Bite
Two days. Two more entire fucking days of my life spent in fear of the Joker.
It had been such a long time since I felt real fear – the kind of fear that soaks and seeps into every crack of your existence. Into your fucking dreams, even. Between every bite of food or stroke of my hair brush were thoughts of the Joker.
How did he escape? Will he try to hunt me down? How could I possibly face him again? How could he possibly survive a wound like that? How did his survival fly under my radar? Is this real or have I finally truly lost it?
The night we found out, Blake and I hurried home to bury ourselves in research. Despite our (quite illegal) access to just about every CCTV camera in the city, the best intel we were able to gather was flashes of sketchy-looking groups of men near the harbor. Chilling though it was to watch the crew silently and diligently float through the night, there was no evidence on fuzzy footage that this was Joker's crew.
Well, no evidence except the glimpse of the face of the man in the middle of the crew. I'd watched the clip hundreds of times, trying to convince the figure away though some part of me knew the first viewing that it was him. The man in question shuffled off the boat, still wearing a bright orange jumpsuit from his time in Arkham. He had long spider-leg-like limbs that he unfurled overhead as he exaggeratedly stretched. He swung out of the boat and landed in the water with a rowdy splash that landed on several nearby men, who hardly acknowledged the indiscretion. The man in question pushed his longish hair out of his face and I could just barely make out his chilling wide smile into the gloomy Gotham sky.
The way the man moved... of course, I couldn't be sure... but my gut said that the news reports were right. That this was a clip of the freshly-escaped Joker, now loose in the public once more. Ready and willing to enact terror in big and small ways on the people of Gotham.
The news reporters said that they received anonymous tips regarding his escape. They said they had no idea how The Joker was still alive, but that police were investigating the medical examiner that signed his death certificate. If I wasn't so fucking terrified, I would have investigated myself on how this all came to be. How could The Joker have been somehow still alive and only miles away from an unknowing me for these many years? This was a question, burning though it was, that I did not have time to answer.
The first of the three days I'd spent making arrangements to run. My bags had been packed, hotels booked in another city far from here, flight scheduled.
"But who will kill him if not us?" I had asked aloud to myself as I saw the yellow cab pull up. The cabbie honked impatiently at me as I stared down at my pale hand on the door handle.
After a beat, I had staggered back from the cab, looking down at my reflection with disgust. I had sworn to protect this city – how could I have entertained the idea of running for a whole day? How could I have wasted time making preparations to leave when I should have been preparing to kill The Joker?
"It doesn't matter that he escaped," I decide aloud to no one but myself in the mirror, bringing myself back to the present. This was my final thesis after days of reeling. I'd said it to myself ten times over. One more time wouldn't hurt, though, "It doesn't matter."
I looked a little worse for the wear, my chin scraped to shit. Dots of blood are on the towel I used to blot the scrape, raw again from being washed. It came courtesy of a random thug that took advantage of my half-hearted fighting the night prior.
"It doesn't matter that he escaped. Only that the system failed. Again. And that's where we have to come in."
Just please, stop thinking about him.
The thoughts were yet another torture that he inflicted upon me.
He doesn't even have to be near you anymore to torture you.
What a fool you were – thinking it would be that easy to kill him.
No, he's a man like any other. Woundable – killable.
Then why didn't he die when I killed him?
I half-screamed, flipping away from the questions in my eyes reflected back at me.
"Everything okay?" Blake shouted from somewhere downstairs in our safe home in the middle of nowhere, panic rising in his voice. I could already hear his heavy footsteps nearing the stairwell.
"I'm fine!"
The footsteps stopped.
"Are you ready yet?"
"Five minutes."
I spun back around and smeared a bright red lipstick over my lips and a bit of makeup over my scars and scrapes. The scar on my lip was my only defining characteristic not covered by my black leather cowl. It was my second greatest fear – being recognized. If any of these fucking thugs ever discovered our identities, it would be over for Batman and Batwoman. The idea of more harm coming to Blake because of me was unthinkable.
My boots thudded down the stairs, where Robin met me with a look of great unease as he placed my gun into my thigh holster gingerly. He had this sweet, but irritating, habit of treating me like a cracked drinking glass when he was worried about me.
"We're going to find him. Just keep a level head and let me be the one to fight him if it comes to that."
I nodded, knowing that my intentions were the exact opposite.
"Lucius found surveillance footage of one of his goons kidnapping a girl and taking her back to a dock near where we spotted him before."
