Moonstruck Chapter 4
Note: To those who thought Bruce was OOC, we never know what goes on inside his head because he is kind of a quiet individual. I wanted to portray a more human side of him, because occasionally we all think things that we want, but don't really want to see happen in real life. Like, I hate this girl in class, and sometimes imagine her getting eaten by a monster, but I don't want her really to be eaten.
Warnings: Slash, a little OOCness (well, the Joker lost his memory, do you still expect him to be the same exact guy?)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the DC Characters. Frost isn't mine, btw.
And…here…we….
Go!
Gotham City
Sunday, September 29th
Ever since a single camera man had eavesdropped on the GCPD that the Clown Prince was a patient at Gotham General, news spread quicker than the death of JFK. The billionaire was right; once the broadcast was heard, people felt safer and unlocked their windows, enjoying the streets once again.
Over the past few days, Gotham's headlines have all read the same thing and the same picture of the clown menace that had been wreaking havoc all over the city.
JOKER CAPTURED AFTER ASSAULT
Or
JOKER IN COMA
GOTHAM'S CRIME RATE DECREASES
WHY GOTHAM DOESN'T NEED BATMAN
Bruce Wayne repeated the title of the tabloid, taking it off of the street vendor's shelves as he chewed on a cheap hot dog he had purchased minutes ago. He stared grotesquely at the paper, as a famous picture of the Bat had been seriously disfigured and looked more like 'Batboy' than the hero. He shuffled in his pockets for a few crumpled dollar ills, handed them to the vendor and walked over to his friend, who was enjoying a cup of tea and biscuit under a lovely French awning of the Aigre Doux.
He slapped the tabloid right in front of Alfred's face, repeating the title.
"Why Gotham doesn't need Batman."
Alfred adjusted his glasses, and took hold of the paper, "My, what have they done to your face?" He stared carefully at the exaggerated bloodshot eyes and fangs poorly photo-shopped onto Batman's hyperextended maw.
Bruce sat down in the cast iron chair opposite of the butler, adjusting himself in the uncomfortable seat.
"Look at the title." He said bluntly.
Alfred glanced at it again, and at the other titles on the black and white page. They read Obese Man Saves Child from Drowning By Giant Belly; "I found a mermaid in my sandwich!" 9-Month Old Baby Gets Black Belt in Karate.
"Why Gotham no longer needs Batman." There was a slight impatient tone in his voice and gave the butler a firm look.
"Master Bruce, are you suggesting a day off?"
"That's not what I had in mind…"
The butler sighed, giving the brunet a time to speak. "I always said there was going to be a time when Gotham no longer needed Batman. And that time is coming."
"It's a tabloid, Master Wayne… How could you-"
"And they're right for a change. Gotham doesn't need Batman. Gordon and his men caught the Joker without the help of the suit. They cut the head off of the snake, Alfred. Without the leadership of the Joker, his henchmen are just goons with no power in their hands at all. And look at these headlines--"
He grabbed a ratty copy of the Gotham Times off of a nearby deserted table and handed them to Alfred. "Look through it." He commanded. Alfred gave him a strange look and then turned his attention to the paper the billionaire was adamant on him to read. He flipped through the thin, dry pages. Searching for what he figured Bruce wanted him to find.
"What do you see?"
"The Super Bowl, car ads, and oh will you look at that. Bonvino's is reopening next Saturday."
"Look at for the crime section."
Alfred sighed and flipped through the paper again, slightly pausing at one of the comics in the youth section until giving up. "I can't find it sir."
Bruce spoke monotone, knowing that he was right. "Because there is none."
"Hmm?" Alfred looked once again, trying to avoid eye contact.
"The streets have been clean since the Joker was captured. It's the same as when he was carted off to Arkham: The threats decreased, even with the Scarecrow out on the loose. Gotham can take care of itself now, without the help of a mask."
Alfred cleared his throat, "I'm sorry Master Wayne, if I offend you in any way, but is that not contradicting to your plan with the Mayor?"
