[Fic] Funny Business (7/7)
Okay. I just have to say:
The Dark Knight? Is amazing. I am truly disappointed we'll never get to see Ledger reprise his role. But I definitely order encourage you to see it! I can't wait for midnight tomorrow to see it again.
Anywho, here's the end! (Almost thought I wouldn't get it done before the movie's official release!)
Title: Funny Business, Part 7 (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)
"NO!"
The voice was deep, angry, rumbling over the screaming crowd. The Joker let out a surprised cry just as arms wrapped around Stephen's waist and pulled. "I've got you!" Allison puffed as Stephen felt the force of gravity shift back into the building. He dug his fingers into Donovan's coat the best he could as they slowly slid over the window sill into the room. He managed one glance upwards and caught the black figure on the roof reaching over the edge to fight with Joker for the gun.
Then Stephen couldn't see them; he was back inside, and Donovan was squeezing through the window. When he was most of the way in, Stephen's arms gave out, and the author's own weight took him the rest of the way.
Stephen still heard shouting and scrambled back to the window on his knees, looking out and up in time to see the gun fly from Joker's grasp. Shots rang out, and it took a moment for Stephen to realize that the Joker's gun had not gone off, but someone else-- presumably the police-- had fired. The Joker's hand slipped from the roof, but Batman grabbed the collar of the clown's jacket just in time, and the criminal dangled.
"Guess they finally got a shot lined up," Allison grunted.
Stephen turned to nod, and finally noticed that Donovan still laid on the floor face first. Stephen ignored the ache in his arms and quickly sat him upright. He inspected the metal shard in Donovan's shoulder (now he realized it was sculpted, that it was Batman's) but knew better than to touch it. The cable wrapped tightly around his arms looked almost as painful, but Stephen doubted scissors would cut it. He looked over at Allison. Her sleeve was torn at the forearm, and it looked like she was bleeding badly. She tried to wrap what was left of her sleeve around the wound. "I'm okay," she panted. "It didn't go in."
He heard noises and shouts elsewhere in the building. The police were coming in. Stephen got up. "You both need a doctor. Come on." He helped Donovan to his feet. The writer didn't look up from the floor, as if he were reminding himself that it was there and he was no longer writhing above the ground like a worm on a hook.
"I don't suppose," Allison said, laughing weakly, "that you'd like to reschedule your interview?"
~ | ~
If the cops hadn't let Jon through, they would have regretted it, because he would've... would've... Okay, he wasn't sure what he would have done. Probably have a private meltdown without proof, right then, that Stephen was okay. But he was allowed past the police tape and directed towards Stephen with vague, hassled gestures.
Jon looked around, trying to see past the flashing lights and the bustle of officers, EMTs, and civilians. The noise level was high and disorienting, and he didn't pick out the low, constant giggling until someone bumped past him, causing him to turn and find himself facing the Joker.
The clown lay back on a stretcher, covered with a blanket up to his armpits, arms at his sides. For a moment Jon thought there were silver bangles around his wrists, but realized his hands were actually handcuffed to the stretcher. Thankfully, the clown's eyes were closed and he seemed to be unconscious. He giggled deliriously, as though he was having a wonderful dream. Jon nervously craned his neck, trying to figure out where beneath the blanket the Joker had been shot. He tried not to feel disappointed that the wounds weren't fatal.
Jon didn't realize the EMTs were there until they collapsed the stretcher to load it into a nearby ambulance. Several police officers were gathered beside it, and two argued. The lower-ranking man didn't want his men in such close proximity to a veritable psycho, demanding that a riot squad be brought in instead. But he lost, and four officers climbed into the back of the ambulance, much to the relief of the medical personnel. As the doors closed, Jon thought of every horror movie he'd ever seen and wished them the best.
"WAIT, WAIT!" a female voice shrieked, making him jump out of his skin. He whirled around. Harley Quinn, battered, her hands cuffed behind her back, was being restrained by three officers as she strained to get closer to the ambulance. "Let me go with him! Please!" For a moment, the distress on her face was pitiable, but the longer the cops held her back, the more absurdly comical her expression became. "He needs me! Who'll get his clothes laundered? What about his vitamins?! WHAT IF HE NEEDS HIS WHOOPIE CUSHION?"
