Slipping Into Entropy - Part 23
Bruce couldn't decide if the Joker was acting like a ten year old, or if that was simply part of his normal personality. He followed, feeling no less frustrated that the other man was behaving. The sun was setting and the sky was already darkening. He felt glad for that extra tiny bit of cover. When the reached the helicopter, he pulled on his mask once more, making sure the Joker entered on the other side, and started the roaring blades.
Joker fumed on the entire ride back to Batman's lair, grinding his teeth so hard it would probably have been audible had the engine not drowned out all sound. Eying the controls and buttons that he'd observed on the trip out there, he wondered if the copter would crash should he push and mess with enough of them.
It was something Bruce was wary of for the better part of the journey. He never was able to find out whether the Joker would take the chance though. Halfway back, over the waters of Gotham River, the helicopter picked up the GPD's radio signals. Being Bruce's personal ride, he'd rigged it with many of the system's that were reserved solely for Batman's use, which he rarely shut down. There was a well coordinated and heavily armed heist currently being executed at Gotham National Bank. Had he and the Joker paid enough attention to the news, or even Gordon and the rest of the department's activity, he would have realized that with Batman's newfound absence, coupled with the Joker's escape along with a dozen other inmates, crime in the inner city had risen astronomically.
The lunatic couldn't even bring himself to be mildly amused. As much as he would have normally exalted in how his actions had spread tendrils of chaos even deeper into the twisted roots of the city, it still did nothing to accomplish his goal of the moment. His green eyes shifting sideways, Joker gave Batman a bitter look, a glint of violence lurking just beneath the surface. "...how soon the wolves come out to play when they hear the shepherd is away."
Bruce shot daggers at him in return. There was no avoiding it, he turned the helicopter sharply for downtown, and he was going to have to take the Joker with him. They flew high as possible for as long as they could, knowing the police would be covering most of the airspace, until he saw two of their helicopters hovering outside of the bank's tower. He brought the craft down upon the roof of a building a few blocks away, hoping to be mistaken for a news station should they have been spotted. Once down he killed the engine and, passing the handcuffs, pulled the Joker's hands together, tying them to the frame of the helicopter with metal cable ties. He could only hope they held better than handcuffs. "Don't. Move," he warned before dashing out of the cockpit.
Joker only snarled in response, watching the Bat dash off to play Hero To The Rescue. Pulling at the cable, his lip curled in distaste; no matter what it was made of, it still only worked for restraining if you couldn't make your hands form something smaller than the loop. Deftly popping his thumbs out of their sockets, he slipped out of the cords without a problem, popping his digits back into place as soon as he was free. That accomplished, he began digging through the copter, wondering if Bruce had other things stored in there that might be of use.
Batman was in the air and away before he could have seen the Joker's movements below. Police had the building surrounded, their air team circling the structure and spotlights had gone up all over the place. From what he could tell they were at a standoff with the squad on the outside and the crooks on the inside. Batman had to maneuver between the lights to enter the building unseen. He did so from the upper floors and it was a long way down.
It was as he suspected; Batsy had put a whole slew of equipment and toys into some of the various compartments in the cockpit. Rooting through what was available, Joker began picking out choice pieces, stuffing them into his pockets or clipping them onto beltloops. He didn't have his knives, but he'd found a few of those batarangs that would suffice, sharpened things that were probably meant for punching through metal instead of flesh.
Sliding out of the machine, Joker walked to the edge of the rooftop, examining the toy in his hand that had always intrigued him. Raising the device and aiming carefully towards structures on the next rooftop over, he shot the auto-retracting grappling hook, pulled off his feet and out into thin air. It was time for the chaser to be chased.
Meanwhile, Batman was about to give whatever group that had sprung up on the heels of his absence a very warm welcome. Perhaps some of the Joker's humor was indeed rubbing off on him because he decided instead of sneaking down flights of stairs, he would simply take the elevator directly into their midst.