"So that's all we're going off of? I want to find him, not his goons," my tone was ice.
"The girl he kidnapped - she was a... redhead. They drove past a couple other women before they chose her."
A redhead... like me, my sour thoughts blackened even further. So he is still thinking of me. I'd hoped he had forgotten about me after so long, that maybe he'd found a new plaything. Why me? I wondered for the millionth time.
"The goon was probably acting on his orders, then. To bring him a girl that... looks like me."
To think that, after all these years, the first thing he orders when he gets out is a surrogate. That poor girl. He must be doing to her what he probably wants to do to me - to rip me limb from him. I thought of the look of death he gave me the first time I inconvenienced him and could only imagine the wrath he must feel now.
"Let's go, then. The longer he's out there, the more time he has to prepare for us or to hurt the girl, if she's with him," I moved to walk past him to the door.
"Blaze," he caught my arm and I looked to him, inwardly exasperated and trying not to let it show, "Are you going to be okay?"
"As long as we kill the motherfucker," I yanked my arm from him and stomped towards the safehouse garage, where our hulking chariot awaited. The Rumbler.
Our charged silence was oppressive on the way to the docks. I fidgeted with my gear, checking that everything was loaded twice over.
What if he's there? What if he's waiting for you?
"They stole the girl right in front of a security camera, seemed to follow her at least a couple blocks to do it there, too," Blake said, making me jump, "So... this might be a trap. But if he's had a chance to catch up with Gotham at all since being out - he thinks he's trapping Batman and Batwoman – not Blaze and Blake. No one knows who we are."
I nodded, trying to convince myself he was right despite a sinking feeling. How would The Joker react if he somehow found it was me behind the mask? Or worse, if he recognized me the moment he saw me?
I turned to stare at myself in the glass of the heavily-tinted window. My damning red hair was a little longer than when last I saw him, my scars covered. My cowl covered me from the nose up in black leather. But is it enough?
Too soon, Blake slid The Rumbler to a stop outside of a damp, dark storage dock. All was quiet, the scene entirely devoid of movement save for the buoying pitiful waves and all they moved.
"You should have parked farther away. We've all but come in with lights and sirens with this loud thing," I slipped out of the offending vehicle. I snapped my electric batons out of my belt, gripping them with expert fists.
"We might need a quick getaway," he retorted, appearing next to me with both hands gripped around a pistol.
I chuckled humorlessly, "Going right for the gun, huh?" Our guns were usually for our last possible resort.
A kiss was planted firmly on my cowl-covered forehead, "I'm not taking any chances."
I forced a deep breath in of the foul Gotham harbor air and released it. "Let's get this over with. I'll take the back, you take the front."
Hurried steps brought me to the back of the building. I stood on a stock that was situated flush against the storage facility. I paused, listening for a disturbance from within the stone walls. There was nothing but the ambient sigh of the ocean.
"I'm in," Blake's voice spoke from my earpiece.
"Heard," I affirmed back, straining to hear any possible reaction to the invader from the possible inhabitants.
Nothing.
He's probably not in there. My shaking subsided minimally. I pried open the back door – surprised and unsettled to find it unlocked.
Cautious footsteps brought me inside. A small boat was secured to an internal dock, bobbing rhythmically. Hardware supplies littered a corner of the boat, which was otherwise empty. There was a few other crates and shipping containers lining the claustrophic interior, but I could tell there were no bodies even in the very dim light. No hostages. No bombs or traps.
"Backmost room is clear," I whispered, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
Something isn't right.
"Heard."
He hasn't found anything either. Maybe there's nothing to find.
I opened the second door with a thunderous creak that made me cringe. As I entered the room, light immediately caught my eye. It was bleeding out of the cracks between a closed door and the wall.
"Someone's home. Light's on the room the southeast corner."
"I'll clear the rest of the place and we'll leave it for last then. I'm almost done, just wait for me."
A muffled noise sounded from inside the room. A whimper. Is that a... dog? my optimistic side wondered. However, the pessimistic side of my brain thought it sounded awfully close to the whimper of someone with a gag in their mouth.
"Someone's in there – maybe getting hurt now. It sounds like a woman," I whispered grimly, keeping my voice low as if the booming creak of the door earlier didn't completely eliminate any semblance of stealth.
"Blaze – don't," but I was already grasping the door handle. I was ready to find it locked, but was again unsettled to find that the handle revolved easily and popped open.