Okay. That was enough for Jon, and he backed away, warily turning around. And then he spotted him. Stephen sat on the back bumper of an open ambulance, parked alongside the studio, and Jon nearly plowed over another EMT to get to him.
"Jesus, Stephen!" he shouted, throwing his arms around his friend. He suddenly felt so tired, as if the hours of worry had been the only thing holding him up.
"Hi," Stephen said quietly, managing a tired smile.
"Are you okay?" Jon blurted out, then shook his head. "Sorry, sorry, stupid question, but you're not, like, injured, right?"
"No, I'm okay. Allison got shot--"
"Yeah, yeah, they told me. Is she--"
"She's okay! They said it's just a flesh wound. Uh, no Monty Python jokes, please."
"Not really the first thing that came to mind." Jon rested a hand on Stephen's shoulder, trying to be comforting. "I told Evie to meet us at the hospital."
"No, no, I'm fine. I don't need--"
"It's mandatory, for everyone who was at the show tonight. Cops say they don't want to take any risks with Mr. Chemical-Happy." Jon peered at Stephen's face. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Stephen shot him a look. "Hey, I'm not really going to look chipper right now."
"I know, but... well... Sorry."
Stephen shook his head. "I've... I've never seen anything like that in my life. He... his face..."
"Yeah..." Jon repressed a shudder. "I saw him. We all saw him."
"But you didn't see him in person!" Stephen said. "It's... you can't know. Honestly."
Jon didn't say anything about seeing Joker on the stretcher. He was sure it didn't compare. He laughed instead. "You only say that because he tried to blow your head off."
"Not funny," Stephen replied shortly.
"Sorry," Jon said quickly, looking away. "I'm just trying to... I just want you to be okay. I'm stupid. Sorry."
Stephen exhaled slowly and shook his head. "No, no, Jon, I should be thanking you. I mean, I am thanking you. You helped save my life."
"Christ." Jon wiped at long gone sweat on his forehead. "That puzzle... the one word, the raspberry sound, I wasn't even sure if I was spelling it how he wanted. I don't even know if there's a standard spelling."
"I've seen it spelled like that."
"... Please don't side with the lunatic."
Stephen couldn't even muster a dry laugh. "Jon... I... right now I feel like I'll never be okay again."
"Okay, even for this, that's going a little far." Jon put his hands on Stephen's shoulders. "You've just had a bad... okay, you've had the worst day a comedian has ever had. But things can only go up after this."
"I have a hard time believing that."
"Come on, always a silver lining, right?"
"And what's the silver lining to this?" Stephen challenged skeptically.
"I got to meet Batman."
Stephen stared for one, two, three seconds, and finally the corner of his mouth quirked up, though he was obviously trying to resist it.
Jon grinned broadly. "Eh? Eh?" he prodded.
"Fuck you!" Stephen said between chuckles, and gave Jon a shove.
Jon giggled. "Oh, come on, how is that not awesome, right?"
"You probably shit your pants."
"No, no, no," Jon said. "No, maybe I wet myself a little, but that's it."
"I didn't get to really talk to him," Stephen said, looking up at the rooftops. "Is he gone?"
"Not yet," said a different voice.
Stephen nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked his left and found the hero standing in the shadows beside the ambulance. "Fuck!!"
"Glad to see you made it out okay," Batman said.
"Me too," Stephen said, clutching his chest. "Uh, I mean, thanks. Yes. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He turned to Jon and said, "You worked well under pressure."
Jon prayed that, of all things, he wasn't blushing. "Oh, ah, uh, thanks. Well, you know..." He coughed. "When you can't fuck up, you can't fuck up, right?"
The corner of Batman's mouth quirked up. "Right."
"Uh, so you think Chuckles is really out for the count?" Jon asked.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him until he's back in Arkham."
"So you think he'll make it."
"He's survived worse."
"That sounds... frustrating."
"I hope you two don't mind," Stephen cut in, "but at the moment I'd prefer to forget he exists." He flashed Batman his best grin. "So. I don't suppose you do interviews?"
"Sorry," Batman replied. "I don't cross picket lines."
"You could swoop over them," Stephen said with a grin, illustrating with a wave of his hand.
"Maybe after the strike is settled?" Jon asked hopefully.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, DON'T YA?!"'
