[Fic] Funny Business (6/7)
Sorry for the delay! I wound up rewriting parts of this, and it took longer than I thought. Wanted to post this last night, but I got caught up in The Dark Knight's viral ad campaign finale (during which I nicked advanced screening tickets :D).
Title: Funny Business, Part 6 (of 7)
Series: TDS, TCR, Batman
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, violence, clowns. Includes some comic book logic.
Summary: They say dying is easy and comedy is hard, and for writerless Jon and Stephen, it's never been more true-- until they're paid a visit by Gotham City's most notorious comedian.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
(Jump to Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7)
Stephen couldn't blame Batman for leaving Joker's henchwoman behind, not with Donovan's neck to worry about. He himself wouldn't have expected her to recover from a throw like that when all the bulky goons were still out for the count. Then again, he should've realized from reputation: Gotham's costumed criminals were not to be underestimated.
"I really don't fancy taking hostages for myself, lady," Harley said, holding the scissors steady beneath Allison's chin, "but as cozy as a room at Arkham is, I'd rather play outside a little longer. Don't take it personally."
"Yeah," Allison squeaked, staring straight at Stephen. "Okay."
"Look, just... just calm down," Stephen said, holding out his hands placatingly.
"You ain't calling the shots here, bucko," Harley snapped. "Where's Mistah J?"
"He's upstairs," Stephen said, "with Donovan and Batman."
"I think Curly Sue and I should join 'em then," Harley replied, dragging Allison towards the bleachers.
Stephen's chest tightened as he stared at the shears pressing into Allison's skin. "God, one hostage isn't enough?" he said angrily, feeling useless. "Isn't copying your boss overdoing it?"
Harley paused, to Stephen's surprise. It was only a split second, but it was still clear that what he'd said was worth considering. "Nah, he'll be proud," she decided.
On instinct, Stephen pounced. "Well, yeah, I suppose," he said coolly, looking Allison in the eye, trying to tell her to stay calm.
Harley's voice hardened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well," he went on, "I know they say imitation is the best form of flattery, but in my experience it's kind've... you know... pathetic."
"Pathetic?!" Her fist tightened further around the handle of the scissors. Allison looked like she wanted to kill him.
"Well, I mean, really," Stephen hurried on. "You and Mister J, you're a double-act, right?"
"Okay." She was following him, but her tone said he damn well better make it quick.
"If he was to tell a joke, you know, one of his real doosies, really brought the house down," probably with severe internal hemorrhaging, "and then you followed up by telling the same joke, what would he think?"
Finally, that look on her face appeared, the same look from when Joker scolded her earlier. "He wouldn't be too happy."
"Exactly! You're not here to try to steal his act, are you?"
"Of course not!!"
"You're here to help his act!"
"Yes!"
"So why are you here instead of helping him off Donovan?"
Allison's jaw dropped. "Stephen!"
He shook his head solemnly. "Allison, you're more important than he is." He quickly turned his attention back to Harley. "And you, I know you can do better than this! I've read about you! You were, uh, you were a doctor, right? Getting that degree must've been no easy feat. Just imagine what you could pull off and impress Joker with!"
Harley didn't let go of Allison, not yet, but they were nearly there. "You think I'm just gonna let ya's both go?" she scoffed.
Stephen held up his hands. "Hey, why not? You've got the gun. What are we gonna do? Police are already outside, but Joker's still got a hostage. We're superfluous. Nothing's worse than an overdone joke."
Harley stared at him for a long moment and he held her gaze. She slowly pulled the shears away from Allison's throat, then shoved her forward into Stephen.
He quickly got Allison behind him. "Believe me, you're doing the right--"
“Can it,” Harley snapped, glaring distrustfully, and she turned on her heel to go. But she suddenly stopped, back straightening like a rod. "Waaaaiiit a minute!" she exclaimed. "Isn't your whole gig," she said, turning, "imitating that O'Wily guy on--"
She didn't finish. Stephen smashed the empty, grinning gas dispenser down on her head, and she crumpled to the floor.
Hand to her throat, Allison stared down at Harley. “Jesus.” She looked up at Stephen. “That's his girlfriend?”
Stephen dropped the box with a clang and nodded. “She's a catch, huh?” he said, voice cracking.
Allison laughed wearily and grabbed his arm. She pulled him away from Harley towards the door. “Let's get out of here before she wakes up and catches us.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said, following for a few steps, then stopping. “Wait.”
