…I sense the beginning of an ongoing plot here. Oh, boy. I'm actually tempted to go back and re-do the last three chapters, to give them a little more purpose. Yes?
Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight.
Chapter Six: Bruce
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I'm suddenly wishing I hadn't brought him along.
"…We have tortured all the teachers, we have broken all the rules…"
I can hear Joker rustling around in back, pulling on clothes. I know from unfortunate experience he's very quick about getting clothes on and off—as quick as he is with his knives. I watch in the rearview mirror as he puts on his waistcoat.
"…We have even spanked ol' Gordon and kept him after school…" Joker winks at me through the mirror and waves. "And our troops keep mar-ching on!"
"Stop singing," I say, swerving as a car tries to navigate around me. "I'm trying to concentrate."
Of course, Joker doesn't care in the least. He leans against the window, pulling on his coat.
"Glory, glory halleluiah! Teeeacher hit me with a ruuuulerrr…"
I keep quiet until he runs through the entire horrible song, then goes silent. He puts on the rest of his clothes absent-mindedly save for his tie. He takes care to adjust the lapels of his jacket just so.
"You don't like my singing?" Joker asks abruptly.
"No."
"Then you must be, ah, a regular Frank Sinatra, then." Joker giggles.
"I haven't sung in a long time," I say, swearing as someone makes the mistake of trying to tailgate me.
Joker splays his hands out on the seat, teeth bared. "I was right. You can't drive for—"
"Shut up," I snarl, and the cars begin honking loudly on all sides, as if to accentuate my words.
"Oooh, clever, clever," Joker replies mockingly, as the light changes to red. "Look, it's giving you a warning." He puts on a high-pitched, shrill voice. "Batman, if you don't watch your mouth…"
I try my best to ignore him. The light turns green.
"Well?" he asks, as we zip down yet another alleyway and park. We're not quite to the makeshift-Batcave yet. "Are we here?"
"No." I step out of the car and open his door, glad that his tie is loose. "Time to blindfold you."
Joker looks up at me, eyes wide. "Gosh, Mister," he simpers, clasping his hands together in mocking sainthood. "I didn't think you'd be so…forward to a sweet thing like me!"
"Stop pretending to be a woman," I say, taking his tie and wrapping it around his head, covering his eyes. "You've made the 'punchline' already."
"No, I haven't," Joker retorts—almost whines—as I lead him out of the car.
"We don't have time for this," I growl, holding his hands behind his back. "Do you want to play your games or not?" I feel more like a parent then a vigilante.
Joker grumbles and fumes, but walks regardless. I constantly check to make sure no pedestrians are around—their reactions to this would be nothing short of panic.
I find it chilling that Joker slowly relaxes, his movements hurried but loose.
--
There are times when I can't figure out if the nights in the hotel are fact or fiction.
Sometimes we'll go through with the scenario, sometimes we'll only go so far. It all depends on what happened previously. Who bested whom, who used the most cunning.
All I understand is that there are promises that we make on those nights. They aren't romantic promises, not in the usual sense. They are carnal promises, elegant in their simplicity. And sooner or later, they are all "cashed in".
Whether the ideas are in our heads, or out of them.
--
I manage to reach the bunker/Batcave without suspicion—one of the perks of being a billionaire. Alfred isn't there, it seems, so luckily I don't have to explain why I'm frog-marching a psychopathic clown into the Batcave. I'll have to explain it eventually, though.
I keep Joker in my sight (though he doesn't have that option at the moment) and hurriedly put on the suit. I watch as his lips twitch with every click and snap of the Kevlar being put into place.
I'm done in record time, and with time running out I hurriedly set him loose.
"Here."
I don't give him time to look the Batcave over. The Tumbler is back in action, freshly-repaired and ready to go. I push Joker inside and rev up the engine.
"Ten minutes left," Joker says, grinning fit to burst, looking around the Tumbler as if it were a Christmas tree.
"I know." The Tumbler roars out of the Batcave and onto the streets.
I can only hope I'm in time…