Jon cringed at Harley's piercing voice. He and the other two men turned to watch her finally be escorted into the back of a police van. She trained her livid gaze on Stephen. "YOU KNOW NOTHIN' ABOUT COMEDY, YOU HEAR ME?!" Even as the doors closed, her shouts managed to seep through.
Stephen tugged at his collar nervously. "Do me a favor and try to keep them in the loony bin this time, okay?" he said, turning back to Batman. Only an EMT now stood in his place.
"I just drive this thing, man," the EMT said, looking confused.
"Son of a bitch!" Jon said, looking this way and that, as if it wasn't too late to catch a glimpse of the hero's cape. "How did he do that?"
The EMT raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Um, you know, there are some very nice counselors you can talk to at the hospital." He gestured to the back of the ambulance. "Mr. Colbert, if you'll climb in?"
~ | ~
Donovan, like many people, wasn't overly fond of hospitals, but when he was told they would take him in for an overnight stay, he didn't argue. The last thing he wanted was to go home and try to sleep, alone, in the dark. He hoped some officers would be staying at the hospital as well.
He stared at the ambulance holding the Joker as it passed through the police barricade, passed the crowd of reporters and onlookers. This had been the absolute most horrific night of the writer's life. He had given it some thought when he started his book, that the subject might be... perturbed. But the Joker trying to kill him out of a sense of vanity had certainly never crossed his mind.
There was nothing to do about the book now; it was already out. But he had already struck out his editor's suggestion that he go on to do a series about the Gotham criminal elite. Maybe next he could write something less high-profile, like a cookbook. And he could go far, far, far overseas to do it.
A girl wandered by, talking on her cell phone. Her clothing caught his eye: American flag pants and a homemade shirt with Colbert's face on it. "I'm fine!" she was saying. "Really, Mom, you don't have to come up!"
Donovan gaped at her. Truth be told, he wouldn't at all mind seeing his mom right now.
"Seriously, Mom, you're overreacting." She looked up at the buildings, suddenly enrapt. Donovan followed her gaze and caught his breath when he saw the dark caped figure, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, following the Joker's ambulance. A stalwart guardian. "Really, in the end... Best. Show. Ever."
The Dark Knight? Is amazing. I am truly disappointed we'll never get to see Ledger reprise his role. But I definitely order encourage you to see it! I can't wait for midnight tomorrow to see it again.
Anywho, here's the end! (Almost thought I wouldn't get it done before the movie's official release!)
Title: Funny Business, Part 7 (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)
"NO!"
The voice was deep, angry, rumbling over the screaming crowd. The Joker let out a surprised cry just as arms wrapped around Stephen's waist and pulled. "I've got you!" Allison puffed as Stephen felt the force of gravity shift back into the building. He dug his fingers into Donovan's coat the best he could as they slowly slid over the window sill into the room. He managed one glance upwards and caught the black figure on the roof reaching over the edge to fight with Joker for the gun.
Then Stephen couldn't see them; he was back inside, and Donovan was squeezing through the window. When he was most of the way in, Stephen's arms gave out, and the author's own weight took him the rest of the way.
Stephen still heard shouting and scrambled back to the window on his knees, looking out and up in time to see the gun fly from Joker's grasp. Shots rang out, and it took a moment for Stephen to realize that the Joker's gun had not gone off, but someone else-- presumably the police-- had fired. The Joker's hand slipped from the roof, but Batman grabbed the collar of the clown's jacket just in time, and the criminal dangled.
"Guess they finally got a shot lined up," Allison grunted.
Stephen turned to nod, and finally noticed that Donovan still laid on the floor face first. Stephen ignored the ache in his arms and quickly sat him upright. He inspected the metal shard in Donovan's shoulder (now he realized it was sculpted, that it was Batman's) but knew better than to touch it. The cable wrapped tightly around his arms looked almost as painful, but Stephen doubted scissors would cut it. He looked over at Allison. Her sleeve was torn at the forearm, and it looked like she was bleeding badly. She tried to wrap what was left of her sleeve around the wound. "I'm okay," she panted. "It didn't go in."
He heard noises and shouts elsewhere in the building. The police were coming in. Stephen got up. "You both need a doctor. Come on." He helped Donovan to his feet. The writer didn't look up from the floor, as if he were reminding himself that it was there and he was no longer writhing above the ground like a worm on a hook.