Lights saturated the hallway and the whimpering became stifled screams. The voice of a woman, more defined now as she shrieked.
Batons ready, I entered the room. A redheaded woman was in a fetal position on the floor with her hands and legs bound. She pressed her forehead into the stone floor as she heard my footsteps draw nearer. Bloody bruises were gory bracelets around her wrists and ankles and her pants were half-off, around her knees instead of her hips. She wore a partially-torn blouse and a gag nearly shoved down her throat. The gag was satin and green. There was a very defined bright purple bite mark on the left side of her neck.
Fuck. She was raped.
"You went in, didn't you? Are you okay? What do you see?" his hushed voice was simmering with anxiety and I began to hear his footsteps when I didn't answer.
I realized I had been staring in mute horror at the girl for at least five seconds. I startled suddenly, beginning the work of clearing the rest of the room and answering Blake.
"I'm okay – there's a woman in here, not a threat. Keep clearing the rest of the rooms."
The woman looked up at the sound of my voice in surprise and stopped whining. She began struggling, though, and gesturing as best she could to her bound limbs as I peaked into the small empty storage closet. Her eyes were huge and brown. I tried not to drown in the overwhelming emotion in them.
She could be a distraction – there to shock me before his henchmen sprung upon me.
A long beat of silence, "Is she alive?"
"Yes," my voice is all-business again as I turned my attention back to the woman. Other than her and a dingy carpet in the corner, the room was empty.
I tried not to think of the color of her hair or the blood on her wrists or the bite mark as I snapped my utility blade out to untie her. I knew it was a message, and I knew exactly what the message was. She was my surrogate – getting tortured and felt up and tormented all because of me.
I pulled out what I discovered to be a green men's tie from her mouth, trying desperately to avoid her gaze. I gulped against the tears threatening to spill and the heaviness in my throat.
I'm the reason why you're here, I wanted to say. I'm the reason why you were raped. I'm sorry, I wanted to say. "Are you okay?"
"NO! I am not oh-fucking-kay!"
She yanked her pants up with quivering fingers and I helped her to stand. Her fingers were cold even through the leather of my gloves and I realized then that the docks were even colder than the rest of Gotham thanks to the thick billows of wind. That, and she was barely clothed on a damp stone floor.
"What happened to you?" Were you raped?
"The freak took me – forced me into a car as I was walking to the subway station," she broke into gasping sobs and rubbed her wrists ardently.
Condolences died on my tongue. Who was I to console her? I'm the one that put you in this situation.
"Did they hurt you?"
"Yes! Look at my neck!" Her open hand gestured to the bite mark.
"But did he – they… did they hurt you anywhere else?"
She shook her head mutely, pleasantly surprising me, "No, he just touched me a lot. Does it really matter right now?'
I nodded curtly, "You're right, we've already wasted too much time. Let's go."
"Wait," her voice cracked. Tears pooled in her eyes before she jerkily turned away from me, "I can't go." My insides churned. She answered my why? before I could ask it, "He said, if I found a way to get out, he would hurt my sister… It's him, isn't it? That terrorist from a couple years ago? Do you think he'd actually do it if I left? He has my ID, he knows my address."
He doesn't need your ID to find you. I swallowed and tried to use my same clear voice, "My partner and I will protect you and your family. First, we have to get you out of here."
"No!" she exclaimed, pulling her elbow from me when I tried to guide her to the door. Her jaw was tight, eyes swimming, "What if he gets to her before you guys?! Please, I can't take that risk. She's sick – barely hanging on as it is."
"You have my word no harm will come to you and your sister."
"You should never promise that," Blake's eavesdropping ass hissed through my earpiece.
I ignored him, "But you have to come with me right now if we're to reach her before he does. Your sister needs you and you will not stay here with him – them – so long as I'm alive and breathing, do you hear me?"
Big eyes studying me through tear-clumped lashes, "You're really her – aren't you? Batwoman?"
After a charged moment, I nodded.
She paused, rubbing her forehead emphatically for a moment as if that would aid her thought process, "Fuck," she murmured, "My sister loves you. She says you saved one of her school teachers a few years ago. To think about the look on her face when you swoop into save her… Do you think you can do it? Beat him?"
I nodded again. I'd already promised her that no harm would come to her and her family – saying it twice felt like inviting bad luck.
"Okay."
I cleared the break I could feel building in my throat and spoke to Blake, "House is clear. I'm coming to you with the girl."