Allison didn't look back at him. She kept her eyes trained on the door and her hand around his arm. Surely she could simply will him to keep walking. “I swear, if you start in about Donovan--”
“I don't know that Batman can stop Joker before Donovan gets hurt. I can't just-”
Allison threw up her hands and spun around. “You can't just be an idiot!” she yelled.
He smiled apologetically. “I can't just do nothing.”
Do nothing? This was a case where doing something could just get in the way and screw things up even worse. That's what she wanted to say, but he was already stepping back.
“Just go wait outside,” he said, and to her shock he turned and ran off, disappearing backstage.
She didn't know how to react and just stood there, sputtering. “S-Stephen?!” Did he really just do that? He really just did that! And he really expected her to just leave without him.
“Oh, dammit!” she cursed, taking off after him.
~ | ~
The stairwell was cold, and it only got colder the higher he climbed, the closer he got to the open door at the top. He readied a batarang as he stepped cautiously out onto the roof, eyes quickly scanning the area. The sky was black, but the orange glow of the city lights was enough to see by. He saw no one, but he could hear Donovan's whimpers. He moved around to the other side of the roof, and there they were, standing on the ledge. The streetlights below, at Joker's back, cast the clown's face in shadow, yet his grin still gleamed like razors. He seemed to not move at all despite Donovan's shaking. Noise rolled up from the street-- the shouts of a crowd, a cop on a megaphone.
"What will this accomplish, Joker?" Batman said. "So you kill him. Then what? You think no one else will ever write about you, try to cash in on your psychosis?"
"Oh, I know they already have. Psychological journals mostly, nothing the layman would be interested in. But not this one, no." The Joker's expression of self-satisfaction was insufferable. "No, old Donovan's tome is a sensational piece. I practically devoured it myself."
"Not surprising," Batman retorted.
"Sensational," the Joker repeated. "Who cares if any of it is true? It's about me. The way I see it, everyone should give it a read! And what gets more attention than a fabulous stunt on live television, with a guaranteed superhero guest star, no less?"
"Of course," Batman growled. "Your vanity has no boundaries."
"I credit it for my high self-esteem! You should give it a shot." Joker punctuated the remark by popping the gun barrel into Donovan's temple. "Might improve that somber disposition."
"Let him go, Joker."
"Oh, all right. Back to business then. Well, feel free to write his fate with any of the old tropes, Batsy!" Joker swayed back and forth on the ledge, holding Donovan close. "Let's see, the cops won't shoot since I might take Kirky down to the pavement. I suppose you could disarm me in just the nick of time and save him, and then I could either fall safely onto this roof or fall four stories down to the sidewalk...
"Though, I do prefer a good ol' downer ending myself. They're so rare, you know." He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "What do you think? Should I use him to break my fall or just give him a Hemingway makeover?"
"Joker--"
"The latter would probably work better. 'The gun on the wall' and all that."
The batarang whooshed over Donovan's head, trimming his hair before snagging Joker's wrist. The clown cried out in pain, dropping the gun, and when he looked forward again the Bat was in his face. Donovan dove for the ground as the enemies grappled, Batman striking the Joker's face twice before the clown went for the flower on his lapel and let loose a stream of green liquid. Batman dodged and the two separated. The acid splattered onto the rooftop and sizzled.
Donovan breathed hard, his wide-eyed stare ricocheting from clown to bat. He'd gone for the wrong side of the roof; when he got to his feet he was near the edge instead the center, far from the door that led back down into the building. He wouldn't get there without crossing Joker's path.
But that didn't matter, Batman told himself. Joker only had so much acid left in his flower. Taking him down wouldn't be difficult at this point.
Joker wiped at the blood trailing from his nose with his sleeve. He glanced at the blood on his arm and chuckled, eyes flickering from Batman to Donovan. The maniacal giggle erupted into all-out laughter as he revealed the batarang hidden in his hand. He stretched his arm back over his head and shouted, "I think your fifteen minutes of fame are just about over, Kirk!"
Joker flung the weapon, and though in a flash Batman had another in his hand, he knew as he threw it that he was a split second too late. And he was right; his batarang missed the Joker's by a hair. The Joker's aim was true, and the batarang's pointed end lodged into Donovan's shoulder. He screamed as he reeled back, calves hitting the edge of the roof, body following through as he fell over the side.
~ | ~
Allison finally caught up to Stephen on the third floor. She pulled on his arm desperately. "This is insane!" she hissed.