"It's not." He replied bluntly. "These men aren't going to leave their treasure chest without some convincing. And that's what I'm going to do." He finished, shoving the rest of the hot dog in his mouth.
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Gotham General
Monday, September 30
Beep….beep….beep….beep…
The green line that represented the patient's heartbeat became more constant, faster and stronger as a deep stir ran throughout his whole body. His chest rose and sank at each deep breath he took. The dirty fingertips twitched gently as he gradually regained consciousness in the comforting hospital bed.
His body sunk quickly as he sighed at the feeling of the satin sheets pulled up over his chest. The warmth reassured him that he was safe, and more importantly, alive. Everything seemed stiff and he knew for a fact that he could not move.
Breathing was quite difficult when having a large tube shoved down his throat and trachea.
Huh…intubation.
It was the only thing that came to his mind. He debated the idea of opening his eyes to the world, to see what Gotham had in store for him now. But his loss of strength denied him the ability. As he strained, pain overwhelmed him and he succumbed back to a painful slumber.
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Gotham City Hall
Tuesday, September 31
"Mayor, you plan to keep the cities clean of violence within the next few months. How are you going about this, are you having help from the so-called Batman? I mean—assuming Batman still serves Gotham?"
Reporters, paparazzi, and the Gotham board stood in an audience of chaos once hearing the news of the Mayor's plans. Garcia shook his black hair, speaking powerfully and attempting to win the city's favor.
"The vigilante Batman has no affiliation with me, or the GCPD. We intend to compose an accord with crime in Gotham, to protect the people. Our only priority is the safety of the public in Gotham. With the Joker in confinement, Gotham has the advantage--we have the advantage to win the war over violence." The Mayor answered, hoping it would please the people. A chorus of impatient reporters roused up again, yelling their incessant questions again.
Mayor Garcia spotted the neatly trimmed Bruce Wayne standing in the back, uncomfortable as usual about the talk of his alter-ego. He was right about the government no longer needing Batman.
Come on, Wayne. He told himself, Batman needs to retire. Did you really think that you could pull this off for years to come?
"You and I are destined to do this....forever."
The Joker's strained cackle etched itself into his thoughts, scarring his memories.
Bruce sighed and politely exited the conference to fetch some water, which he hoped would clear his thoughts. Behind him, he could hear the commotion start again.
A skinny blonde, covered by her large glasses pushed through with her microphone in hand. "What's your plan of attack?"
The Mayor chuckled. "I can tell you one thing: It's something none of them can refuse."
His eyeliner coated eyes shone in the humility as the crowd exploded again.
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The Grin and Bear It Gentlemen's Club
Lower East Side of Gotham City
Beer and liquor sloshed around in the gentlemen's club, enlightening the room with fearlessness. They were finally free men, without a care in the world. In the streets of Gotham, they were slaves to the devil. They loved their new home where they could be what sin ordered them to be: drunken bastards smoking, fucking, and filling Gotham with fear.
The Grin and Bear It was once a strip club on the lower east side of Gotham. It's once welcoming sign had brought many customers, even the rich, to the joint where boys could be gentlemen enjoying life. The club ran out of business in the 70s, falling to the economic crash period. Gangs picked the deserted area as a chill-pad, opening the bar to only those in the business.
Various gangs had been in and out, and many a blood has been spilled. By the time of the 21st century, it was a hideout for the mob. The previous name was destroyed when the Clown Prince adopted the place as his own.
Drunks sat at the dirty bar, littered by cigarette ash and stained blood. "You going out tonight?"
"Naw. The city is on patrol again. They know they're more powerful. I'm not gonna risk Arkham again. Not without the Boss here."
The scent of marijuana hung in the air like perfume, covering up the stench of vomit, sweat, and sex. A tall blond, in his mid forties strode through the mass of cans and cigarettes on the carpet to get to his favorite spot in the place: the TV. He jumped over the couch, landing in the soft cushions.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha, Jonny. Will ya look on that man on the tube?" The dirty man exclaimed next to him, pointing to the (in his opinion) ugly mug of the Mayor on Gotham Tonight, playing reruns of the speech earlier in the day.