Landing roughly on the empty rooftop, Joker dashed across the flat surface until he reached the other side, readying the grappler for another shot. Like hell I'm letting Bat have all the fun. Crossing between the few empty buildings between him and the building where all the action was going down, Joker didn't pay the slightest bit of attention to the fact he was using a strange piece of equipment he'd never used before to move through thin air without any backups should he fall. The police in a patrolling helicopter did a double-take as a familiar figure swung down on a cable in front of them, scrambling up the glassy sides of the building and onto the rooftop.
"All squads, come in. Backup needed, I repeat, BACKUP NEEDED. We have a confimed sighting of Joker at the heist, I repeat..."
The elevator dinged open just as the radio signal in Batman's ears picked up the message loud and clear. Dammit! It was also at that moment that half a dozen hooded men with guns turned from their positions at the lobby door to stare at him incredulously. He leapt on their moment of hesitation, moving out of the lift and tossing two metal disks at lightening speed to stab at the hands holding weapons. The men who had been packing their bags and one who had been conversing by radio to the police dropped their tasks immediately to dive for the guns.
Dashing like mad through the rooftop door and down the stairwell, Joker ran like hellhounds were nipping at his heels, jumping down flights of stairs rather than spend time tripped up on the way to each flat. It took only a minute to reach the right floor. Putting the grappler into his coat pocket, Joker dug out the sharpened batarangs, switching his hold on them until he had a pair of curved, impromptu daggers. Bursting through the door to see a room full of thugs turning guns at what was his, he snarled and dove into the pack of them head on, carving a path of bloody rage.
What the hell-? Batman couldn't believe his eyes when the Joker sprang in, out of nowhere, to help him. He only realized he'd stopped when one of the men turned from the battle with the Joker and ran headlong into him. He snapped out of it quickly, knocking him to the floor and tying his hands, moving on to the next.
When he got close enough he could see clearly that the Joker was using his own weapons like knives, slashing and stabbing with little care to the damage. "Don't kill them!" Batman tried to shout over the commotion.
Joker didn't pay the slightest attention, ripping through the criminals intent on delivering terror and bodily harm to the group that had targeted the Bat. No one was allowed to play with Bat but him, and his anger was still burning from whatever had happened those last few minutes in the mansion.
Darting and weaving in the fatal dance, he never paused once to consider that he might be killed, never flinched back from the weapons turned in his direction. The clown just dove in, slashing until the threatening limbs were bloody and useless, the robbers collapsed and neutralized on the floor.
The Joker had fought like a fiend. In the end Batman had to restrain him from going after the fallen men. It was easy to see that he was furious, but once again, this was the very last thing in all the world that he would have expected of the Joker. He'd had the perfect opportunity to escape. Even if he'd wanted in on the action, Batman thought he would revel in the chance to attack his captor, especially with the help of a group. He had done so before. He still had a scar in his gut where the Joker kicked him while his goons held him down. Never did he imagine the clown would fight on his side.
Breathing hard, pulling the Joker away from the other crooks, his gut turned at the realization. Part of him felt sick, part of him didn't understand it, didn't want to maybe, and a part of him was thrilled. If the Joker could fight for him......would this man fight for him? Would this man stop fighting for him, stop his violence, at least stop the road he'd been on..... Bruce cringed and mentally slapped himself. No. He had to focus on the here and now. Not....naive wishes.
Joker struggled, snapping his teeth in frustration and howling in rage at what was left of the small band of would-be thieves. He still had that tense, coiled feeling inside that just screamed for release, the bitter frustration of all the recent days past. It didn't even matter that he had, in essence, already ripped them apart; they didn't need to be an active threat. He felt wrathful, and he always did whatever impulse took him, without question.
Batman finally let the Joker have it. He threw the man down on the marble floor in one great arching swing and held him there.
"Enough," he growled. "You've done enough." He had to let the Joker go in order to tie the men they'd disabled; he had to make sure none of them were dead. He looked into the Joker's eyes as though daring him to move.
Joker just stared up at him, swirling insanity and the fires of violence still filling his eyes. Breathing heavily from the exertion, his jaw set in a stubborn line, looking like he was going to contest that statement.
Then, miraculously, his frame relaxed ever so slightly. Rising to his feet, he made no movement to get closer to the perpetrators who had almost become victims, simply clenching his hands around the batarangs until his knuckles went white.