Stephen kept pulling forward. "I can't just leave!"
Allison gave up trying to hold him back and quickly moved to stand in his way instead. "Why the hell not?” she demanded, holding her arms wide.
He tried to push around her. "Donovan is my guest. I brought him here, into all this, and if anything happens to him I'll always wonder--"
"If you could've done something?" Allison interrupted, standing her ground. "If you could've done what, Stephen?"
"I don't know, but--"
She grabbed his face with both hands and made him look her in the face. "Trust me," she said slowly, "I know how you're feeling right now, but this isn't your fault. We are going downstairs. We are getting out of here before we find out that lunatic planted another b--"
A scream and a bang. Not a gunshot, more like a heavy bag hitting a wall. The screaming went on and on, joined by the sound of a hollering crowd.
“What was that?” Stephen said, at the same time Allison said, “Is that outside?”
Stephen went into the closest room, to the window. “No, I think it's over here!” Allison said, hurrying into the next room. Stephen looked out the window, at the cops behind the barricade in the street. Shouting civilians-- the escaped audience-- were among them, their mouths open, hands gesturing towards the building.
Allison screamed.
Stephen raced to the next room, and was momentarily struck dumb in the doorway when he saw her tugging at the window and, just beyond the glass, a taut rope swaying from side to side. She got the window open and yelled for Stephen as she hung halfway out into open air.
Stephen was across the room in an instant and looked down at Donovan, hanging from a strong black rope wrapped about his body. The rope was held in place by a metal hook, the exaggerated curve of a bat wing. Donovan's weight pulled on the rope, making its hold tighter, cutting into his arms stuck at his sides. Something sharp stuck out of his shoulder. Allison had the rope in her hands and pulled it closer to the building.
"Help me get him up!" she said as she strained.
As she spoke the rope suddenly tugged upwards and she let go with a cry, holding her hand to her chest. Already there was a red burn mark across her palm. Stephen could hear laughter on the roof. The rope slacked abruptly and Donovan screamed as he fell, choking on his voice when the rope went taut again, leaving him lower than he was before.
"Jesus," Stephen breathed, then reached out the window, tentatively going for the rope again. Allison breathed heavily over his shoulder, and they both drew back when the pull of the rope lifted Donovan up again about a foot. Joker obviously wasn't giving Batman a chance to get the man back to safety.
"Just-just hold on!" Allison shouted to Donovan, who scrunched his eyes shut.
Stephen got a hold of the window frame with one hand and leaned out as far as he dared to grab the rope. He was successful and pulled Donovan closer. Once he felt like he wouldn't tumble three stories in front of the awed onlookers, he let go of the window, reached down, and grabbed onto the back of Donovan's suit coat.
"Help," he squeaked.
Allison squeezed beside him in the small window and managed to reach out one arm and grab Donovan's sleeve. Together they pulled upwards. On the street below people shouted encouragingly, then suddenly burst into screams. A gunshot rang out and the blue awning below rippled. Stephen and Allison instinctively ducked their heads, though they kept hold on Donovan's jacket.
"Since when are you two in this scene?" the Joker cackled. Up above their heads, with one foot locked against the brick wall, he hung off the edge of the roof by one hand. The other hand pointed a smoking gun in their direction.
"Hurry, hurry," Allison hissed.
Another shot. The rope stretching towards the roof slackened and it's frayed end fell from above. It was only them holding Donovan up now, but they almost had him in.
"Why do people love to play hero?" Joker shouted. His voice trilled, high with excitement, not at all concerned to be hanging off the side of a building.
Donovan's coat started to slip from Stephen's grasp. He heard Allison straining. Another shot rang out, but the shouting from Joker that followed wasn't directed at them.
"Getting old, Batsy?!" A cackle. "Just one bullet is all it takes now? I'd expect it from these fools."
Stephen knew the next shot was coming, but he wasn't expecting it to hit Allison. She screamed and fell back. Blood spattered onto his jacket and as he screamed her name Donovan's weight pulled him forward. He latched his free hand onto Donovan's collar, but he was hanging out the window now, the crowd below screeching and the Joker above laughing. Allison's trembling voice came behind him, cursing between insisting, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay..."
"Well, looks like I can wrap this up with one more shot!" Joker shouted. "Think of it this way, Stevie: you're going out with a bang! And Kirk with a splat, but hey, we can't all be so lucky!"