My attention refocused on the mission. This was all too easy – all the doors unlocked, the home unmanned. If there's one thing I knew about the Joker, it's that he always had a plan.
"I'm at the front."
"Who are you talking to?" the girl asked.
"My partner. Follow me and stay behind. Is there anyone else in the docks that you know of?"
She filed in behind me dutifully as we made our way through towards what I imagined to be the front, "No, not that I know of. They left a while ago."
"Who's 'they?'"
"A bunch of weirdos wearing clown masks."
I swallowed. Blake came into view then, standing impatiently by the front door. Judging by his expression beneath his mask, he was privy to her last sentence.
I felt her recoil and gasp upon seeing Blake's tall, dark form.
"It's okay, he's my partner."
"Let's get you out of here," his deep voice echoed chillingly in the overly-empty space to the woman. Only I could hear the disquiet in his voice. He was nervous about the ease of all of this, too.
When he stepped outside together, we figured out exactly why it was so easy.
Five masculine figures stood silhouetted in the Gotham night between us and the Rumbler twenty feet away or so. In the near-darkness, I could only guess what was so distorted about their faces. Masks. Clown masks.
The woman gasped as she took in the ominous party. She revolved quickly to retreat back into the house before I snatched her hand, stopping her mid-step, "You don't have to be afraid. Remember what I said – stand behind me." I gently guided her to stand against the wall of the stone hut. Her eyes were wheeling, wide as she took in the forms. She wasn't listening to me, nearing hysteria now. I noticed that she younger than I, maybe in her early twenties and much taller, but very similar to me in her coloring.
"Hey," my firm voice seemed to slice through her panic and her big doe eyes finally settled down on me. I flicked on my goggles that had been resting on my head and gave her a half-there smile, "Trust me. Stay right here and do not move, okay?"
Her wide eyes didn't blink as she nodded her understanding.
Blake and I met eyes as I faced the waiting group. Our dedication to protect the girl behind us was an unspoken thought that vibrated harmoniously between us. He stayed silent, waiting on me to decide on our angle.
"Let me guess – you're the assholes who roughed this woman up, right?"
"What's it to you?" a gruff voice replied. With the masks, I couldn't tell which one of them spoke, "Not like your little suit gives you the right to stop us."
I smiled broadly, feeling a touch of confidence flow through me. Defending women was my favorite task and something that I had done time and time again with the utmost of satisfaction, "This little suit come with gadgets," I holstered my batons and slipped out my grapple gun. "Wanna see?"
The hook was around the nearest guy's shoulder before he could even blink, yanking him toward me. He was met with a metal-reinforced fist that sent him right back the way he came, landing hard on his ass.
The other bodies began to close in. Blake let out a furious yell as he surged forward, too. His foot stabbed right into the stomach of an oncoming man, snapping him back. He was just turning toward another assailant when I had one of my own to deal with.
I could tell with one look that my attacker was huge and heavy and unbalanced. He all-but-fell towards me, wielding what looked like an iron bar. I blocked the bar and twisted my forearm and wrist around it. It didn't take too hard of a pull before he reeled into a face-plant at the woman's feet. He flailed, preparing to get his legs back under him, until I dove my baton into between his shoulder blade.
"Aaaahh!" he shouted, confirming his voice to be that of the man that spoke earlier.
Another baton hit to the back of the head, covered by his mask, and he sunk to the ground.
A sudden, hard pull against my hair beneath my cowl ripped my head back. I was abruptly face-to-face with a clown mask.
I cut out his elbow with a wild grunt and his hand dropped away from my hair, a clump of my orange hair tangled still in his fist. I knocked my baton right into the fucker's throat and pressed the trigger, igniting the taser in the tip. His body convulsed away from me and he emitted a choked sound. A clipped hit of my baton had the man fall to rest next to his buddy.
The back of my head still burning something fierce, I peeked up at my Batman. He was finishing up with the remaining one of three assailants. He was lithe and brutal, his limbs cruel and swift as they used the man's own weapon against him. The man crumpled to his knees after a stunning crack as Blake took out his knees with the man's baseball bat. His screams of pain were unmuffled as Blake ripped the man's mask off and pushed him back to the damp asphalt.
Baseball bats, iron bars… what's the point of an ambush without deadly instruments? And only five men? Surely, if the Joker was paying attention to our movements at all, he would have known that we could escape that with our eyes closed.
"What's the point?" Blake murmured into his mouth piece, only slightly breathless, echoing my own thoughts exactly. He was too far away for me to hear him with a naked ear, though I saw his lips move and his serious gaze slide over to me. "What's the point, if not to distract us?"