Taking this as an agreement, Batman turned to find most of the men holding themselves together in a clump watching the two legends of Gotham intently. Some of them were hurt badly. One of them was crawling for the door; he was pulled back and cuffed with the rest. During this time Batman's ears were alive with Gotham PD's frequencies. They'd spotted the Joker enter the building, they hadn't spotted Batman. More enforcements were on the way en masse and they were going to have to get out soon or they may never. "Next time, you might not be so lucky," he said to the men, making sure they would both live and be unable to move very far. When it was done, he tossed their weapons quickly and took the Joker's arm once again, pulling him away from the scene.
Baring his teeth in a vicious grin at the rabble, the lunatic let himself be pulled away... this time. Stepping quickly to keep up with Batman's longer strides, he still kept the batarang-cum-knives ready, itching to take his emotions out on something - or someone - else.
"What the hell are you doing? How did you get in here?" Batman couldn't restrain himself from asking any longer. They reached a service elevator, though he had to break the lock off it's outer door meant for the general public as the cops advanced cautiously on the building. They'd be coming down from the roof as well. He and his new "accomplice" had to get high enough to reach the roof of the tower they'd left the helicopter on, but it would be impossible to fly with the added weight.
Digging the grappler out of his coat pocket, he waved it under the Bat's nose, his displeasure still writ across his face. "I'm not your pet, Batsy. You don't get to chain me in one place whenever it makes things convenient for you. I won't stay put," he hissed, shooting the taller man a defiant look that would have been more at home on the face of a teenaged boy than a full grown man.
Batman gave him a withering look and snatched the hook as they reached the approximate floor. He could hear the blades of helicopters on the roof through amplified sensors. They would be breaking into the stairwell by now. "Cops are in the building." He wasn't exactly sure why he was telling the Joker this. "We're going to have to do this in one go." Opening a large window and shooting the grappling gun to the wall of the building adjacent to them was simple. It holding their combined weight might be tricky and awkward, but they had little choice. The Joker hadn't run yet. He'd agreed not to, but....Batman.....didn't like the thought of setting him free on the night with the police at their heels and Wayne appliances in his hands.
"No. Really? I had no idea..." he shot back, leaping on the opportunity to get back at his lover, even through something as petty as mocking. Guessing what Batman was thinking, Joker stepped closer, his eyes flickering from the hero to where the grapple's hooks had latched onto the stonework.
It was confounding how Batman now bristled at the thought of being anywhere near the Joker when not two hours ago..... "Move." Deliberately, he shoved the Joker halfway out the window before taking hold of him as securely as he could manage and swinging the both of them out into the night and the wandering searchlights.
Not in the least bit concerned, Joker dug his fingers into the other man's armor and clung tightly as they arched out into the open air. He'd have time to further his argument later, when there wouldn't be any annoying interruptions from the police.
The move wasn't as difficult as Batman had anticipated. He'd done it a thousand times, and the Joker moved with him and rested securely when he needed to. Bruce was strong enough and his suit was flexible enough to maneuver the Joker's weight with his own. They landed and climbed, then took off again as the beams of light passed closer. Two more shots like that and they would be back to the helicopter.
As much as his anger had been boiling at the surface, the close contact and lack of further aggravation seemed to cool things; he would have had to have been truly mad to have tried anything while they hung from a wire hundreds of feet above the ground, but he found his resolve to pick a fight as soon as they had steady footing... gradually fading.
Physical fight or not, Bat was going to get an earful, that was for certain. Next time, he can stay cuffed and I'll run around in a cape and pointy ears...
Reaching the helicopter, they took off and flew low, as low as possible for several blocks, then shot up into the sky. Batman intercepted a signal from one of the police copters about their sudden presence, issuing a prerecorded answer back as though they were one of Gotham Cable Network's news trackers. It would be some time before either station realized this was not so; time enough for them to reach the warehouse hideout.
Rocking back and forth in his seat, Joker kept glancing sharply over at Bruce, obviously mulling over something and wanting to speak, yet remaining silent for the moment as they concentrated on hightailing it out of the line of fire. His mind was racing with a million thoughts a minute; how to put the other man in his place, how best to take out his rage, what to do should the Bat go back on his word...