Stephen couldn't pull Donovan in alone. His legs were about to give out and send him sailing out the window. But, God, he couldn't let go. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the bullet.
Title: Funny Business, Part 6 (of 7)
Series: TDS, TCR, Batman
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, violence, clowns. Includes some comic book logic.
Summary: They say dying is easy and comedy is hard, and for writerless Jon and Stephen, it's never been more true-- until they're paid a visit by Gotham City's most notorious comedian.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
(Jump to Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7)
Stephen couldn't blame Batman for leaving Joker's henchwoman behind, not with Donovan's neck to worry about. He himself wouldn't have expected her to recover from a throw like that when all the bulky goons were still out for the count. Then again, he should've realized from reputation: Gotham's costumed criminals were not to be underestimated.
"I really don't fancy taking hostages for myself, lady," Harley said, holding the scissors steady beneath Allison's chin, "but as cozy as a room at Arkham is, I'd rather play outside a little longer. Don't take it personally."
"Yeah," Allison squeaked, staring straight at Stephen. "Okay."
"Look, just... just calm down," Stephen said, holding out his hands placatingly.
"You ain't calling the shots here, bucko," Harley snapped. "Where's Mistah J?"
"He's upstairs," Stephen said, "with Donovan and Batman."
"I think Curly Sue and I should join 'em then," Harley replied, dragging Allison towards the bleachers.
Stephen's chest tightened as he stared at the shears pressing into Allison's skin. "God, one hostage isn't enough?" he said angrily, feeling useless. "Isn't copying your boss overdoing it?"
Harley paused, to Stephen's surprise. It was only a split second, but it was still clear that what he'd said was worth considering. "Nah, he'll be proud," she decided.
On instinct, Stephen pounced. "Well, yeah, I suppose," he said coolly, looking Allison in the eye, trying to tell her to stay calm.
Harley's voice hardened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well," he went on, "I know they say imitation is the best form of flattery, but in my experience it's kind've... you know... pathetic."
"Pathetic?!" Her fist tightened further around the handle of the scissors. Allison looked like she wanted to kill him.
"Well, I mean, really," Stephen hurried on. "You and Mister J, you're a double-act, right?"
"Okay." She was following him, but her tone said he damn well better make it quick.
"If he was to tell a joke, you know, one of his real doosies, really brought the house down," probably with severe internal hemorrhaging, "and then you followed up by telling the same joke, what would he think?"
Finally, that look on her face appeared, the same look from when Joker scolded her earlier. "He wouldn't be too happy."
"Exactly! You're not here to try to steal his act, are you?"
"Of course not!!"
"You're here to help his act!"
"Yes!"
"So why are you here instead of helping him off Donovan?"
Allison's jaw dropped. "Stephen!"
He shook his head solemnly. "Allison, you're more important than he is." He quickly turned his attention back to Harley. "And you, I know you can do better than this! I've read about you! You were, uh, you were a doctor, right? Getting that degree must've been no easy feat. Just imagine what you could pull off and impress Joker with!"
Harley didn't let go of Allison, not yet, but they were nearly there. "You think I'm just gonna let ya's both go?" she scoffed.
Stephen held up his hands. "Hey, why not? You've got the gun. What are we gonna do? Police are already outside, but Joker's still got a hostage. We're superfluous. Nothing's worse than an overdone joke."
Harley stared at him for a long moment and he held her gaze. She slowly pulled the shears away from Allison's throat, then shoved her forward into Stephen.
He quickly got Allison behind him. "Believe me, you're doing the right--"
“Can it,” Harley snapped, glaring distrustfully, and she turned on her heel to go. But she suddenly stopped, back straightening like a rod. "Waaaaiiit a minute!" she exclaimed. "Isn't your whole gig," she said, turning, "imitating that O'Wily guy on--"
She didn't finish. Stephen smashed the empty, grinning gas dispenser down on her head, and she crumpled to the floor.
Hand to her throat, Allison stared down at Harley. “Jesus.” She looked up at Stephen. “That's his girlfriend?”
Stephen dropped the box with a clang and nodded. “She's a catch, huh?” he said, voice cracking.
Allison laughed wearily and grabbed his arm. She pulled him away from Harley towards the door. “Let's get out of here before she wakes up and catches us.”
“Yeah,” Stephen said, following for a few steps, then stopping. “Wait.”