"I don't suppose," Allison said, laughing weakly, "that you'd like to reschedule your interview?"
~ | ~
If the cops hadn't let Jon through, they would have regretted it, because he would've... would've... Okay, he wasn't sure what he would have done. Probably have a private meltdown without proof, right then, that Stephen was okay. But he was allowed past the police tape and directed towards Stephen with vague, hassled gestures.
Jon looked around, trying to see past the flashing lights and the bustle of officers, EMTs, and civilians. The noise level was high and disorienting, and he didn't pick out the low, constant giggling until someone bumped past him, causing him to turn and find himself facing the Joker.
The clown lay back on a stretcher, covered with a blanket up to his armpits, arms at his sides. For a moment Jon thought there were silver bangles around his wrists, but realized his hands were actually handcuffed to the stretcher. Thankfully, the clown's eyes were closed and he seemed to be unconscious. He giggled deliriously, as though he was having a wonderful dream. Jon nervously craned his neck, trying to figure out where beneath the blanket the Joker had been shot. He tried not to feel disappointed that the wounds weren't fatal.
Jon didn't realize the EMTs were there until they collapsed the stretcher to load it into a nearby ambulance. Several police officers were gathered beside it, and two argued. The lower-ranking man didn't want his men in such close proximity to a veritable psycho, demanding that a riot squad be brought in instead. But he lost, and four officers climbed into the back of the ambulance, much to the relief of the medical personnel. As the doors closed, Jon thought of every horror movie he'd ever seen and wished them the best.
"WAIT, WAIT!" a female voice shrieked, making him jump out of his skin. He whirled around. Harley Quinn, battered, her hands cuffed behind her back, was being restrained by three officers as she strained to get closer to the ambulance. "Let me go with him! Please!" For a moment, the distress on her face was pitiable, but the longer the cops held her back, the more absurdly comical her expression became. "He needs me! Who'll get his clothes laundered? What about his vitamins?! WHAT IF HE NEEDS HIS WHOOPIE CUSHION?"
Okay. That was enough for Jon, and he backed away, warily turning around. And then he spotted him. Stephen sat on the back bumper of an open ambulance, parked alongside the studio, and Jon nearly plowed over another EMT to get to him.
"Jesus, Stephen!" he shouted, throwing his arms around his friend. He suddenly felt so tired, as if the hours of worry had been the only thing holding him up.
"Hi," Stephen said quietly, managing a tired smile.
"Are you okay?" Jon blurted out, then shook his head. "Sorry, sorry, stupid question, but you're not, like, injured, right?"
"No, I'm okay. Allison got shot--"
"Yeah, yeah, they told me. Is she--"
"She's okay! They said it's just a flesh wound. Uh, no Monty Python jokes, please."
"Not really the first thing that came to mind." Jon rested a hand on Stephen's shoulder, trying to be comforting. "I told Evie to meet us at the hospital."
"No, no, I'm fine. I don't need--"
"It's mandatory, for everyone who was at the show tonight. Cops say they don't want to take any risks with Mr. Chemical-Happy." Jon peered at Stephen's face. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Stephen shot him a look. "Hey, I'm not really going to look chipper right now."
"I know, but... well... Sorry."
Stephen shook his head. "I've... I've never seen anything like that in my life. He... his face..."
"Yeah..." Jon repressed a shudder. "I saw him. We all saw him."
"But you didn't see him in person!" Stephen said. "It's... you can't know. Honestly."
Jon didn't say anything about seeing Joker on the stretcher. He was sure it didn't compare. He laughed instead. "You only say that because he tried to blow your head off."
"Not funny," Stephen replied shortly.
"Sorry," Jon said quickly, looking away. "I'm just trying to... I just want you to be okay. I'm stupid. Sorry."
Stephen exhaled slowly and shook his head. "No, no, Jon, I should be thanking you. I mean, I am thanking you. You helped save my life."
"Christ." Jon wiped at long gone sweat on his forehead. "That puzzle... the one word, the raspberry sound, I wasn't even sure if I was spelling it how he wanted. I don't even know if there's a standard spelling."
"I've seen it spelled like that."
"... Please don't side with the lunatic."
Stephen couldn't even muster a dry laugh. "Jon... I... right now I feel like I'll never be okay again."