"He thinks he can fuck with us just because Batboy isn't out to play?" he laughed hysterically at himself, almost spilling his eighth beer over the younger man and the couch. Jonny Frost shook his head.
"With the Boss gone, what else can we do?"
"Be a free man, Jonny-boy!" He exclaimed, grabbing onto the blond. "With the Joker gone, there's nobodys that's gonna get us in in trouble! We do whatever the fuck we want to!"
Jonny paid no attention and pointed to the television. "I kind of want to check it out. The Jo--"
The big man, named Monty, growled through yellow teeth, "Don't you say his name. He's gone now, and we're in charge." He backed off before one of the other men saw the threat and would shoot him. He frowned, slightly upset that Jonny hadn't flinched.
"Have a cigarette." The man said calmly, tossing him one and ditched the sofa. Jonny watched him leave, and then grabbed the cigarette, flicking his lighter, and blowing out blue smoke.
Jonny Frost, like most of the Joker's henchmen was human at one point. He was 20 when he married a skinny redhead, Shelly, both as happy as could be. She was gorgeous and all the men wanted to be with her. Frost considered himself lucky, but what he did not know would break him.
They had two kids, a boy and a girl, and they were only eight years old when Frost found out about the affairs his wife had been having. She began stripping, becoming a female escort for money. He left, broken hearted when he was found by the gangs, becoming one of the loyal teams. He had been in and out of the joint five times, swearing it would be his last when he met the Joker.
He helped Frost get back on his feet and in return, served the Joker's every wish. Once his wife found out about his affiliation with the Joker, she shoved divorce papers in his face.
Jonny Frost put all of his trust in the Joker, even though he had earned some close calls from the clown, but the Joker strangely trusted him as well. The only other man the Joker trusted was Thomas Schiff, one of his oldest friends.
Frost exhaled, wondering what the Joker would do…
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Shut that goddamn beeping thing off.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Ugh.
Bright lights made me wince. It was too goddamn bright, but no it's not the light of heaven.
"Response, normal." Came a female voice as Nurse Ada hovered over the Joker, shining a low-watt flashlight into his eyes for dialation.
Oh, no. If I was in heaven, I would be at a circus, starring as the main event. I love making people laugh…
This seems more like hell to me. I feel like shit.
Four white coats stood over him, with paper masks on. the rummaged through cabinets on the other side of the room, and placed trays of metal objects next to his head. They sure looked weird from that angle, he thought. Over the past few days, his breathing had improved and the redhead Ada slid the tube out of his body from the mouth, causing him to cough from having his throat chapped.
Instantly, he groaned at the pain in his chest.
Shit, what the hell happened to me?
A sour feeling rose in the pit of his stomach, but he could not move or say anything to indicate that he was in pain. Did I… did I overdose again?
He parted his lips in an attempt to ask them what had happened, when the impulse to yawn overcame him. He squeezed his dark eyes shut, knowing of the impending pain that would rip through his cheeks within moments.
One by one, he could hear the sutures on the inside of his cheeks pop when the force of pressure caused them to. His cheeks throbbed until each stitch had snapped, instantly twinging with a feeling that of a new papercut rubbed with salt. As if the first pains were not enough, the feeling and thoughts of his face in two halves tortured him.
A coppery liquid poured down his throat, causing him to gag.
"His stitches have ripped."
Stop it! Whatever the fuck it is, stop it!
Please.
An Asian man leaned over him, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose to calm him down. Blurs of white and blue covered his vision like a thick fog, as the drug was forced into his lungs with every breath he took and caused the strange world around him to buckle in.
"Easy…" He heard, and succumbed to the anesthesia.
A/N: I kind of picture some of Gotham like New York City with all those nice shops and hot dog stands. Yumm. Great, I'm hungry now. Haha oh, and don't you love those tabloids with Batboy? They're the best! I just had to include them in here!
But yes, please tell me what you want to see, what you don't like, what you like, what needs to improve, etc! I know a lot of people are readi this story from the story stats, please review!
-Ididntdoit07 (ArkhamsSmile/TheJOKERevealed on YouTube)