I felt my eyes get big and I spun around.
The girl – this surrogate me – was standing, crying, not quite where I had left her. At first glance, her form was against the blackness of the open doorway now instead of against the wall.
"Hey," I started impulsively, stepping toward her. My feet and speech stopped simultaneously as I took in the details of what was before me.
There was a long, lavender-clad arm tucked around her collar bone, too close to her slender throat. A long hand was curled around a pistol, the barrel of which rested on her temple. I couldn't see the face of her captor, but I didn't need to. I would recognize those hands anywhere.
No.
I felt myself screaming to step back – no, to grab the girl and run – no, to grab Blake and run. My indecision was inconsequential in that moment, however, thanks to the complete paralysis that locked me tightly in place.
Just as I realized I was paralyzed, the girl was guided forward a slow step by the man to her back. Anemic light fell across tall shoulders and was beginning to light up a white-painted neck when my focus fell on the girl. A white, red, and black face materialized directly above her sweat-laden forehead. She was panting, her pretty features contorted in pure fright. Her big saucer eyes were filled with giant tears that tumbled down her face and onto the fabric of the man's shirt as I watched, leaving little dark splotches. Even in my peripheral vision, I could tell he was bigger and meaner-looking since our last encounter. The muscles in his arms, though present before, were much more pronounced and vicious-looking now as they ripple to resist the girl's half-hearted struggling against him. The girl looked small, hopelessly small, against his broad purple chest.
It's like he's been preparing for this.
"Well, well, well – lah," his strange and achingly familiar voice lilted, "If it isn't the Bat Brats I've heard so much about come to save the damsel –" a strong hand grabbed her throat and squeezed to emphasize each world, "in," squeeze, "distress," squeeze.
The girl's face burned bright pink and she was no longer looking at me with those big eyes. She was just cramping her eyes shut tight and struggling to pry the fingers from her neck. Her garbled cry was what broke me from my paralysis.
My hand jolted quickly towards the gun strapped to my thigh. Just as my fingers met the cold metal of the handle, his voice uttered, "At-tah-tah." And then, for the first time in a long time and quite by accident, I met eyes with the Joker. His eyes were as black and dark and hungry as I remembered, jabbing right at me from over the girl's copper head. I felt his gaze slam through me as physically as a hit. His eyes were mocking, his face tilted forward and a wild grin split the lower half of his face. I was eternally grateful for the goggles over my eyes so he couldn't see the pain in them as our last encounter flickered through me.
The moment our gazes touched, he tilted his head inquisitively, as a dog would when it hears a curious sound. For a moment, I was sure he could see my eyes beneath my goggles. Pure fucking dread replaced the blood in veins as his eyes got narrower and his grin got wider. His eyes slipped down to my mouth and I couldn't help but wonder if he was looking for my telltale scar, obscured almost completely by my red lipstick.
Oh, god. Does he know it's me?
I was immobile again. His eyes continued their descent from my lips down to my body until his gaze flicked back up to mine. He looked smug, as if he was aware of the paralysis spell he'd put on me. His tongue flicked out against his lips and brought to mind the forked tongue of a serpent. I could see his fingers subconsciously tighten again around the girl's neck, as if he was imagining doing that to me. The girl struggled again for breath.
No, no, no, no…
This can't be real.
But it is real, and this girl needs your help.
"Step away from the girl," Blake's voice boomed over my shoulder. If I wasn't so paralyzed, I would have jumped. Only a moment had passed since The Joker had stepped forward into the light, but it felt like a small eternity.
The Joker blinked lazily at me and tilted his chin up. "Mmmmm," the Joker murmured, jutting his lip out like a child. His hand moved away from her neck thankfully, but began to slither down her shoulder. The girl gasped, coughing as she tried to catch her breath, "but I haven't had my fun with her yet. I've been in the clink a while and boy do I need a little fun," he hissed the last bit right into her ear, his eyes sliding first to Blake and then back to me again. His smile was smaller now, but his eyes were lidded almost as if drunk on the power the held over the three of us standing before him.
"The only way out of this alive for you is to hand her over, unharmed," my voice was impressively flat and authoritative considering the pure panic flowing through me.