"Okay, even for this, that's going a little far." Jon put his hands on Stephen's shoulders. "You've just had a bad... okay, you've had the worst day a comedian has ever had. But things can only go up after this."
"I have a hard time believing that."
"Come on, always a silver lining, right?"
"And what's the silver lining to this?" Stephen challenged skeptically.
"I got to meet Batman."
Stephen stared for one, two, three seconds, and finally the corner of his mouth quirked up, though he was obviously trying to resist it.
Jon grinned broadly. "Eh? Eh?" he prodded.
"Fuck you!" Stephen said between chuckles, and gave Jon a shove.
Jon giggled. "Oh, come on, how is that not awesome, right?"
"You probably shit your pants."
"No, no, no," Jon said. "No, maybe I wet myself a little, but that's it."
"I didn't get to really talk to him," Stephen said, looking up at the rooftops. "Is he gone?"
"Not yet," said a different voice.
Stephen nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked his left and found the hero standing in the shadows beside the ambulance. "Fuck!!"
"Glad to see you made it out okay," Batman said.
"Me too," Stephen said, clutching his chest. "Uh, I mean, thanks. Yes. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He turned to Jon and said, "You worked well under pressure."
Jon prayed that, of all things, he wasn't blushing. "Oh, ah, uh, thanks. Well, you know..." He coughed. "When you can't fuck up, you can't fuck up, right?"
The corner of Batman's mouth quirked up. "Right."
"Uh, so you think Chuckles is really out for the count?" Jon asked.
"I'll be keeping an eye on him until he's back in Arkham."
"So you think he'll make it."
"He's survived worse."
"That sounds... frustrating."
"I hope you two don't mind," Stephen cut in, "but at the moment I'd prefer to forget he exists." He flashed Batman his best grin. "So. I don't suppose you do interviews?"
"Sorry," Batman replied. "I don't cross picket lines."
"You could swoop over them," Stephen said with a grin, illustrating with a wave of his hand.
"Maybe after the strike is settled?" Jon asked hopefully.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, DON'T YA?!"'
Jon cringed at Harley's piercing voice. He and the other two men turned to watch her finally be escorted into the back of a police van. She trained her livid gaze on Stephen. "YOU KNOW NOTHIN' ABOUT COMEDY, YOU HEAR ME?!" Even as the doors closed, her shouts managed to seep through.
Stephen tugged at his collar nervously. "Do me a favor and try to keep them in the loony bin this time, okay?" he said, turning back to Batman. Only an EMT now stood in his place.
"I just drive this thing, man," the EMT said, looking confused.
"Son of a bitch!" Jon said, looking this way and that, as if it wasn't too late to catch a glimpse of the hero's cape. "How did he do that?"
The EMT raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Um, you know, there are some very nice counselors you can talk to at the hospital." He gestured to the back of the ambulance. "Mr. Colbert, if you'll climb in?"
~ | ~
Donovan, like many people, wasn't overly fond of hospitals, but when he was told they would take him in for an overnight stay, he didn't argue. The last thing he wanted was to go home and try to sleep, alone, in the dark. He hoped some officers would be staying at the hospital as well.
He stared at the ambulance holding the Joker as it passed through the police barricade, passed the crowd of reporters and onlookers. This had been the absolute most horrific night of the writer's life. He had given it some thought when he started his book, that the subject might be... perturbed. But the Joker trying to kill him out of a sense of vanity had certainly never crossed his mind.
There was nothing to do about the book now; it was already out. But he had already struck out his editor's suggestion that he go on to do a series about the Gotham criminal elite. Maybe next he could write something less high-profile, like a cookbook. And he could go far, far, far overseas to do it.
A girl wandered by, talking on her cell phone. Her clothing caught his eye: American flag pants and a homemade shirt with Colbert's face on it. "I'm fine!" she was saying. "Really, Mom, you don't have to come up!"
Donovan gaped at her. Truth be told, he wouldn't at all mind seeing his mom right now.
"Seriously, Mom, you're overreacting." She looked up at the buildings, suddenly enrapt. Donovan followed her gaze and caught his breath when he saw the dark caped figure, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, following the Joker's ambulance. A stalwart guardian. "Really, in the end... Best. Show. Ever."