Allison didn't look back at him. She kept her eyes trained on the door and her hand around his arm. Surely she could simply will him to keep walking. “I swear, if you start in about Donovan--”
“I don't know that Batman can stop Joker before Donovan gets hurt. I can't just-”
Allison threw up her hands and spun around. “You can't just be an idiot!” she yelled.
He smiled apologetically. “I can't just do nothing.”
Do nothing? This was a case where doing something could just get in the way and screw things up even worse. That's what she wanted to say, but he was already stepping back.
“Just go wait outside,” he said, and to her shock he turned and ran off, disappearing backstage.
She didn't know how to react and just stood there, sputtering. “S-Stephen?!” Did he really just do that? He really just did that! And he really expected her to just leave without him.
“Oh, dammit!” she cursed, taking off after him.
~ | ~
The stairwell was cold, and it only got colder the higher he climbed, the closer he got to the open door at the top. He readied a batarang as he stepped cautiously out onto the roof, eyes quickly scanning the area. The sky was black, but the orange glow of the city lights was enough to see by. He saw no one, but he could hear Donovan's whimpers. He moved around to the other side of the roof, and there they were, standing on the ledge. The streetlights below, at Joker's back, cast the clown's face in shadow, yet his grin still gleamed like razors. He seemed to not move at all despite Donovan's shaking. Noise rolled up from the street-- the shouts of a crowd, a cop on a megaphone.
"What will this accomplish, Joker?" Batman said. "So you kill him. Then what? You think no one else will ever write about you, try to cash in on your psychosis?"
"Oh, I know they already have. Psychological journals mostly, nothing the layman would be interested in. But not this one, no." The Joker's expression of self-satisfaction was insufferable. "No, old Donovan's tome is a sensational piece. I practically devoured it myself."
"Not surprising," Batman retorted.
"Sensational," the Joker repeated. "Who cares if any of it is true? It's about me. The way I see it, everyone should give it a read! And what gets more attention than a fabulous stunt on live television, with a guaranteed superhero guest star, no less?"
"Of course," Batman growled. "Your vanity has no boundaries."
"I credit it for my high self-esteem! You should give it a shot." Joker punctuated the remark by popping the gun barrel into Donovan's temple. "Might improve that somber disposition."
"Let him go, Joker."
"Oh, all right. Back to business then. Well, feel free to write his fate with any of the old tropes, Batsy!" Joker swayed back and forth on the ledge, holding Donovan close. "Let's see, the cops won't shoot since I might take Kirky down to the pavement. I suppose you could disarm me in just the nick of time and save him, and then I could either fall safely onto this roof or fall four stories down to the sidewalk...
"Though, I do prefer a good ol' downer ending myself. They're so rare, you know." He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "What do you think? Should I use him to break my fall or just give him a Hemingway makeover?"
"Joker--"
"The latter would probably work better. 'The gun on the wall' and all that."
The batarang whooshed over Donovan's head, trimming his hair before snagging Joker's wrist. The clown cried out in pain, dropping the gun, and when he looked forward again the Bat was in his face. Donovan dove for the ground as the enemies grappled, Batman striking the Joker's face twice before the clown went for the flower on his lapel and let loose a stream of green liquid. Batman dodged and the two separated. The acid splattered onto the rooftop and sizzled.
Donovan breathed hard, his wide-eyed stare ricocheting from clown to bat. He'd gone for the wrong side of the roof; when he got to his feet he was near the edge instead the center, far from the door that led back down into the building. He wouldn't get there without crossing Joker's path.
But that didn't matter, Batman told himself. Joker only had so much acid left in his flower. Taking him down wouldn't be difficult at this point.
Joker wiped at the blood trailing from his nose with his sleeve. He glanced at the blood on his arm and chuckled, eyes flickering from Batman to Donovan. The maniacal giggle erupted into all-out laughter as he revealed the batarang hidden in his hand. He stretched his arm back over his head and shouted, "I think your fifteen minutes of fame are just about over, Kirk!"
Joker flung the weapon, and though in a flash Batman had another in his hand, he knew as he threw it that he was a split second too late. And he was right; his batarang missed the Joker's by a hair. The Joker's aim was true, and the batarang's pointed end lodged into Donovan's shoulder. He screamed as he reeled back, calves hitting the edge of the roof, body following through as he fell over the side.
~ | ~
Allison finally caught up to Stephen on the third floor. She pulled on his arm desperately. "This is insane!" she hissed.
Stephen kept pulling forward. "I can't just leave!"