"Oh, yeah?" his tone was burning with sarcasm and he cackled once, loudly, right in the girl's hair, "So I can get a bullet in the brain the second the cuffs are on? Surely, the Bat Buddies have come to realize that there is no system that can hold me for long. This little lady," he shook her and she yelped like a battered dog, still recovering from when he'd choked her, "Knows firsthand what happens when madmen are placed in incompetent hands-sah, dontcha, sweet pea?" The gun barrel pushed a curtain of her hair over her ear.
"So, what's your plan, then?" Blake snapped, trying to bring his attention away from the girl.
The Joker smiled an almost reverie-like smile, his confidence chilling, "Let me put it this way, Bat Brains – I leave here without a scratch-cha on me and her sister gets to keep breathing. I have an old friend watching her house at, oh, what is it? 61 Cherry Street? Isn't that right, cupcake-kah?"
The girl grimaced and began to sob again. My blood boiled at his reference to her – his old pet name for me – and I remembered all-too-clearly the emotions that played out on the girl's face as she processed two simple facts: The Joker wasn't bluffing and she was completely at the mercy of a maniac. To add insult to injury, he slithered his hand around her waist and pulled her to him sharply, caressing her neck with the gun. He growled right into the side of her face, "I asked you a question, didn't I? You remember what happens when you don't answer my questions, dontcha?"
"Enough," Blake asserted, but The Joker was getting giddy, eyes still heady with impending victory as he slid his gaze back to Blake.
"Oh, and – how could I forget to mention this? Silly, silly me. If I don't call my old pal in ten minutes with the aye-oh-kay, he's going to put a bullet in her sister's little brain. Not quite enough time for you two to get there, I'm afraid. No, the only hero that can save your little sissy's life is little old me. And, I have to ask, if I'm going to do you Bat Brats a big favor like saving a girl's life – it's only fair of me to ask for a reward in return, isn't it?"
My Blake and I met eyes and his jaw was working. He was processing, trying to reason a way out, trying to figure out if The Joker might be bluffing, and no doubt dreading each passing moment that was one more moment we weren't racing toward this girl's sister.
But he needn't worry, I knew the solution to our predicament that I felt barreling towards us. And, if The Joker didn't arrive that his conclusion sooner rather than later, I knew that I would step in and offer it myself if need be.
I will not let anyone else get hurt because of me.
The Joker smacked his lips, bringing my attention back to him instead of the swirling abyss I'd felt opening up beneath me. His penetrating gaze was back on me as he swayed slightly with the girl in his arms, pistol back at her temple, "But, ya know… I might have an alternative proposition-nah…. a merciful change of heart," I resisted the urge to shut my eyes as he said what I knew he would say, "I'd take a Bat Babe in exchange for my little prize. Either one, and I'll let little sis live."
"No," Blake's voice was authoritative, booming, saying what my whole body screamed.
No, no, no, no, no.
But, looking into the girl's pleading eyes, I forced my lips to shape the word, "Yes."
The Joker bit his lip, smothering laughter, eyes absorbing every bit of me as I felt my world crash down.
I will not let anyone else get hurt because of me. I promised I would protect her and I will, no matter what.
I felt Blake's hand close around my shoulder, restraining me, "No," Blake growled right into my ear now, furious, "You do not have a deal. She will not go with you – I won't let her."
"Please!" the girl cried out, big tears slipping down her cheeks. She wanted out from The Joker's clutches as much as I had and I was her solution. I could feel Blake stiffen at her outburst and the rage rolling off of him, but I couldn't hate the girl for wanting an out.
"Not your choice to make, is it, Bat Boy?" The Joker taunted, licking his red lips as his eyes wandered over me again. My skin pricked and tingled in apprehension where he looked and I wished nothing more than to disappear.
"No!" Blake moved to stand between The Joker and I, gripping my shoulders so hard it almost hurt, "Don't do this, we can figure out another way," he whispered urgently to me. He was obstructing my view of the girl, the only person I cared about in this moment, trying to obstruct my view of the unfortunate truth of the situation. Any move toward the girl by us would result in a bullet in her brain. There was only one way to save her from the horrors that may come.
"This is the only choice," I whispered with a resolve that surprised me, my plan forming as I spoke, "I'll kill him before he realizes it's me."
"And what if you can't? He has a gun and you know he's going to make it so you can't fight back one way or another. What if he makes you take off your mask?"
"Then you go hide the girls and come save me. You know my suit has a tracker."
"Tick, tock, Bat Buddies!" The Joker ushered impatiently over our hushed conversation.
Blake's lips were pressed tightly together, nostrils flared, trying to think of another way out of this before sudden resolve steeled his expression beneath the mask, "I can't lose you again." His grip tightened further on my shoulders.
