring into her, violating her more forcefully than any physical touch. Rachel could feel his hot breath on her neck, her cheek, as she contemplated just how killing the monster would feel at that moment, as she yearned for it. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed up defiantly at his own, and she saw in his only the empty, lusting smirk of a predator, fueled by pure instinct and carnal thirst. He thirsted for blood; he thirsted for flesh--that was all that moved him, all that could ever move him. What were years of criminal analysis and
sympathy for all when it came to this…thing? What human rule applied to him, besides her own goddamned desire to put him to justice?
She wanted to spit at him, she wanted to lunge and hurt him for hurting Harvey, she wanted to shoot—God, how she ached to shoot!
Harvey wouldn't do this if I had died. Harvey would have remained strong…Harvey would have known how to move on. Harvey…
"Yes," She murmured quietly, so quietly it would have gone unheard by anyone but the monster before her.
"Oh?" The man's brows rose against his painted face as he cupped his ear, straining to hear, pressing his forehead even harder against the tip of her pistol, "What was that?"
"I should have died instead of Harvey," She replied, uncaring that she was revealing such thoughts to the Joker, as she was sure at that moment she would pull the trigger, every fabric in her being wanting this retribution to quell the horrible, aching pain inside of her,
"Everyone knows that. But maybe killing you will put the balance back? Maybe it will bring justice? With the main defender of Gotham gone, and the main source of Gotham's destruction gone..."
A wide, twisted smile played from ear-to-ear across the clown's face as he nodded, chuckling with a hardened tone to his voice, like a rabid, snarling dog, the stitches rippling with scarlet skin in a beast's bloodied leer.
"Now you're seeing things the way they really are. It's not about order, beautiful, it's about chaos...it's about anarchy. I don't make plans, I ruin them, I chase things and destroy them...like a dog! And the only people who can make it in Gotham are the ones that destroy. This city is a cesspool, a breeding ground for the corrupt and the damned. And the only way to rule this place, the only absolute, is chaos. So..."
He repositioned her gun tip, pressing it into his scarred mouth, grinning as it settled against the inside of his cheek. Rachel's heart pumped with both toxic dread and horrific desire; she couldn't think besides the horrible surge of adrenaline, the sickening urge to pull, to end, to destroy. And the source,
the lone object of all of her anger and hatred and pain all these never-ending, fear-stricken days was standing before her, offering her a chance to rid the world of him.
"Do it," He purred demurely against the muffled tone of his gun-filled mouth, "Do what you've come here to do, what you've wanted to do all along. Upset the established order. Don't be so
self-sacrificing...take what you want. Kill me. "
She tensed, her fingers heavy on the trigger. Just one squeeze...that's it...her gun was cocked, she could look away...she shut her eyes tight, feeling the weight of his jaw pressing heavily
against Harvey's pistol. Harvey's pistol. What a fitting end.
"Do it," He hissed almost impatiently, a chuckle bubbling from deep within him, rippling across the weapon in its gruesomely amused strength, "Do it, come on, come on, kill me...kill me, KILL ME!"
As her fingers acted, her eyes shut tight—and a face, an all-too familiar, all too painfully real face became the dominant image in her mind—a blonde, smiling face, with kind eyes and a strong, reassuring smile…the skin suddenly trickling, oozing down across the thick bones like liquid, the muscles and tissues exposed, torn away layer by layer into burning, bleeding pustules and ash and dust, the eyes the last distinguishable thing as the jaw bone disconnected, covered entirely in flame, the fire eating away at the thick strands of hair, eating away at every remaining distinguishable feature—the ears, the nose, the cheeks, eating and eating until there was nothing at all but burnt black bone and ashy remnants and crawling maggots, and stop it, stop it, stop it, stop hurting the man I love—
Harvey!
She pulled the trigger.
The bullet pierced the air like a knife through butter, quick as a blur—
Yet it landed in thick, black armor, no trace of the monstrous flesh it had been so close to hitting, to killing, to ending. Black eyes stared down at her, eyes so much like those that had just bored into her with merciless insanity. But Batman was there, Batman was clutching with brute force at the gun in her hands, pulling it forcefully from her grip as if she were the criminal, sending it clattering upon the ground, as useless now as Lau's dead, frigid body it had pressed itself against in its descent. She fell to her knees, then, unable to comprehend what had just happened—gazing up at the black figure before her, her eyes straining to see behind him, to see any remaining sign of the monster who had seemingly disappeared right into thin air…
"The Joker fled as soon as I arrived—you fainted, and he was dragging you across the floor, laughing…"
The raspy, phony voice was apathetic as ever around the wave of policemen that engulfed them in a sea of spiraling blue, yet she could sense the horror in his voice, the powerlessness of perhaps having one day come too late. Yet she couldn't think; her breath was ragged, her body was trembling, all she could think of was how close she had been, how incredibly close…
"Take me home, Bruce," She whispered, so low even the Batman strained to her hear, "Just take me home. I don't want to hear it, just let me rest."
The black figure hesitated; then, slowly, the stiff head nodded once, twice. Strong hands pulled her up by her arm, and she walked herself towards the door, ignoring the questions that piled themselves upon her in torrents from the policemen who had noticed her, her mind throbbing viciously and painfully with the taxing encounter she had just survived through.
Survived?
She hadn't been a victim, at least, not while conscious; she had been the attacker, the assaulter, she had been the one to threaten, to nearly kill—yet Batman still held her in his tight grip just outside of the building, disappearing with her into the blackness of nightfall. Batman still placed her securely in her apartment room, through the unlocked window, watching her resolutely with his masked face as she double checked the deadbolt and pulled herself quietly into her bed sheets, seeking refuge even from his prying eyes.
Maybe vigilantes were self-justified. Maybe they were never criminals because they never saw themselves as such. But the police wanted the Batman. The police wanted the Joker.
What was the difference between justice and vengeance?
Her body hurt beneath the sheets, felt abused and hot and crooked. She pulled off layers of restrictive clothing, too fitful to care for a shower for one night, to mind the fact that her clothing was strewn across the floor with case files and papers and other assorted personal items. As Rachel struggled to fight herself into a fitful sleep, she didn't see the card slide from the discarded pocket of her slacks. The image of a doubled-over black Joker leered from its papery surface as she forced her eyes shut, covered with bloodied, sloppy scrawl:
Murderer.
Woo! Gosh, that encounter felt good to write…and awfully abrupt, as well. I was thinking of a million different ways to end the little talk between the Joker and Rachel (first of many, of course…) but I decided to get Batman involved as the other version ran a bit too long for comfort, even with our favoriteeee Joker! haha…well, I'm glad I introduced him in here, as brief as it seemed (even though he made up the entire chapter!) because I can progress with the storyline and make things much more interesting from here-on. I'm so excited to write Chapter 3! Ahh!
Yes, I did end up borrowing some of the Joker's speech to Harvey post-disfiguration because…well, it was just too Joker to leave out, and I think it's integral to his character, the mad dog metaphor and whatnot. I can't leave him improperly characterized, even in his relentless mental torture of others…(poor Rachel.)
And thanks again SO MUCH to my reviewers! I was so glad with the reviews I've gotten already from Chapter One, and that people are actually reading and enjoying this so far…it's because of all of you that I continue any of my fanfics, ever. So keep 'em coming ; I ALWAYS love to know what you all think, and what you'd like to happen…(though I can't guarantee it'll end up that way either.)
Well, until Chapter 3!