Allison gave up trying to hold him back and quickly moved to stand in his way instead. "Why the hell not?” she demanded, holding her arms wide.
He tried to push around her. "Donovan is my guest. I brought him here, into all this, and if anything happens to him I'll always wonder--"
"If you could've done something?" Allison interrupted, standing her ground. "If you could've done what, Stephen?"
"I don't know, but--"
She grabbed his face with both hands and made him look her in the face. "Trust me," she said slowly, "I know how you're feeling right now, but this isn't your fault. We are going downstairs. We are getting out of here before we find out that lunatic planted another b--"
A scream and a bang. Not a gunshot, more like a heavy bag hitting a wall. The screaming went on and on, joined by the sound of a hollering crowd.
“What was that?” Stephen said, at the same time Allison said, “Is that outside?”
Stephen went into the closest room, to the window. “No, I think it's over here!” Allison said, hurrying into the next room. Stephen looked out the window, at the cops behind the barricade in the street. Shouting civilians-- the escaped audience-- were among them, their mouths open, hands gesturing towards the building.
Allison screamed.
Stephen raced to the next room, and was momentarily struck dumb in the doorway when he saw her tugging at the window and, just beyond the glass, a taut rope swaying from side to side. She got the window open and yelled for Stephen as she hung halfway out into open air.
Stephen was across the room in an instant and looked down at Donovan, hanging from a strong black rope wrapped about his body. The rope was held in place by a metal hook, the exaggerated curve of a bat wing. Donovan's weight pulled on the rope, making its hold tighter, cutting into his arms stuck at his sides. Something sharp stuck out of his shoulder. Allison had the rope in her hands and pulled it closer to the building.
"Help me get him up!" she said as she strained.
As she spoke the rope suddenly tugged upwards and she let go with a cry, holding her hand to her chest. Already there was a red burn mark across her palm. Stephen could hear laughter on the roof. The rope slacked abruptly and Donovan screamed as he fell, choking on his voice when the rope went taut again, leaving him lower than he was before.
"Jesus," Stephen breathed, then reached out the window, tentatively going for the rope again. Allison breathed heavily over his shoulder, and they both drew back when the pull of the rope lifted Donovan up again about a foot. Joker obviously wasn't giving Batman a chance to get the man back to safety.
"Just-just hold on!" Allison shouted to Donovan, who scrunched his eyes shut.
Stephen got a hold of the window frame with one hand and leaned out as far as he dared to grab the rope. He was successful and pulled Donovan closer. Once he felt like he wouldn't tumble three stories in front of the awed onlookers, he let go of the window, reached down, and grabbed onto the back of Donovan's suit coat.
"Help," he squeaked.
Allison squeezed beside him in the small window and managed to reach out one arm and grab Donovan's sleeve. Together they pulled upwards. On the street below people shouted encouragingly, then suddenly burst into screams. A gunshot rang out and the blue awning below rippled. Stephen and Allison instinctively ducked their heads, though they kept hold on Donovan's jacket.
"Since when are you two in this scene?" the Joker cackled. Up above their heads, with one foot locked against the brick wall, he hung off the edge of the roof by one hand. The other hand pointed a smoking gun in their direction.
"Hurry, hurry," Allison hissed.
Another shot. The rope stretching towards the roof slackened and it's frayed end fell from above. It was only them holding Donovan up now, but they almost had him in.
"Why do people love to play hero?" Joker shouted. His voice trilled, high with excitement, not at all concerned to be hanging off the side of a building.
Donovan's coat started to slip from Stephen's grasp. He heard Allison straining. Another shot rang out, but the shouting from Joker that followed wasn't directed at them.
"Getting old, Batsy?!" A cackle. "Just one bullet is all it takes now? I'd expect it from these fools."
Stephen knew the next shot was coming, but he wasn't expecting it to hit Allison. She screamed and fell back. Blood spattered onto his jacket and as he screamed her name Donovan's weight pulled him forward. He latched his free hand onto Donovan's collar, but he was hanging out the window now, the crowd below screeching and the Joker above laughing. Allison's trembling voice came behind him, cursing between insisting, "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay..."
"Well, looks like I can wrap this up with one more shot!" Joker shouted. "Think of it this way, Stevie: you're going out with a bang! And Kirk with a splat, but hey, we can't all be so lucky!"
Stephen couldn't pull Donovan in alone. His legs were about to give out and send him sailing out the window. But, God, he couldn't let go. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the bullet.