"And I can't let someone else get hurt because of me. This is our best chance to save the girls and take him down," I showed him a brief flash of my palm and the tiny yellow tracker that I planned to tuck somewhere away on The Joker in the event that he got away.
Blake peered down at the tracker with a look of disgust as I tucked it discreetly into my sleeve. The Joker's view was still obstructed by Blake's body.
"Well, that's it, I guess, little trophy," The Joker projected. Blake and I turned to see him taking steps back into the darkness of the home and I wondered if there was a boat waiting for him at the dock back there. Was that how he snuck in behind us? "I guess the Bat Besties aren't the heroes they pretend to be!"
"No!" the girl shrieked helplessly, beginning to fight back by shredding The Joker's arm with her nails. Blood, black in the anemic and dim light, began to saturate his sleeve.
"She's a lively one," The Joker mocked, cackling. In the dim remaining light in the cabin, I saw his long fingers twist into hers and brutally wretch her fingers back. There were several dull pops that earned a strangled cry from her as several of her bones surely broke.
"Stop!" I screamed, shoving past Blake and into the doorway of the cabin. The girl was whimpering now, cradling her damaged fingers against her chest as she sobbed. Relief and dismay battled in my chest as I saw that The Joker had, in fact, stopped his descent towards the back door and the docks.
"Coming with me after all, Little Red?"
Numbness made my limbs feel like they were vibrating from the inside. I forced myself to stop thinking, just please stop thinking, and nod.
"Good girl," he licked his lips, smothering light laughter as the girl tried to pull her damaged hand away from his grip weakly, "Drop the utility belt. And whatever other gadgets you've got stowed away in the little catsuit. If I feel like there's something left, I might feel inclined to frisk ya," he warned conspiratorially.
I ground my teeth and unclipped my belt, letting it fall off me. I removed my gun from it's holster and handed it to a stoic Blake behind me. An unsettling whirl of emotions boiled in his dark, serious eyes.
"I love you," I whispered , doing everything in my power to hold back from kissing him. I would do anything and everything in my power to keep The Joker's focus off of Blake this time around and a kiss would only be fuel to the fire for which The Joker was collecting tinder. I would give him no further hints about my identity or Blake's.
I turned away from Blake towards my doom. I could see the girl was fighting to stay still, trying to hold on as she saw an end to her torment in sight.
"Farewell, Rory, sweetheart," The Joker hissed as he pushed the girl violently into my arms.
I caught her and kept her from falling, but not before she could brace her ruined fingers against my chest instinctively. She yelped in pain and I helped to steady her as she studied me with wounded, almost apologetic eyes.
There was the click of a gun. I peered up to see The Joker standing directly behind the girl, barrel flush against her scalp. I thought for a horrendous second that he would unload the pistol into her head and shower me with her blood. Instead, he curled his other hand around my right arm in a hard grip, touching me again for the first time in years. My stomach curled violently and I fought the need to get him the fuck off me as I considered the gun he had pointed at my only objective in this scenario. My body was still firmly between Blake and The Joker and I looked up at Blake, who was leveling his own gun in The Joker's direction. The threat on Blake's end was empty – he had no clear shot.
The Joker's fingers constricted sharply as he saw me meet eyes with Blake, bringing my attention back to him and the sudden crush of pain to my arm. Gun still aimed at the girl, he was peering down at me with black eyes, studying me in the dim light, trying to make out my eyes beneath my heavily-tinted goggles. If he recognized me in that moment, he didn't show any indication of it. Instead, after a thoughtful and dreadful pause, he suddenly yanked me so my front collided with his chest. The heat roiling off of him was sickening and I felt panic begin to rise in me. Before I could react, hard fingers grasped my jaw and spun me around to face Blake and the girl. I felt a cold metallic something jab into the exposed skin where my throat met my cowl. It was the gun, ready to blow my skull to bits if Blake made the slightest wrong move.
"Time's a-ticking, Bat Boy. You've got less than five minutes now to get to the girl's sister."
Blake gently and slowly hooked an arm around her waist and pushed her behind the wall of the stone hut, eyes never leaving our joined silhouette as The Joker forced me to slowly back away. Blake was waiting for any semblance of a shot, any lapse in concentration on The Joker's part that would expose just enough of his chest or head.
Please find a shot, please find a shot.
But, even if he did manage to shoot The Joker, I knew The Joker wasn't bluffing when he said his henchman would kill the girl if he didn't hear The Joker's voice in a few minutes. There was no hail Mary. There was no angel ready to pluck me from his grasp and smite him because there was no just God watching over us.
Reality was closing in on me as I felt the tickle of The Joker's air on my cowl. I could smell his sweaty, oppressive stench once more and I was touched by his excited breath on my cheek and felt the shifting of my suit beneath the inhaling and exhaling of his lungs to my back. The Joker's skin was still impossibly hot despite the chilly Gotham night, highlighting his out-of-placeness. He should not be here in these docks tonight. He should be six feet below our feet, where I thought I'd put him so many years before.
We were nearing the back of the small shack now. No, no, no, fight back, fight back! my instincts shrieked at me. I could think of a thousand ways to break out of The Joker's hold… none of which would work with a gun to my head. If I could just push the barrel of the gun away enough, it would give me a moment to initiate the rest of my assault, which may result in the gun in my hands instead of his.
Or he may blow your brains out right in front of Blake before your hand is even halfway up.
It was too risky and not the right play. I had to make sure that the girl and her sister were safe before I made any brash moves.
But so, so tempting, I thought as The Joker's hand left my jaw and slid down to my wrist. His fingers felt searingly hot as they restrained my arm threateningly. I wondered if he was secretly telepathic.
"Don't even fucking think about it," his voice was all gravel, low, and dangerous as he lightly shook me. His cheek was pressed flush to the skin on the right side of my face, right where my earpiece was so I was sure Blake heard every word.
"What if I do? I don't care if you kill me," I threatened back, ripping my wrist away from his restraining fingers.
He chuckled low, so low I could feel the vibration in his chest to my back. I felt the door jam beneath my boot as we began to move through the back door, "But you care about the girls, dontcha, sweet thing? Having to kill my hostage and ruin my perfect getaway might spoil my mood and I might feel less inclined to make that call. But you knew that already, didntcha? That's why you're gunna let The Big Bad do whatever he pleases and you're not gunna do a thing about it, right-tah?"
He was kneading the back of my neck with sickeningly warm fingers. He felt me tense beneath his hold and taunted, "Sh, sh, sh, sh, it's okay, Little Red. It's okay, you're right where you're meant to be. You were mine the second you walked in here. I watched you skulk in and out of the house looking for me, and yet you missed me completely sitting over on that chair," his chin bobbed toward a filthy recliner in the corner of the room, "You were too distracted by the girl's pathetic little cries to see the big bad wolf licking his lips, weren't you?" his grip clenched hard around the back of my neck and I attempted to pry his hand away instinctively. His fingers constricted even further and he growled into my ear, "No use fighting now, Baby Bat. You're mine now," he murmured, echoing what he said to me as he raped me those many years ago.
In that moment, my instincts completely took over and I began to wriggle in his grasp. He held fast to me, cackling as he saw Blake begin to surge forward at my sudden desperation.
"Wait! Go and save the girl, forget about me! You don't have much time!" I croaked, my throat thick with tears. Blake was paused in apprehension, "Please! Go!"
After a half of a beat, he backed up to the door and signaled for the girl to run to The Rumbler. I caught my last glimpse of his worried look before The Joker began pulling us double-time out of the hut and down the narrow pathway leading to the dock. He never let up the pressure of the gun to my jaw, even as he began chuckling to himself.
"What's so –" I grunted as he stopped restraining my wrist to wind his fingers through my hair and pull back harshly, "What's so fucking funny?!"
"Oh, nothing, Little Red," I forced myself to focus on pulling the tracker out of my sleeve. I was just slipping the little hard square into his pocket when he made my heart sink, "I just want us to have a good spot for the fireworks."
Fireworks? Oh, god, Blake. The girl!
"No!" I shrieked at the same time that The Joker yanked me back by my hair harshly. I landed with a clatter, thankful in this moment for my armor as my back landed rather painfully on a hard metal edge. I looked around to see that he had flung me backwards into a speed boat.
I hadn't yet heard the engine of The Rumbler start up, surely the intended target of the explosion.
My earpiece! Blake could still hear everything that I was saying.
"He's put a bomb on The Rumbler!" I screamed.
The Joker rolled his eyes, taking me in as if I was a naughty child that he couldn't help but laugh at, "Those damn earpieces."
He was still standing above me on the dock. With a sudden, wild lurch, The Joker's brown shoe flew toward me and oblivion followed.