On the way back, Batman had quite a few things to mull over as well. The men they'd captured would be sure to inform the police of what they'd seen: the Joker and the Batman working together. At least, that was sure to be the conclusion they would come to. It made him uneasy. Batman had always portrayed an image that deviated over the line that normal public figures did not cross. It had been suspected from his first appearance in Gotham, and after he met the Joker, it had been confirmed with the deaths charged in his name, even if falsely. Still, the Batman had been a symbol for the city. The one who would do anything to take men like the Joker down. Not someone....who would ever work with the Joker.
Growing ever more tense as they neared the Batcave, Joker became more and more certain that Bat would try some sort of treachery; he'd conveniently "forget" what he'd agreed to, drug or knock him unconscious, lock him away in an unbreakable cell as before until he went madder than a march hare.
They flew down between two large warehouses, and Bruce carefully maneuvered them inside the larger. As soon as they were on the ground, it gave out from underneath, sinking down into the floor and replacing itself with a concrete roof over their heads.
Batman exited quickly, killing the engine and pulling the hood from his head, tossing it on a nearby table. He then spun around to face the Joker, something urgent and angry on the tip of his tongue before the intercom in his earpiece went off. It echoed in a tiny but distinct voice from the hood lying haphazardly on a toolbox. It was Alfred. "Bruce, I've seen the news."
Bunching in on himself, readying for a fight as Bruce turned towards him, Joker watched in confusion as the man froze, then tensed in response to the tinny voice of the intercom. Cautiously crawling out of the car, wanting somewhere to escape to should the taller man go berzerk, he licked his lips and waited to see what was going to happen.
Whatever Bruce had been going to say to the Joker, he disregarded it. He picked up the intercom and spoke clearly into it. "Not now, Alfred." He put the hood on, and from the Joker's perspective it would surely look like he was having a conversation with himself. Alfred clearly noticed his former charge had returned to the lair. Bruce didn't wonder whether he knew where he'd taken the Joker or not. He also didn't have to wonder what was now on the news. Real reporters had been on the scene when they'd left the bank tower; if GCN's report on Wayne Enterprises hadn't made the night, the attempted robbery would assuredly.
"Everything is not now with you," he snarled, circling away from Bruce as he reset the hood in place. He was getting to know the man, and the news would probably only make his blood hotter, make betrayal that much more likely in the heat of the moment.
Batman glanced up at the Joker. "You don't appreciate the attention?" he retorted. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He tossed the hood away once more, obviously not caring what Alfred had to say any longer. He turned from the Joker and rested his hands on the tool table, taking in its contents as though looking for something specific rather than looking anywhere but at the other man.
"Not exactly," he hissed back, ignoring his wariness and slinking closer, that inner frustration boiling to the surface again. "It wasn't fun. It accomplished something, apparently, but not enough." Not what I want. His jaw tightening as Bruce remained obstinate, his eyes firmly down on the table, he picked up the corners and slammed the table legs back into the ground, sending tools and pieces flying. "Look at me!" he snapped, wanting an answer. Any answer.
"Then what do you want?" Bruce practically yelled as he spun on the Joker, this time holding his rage in check just barely. He stared the Joker up and down hard. "We have an understanding, and that is it."
"No, we don't. You don't seem to realize what you've agreed to, and I'm going to make sure you do," he growled back, unflinching, just as much rage filling his own eyes. "That, or make you ever so sorry for your lying tongue."
Eyes narrowed, Bruce pressed forward, inclining his head toward the Joker. "I will not go back on my word. But you think things will change? You think if you had killed those men tonight, I would have done nothing? You're very wrong." Their agreement, tentative yet absolute as it was, would not prevent Batman from doing his job. If it did, this whole thing may as well be another of the Joker's elaborate ploys to take Batman out of action.
"Thing will not only change, they already have. You cannot hold yourself to your permanent blindness forever, nor ignore what you really promised..." He stepped forward again, looking up to match Bruce's furious gaze; the tilt of his head caused the lights in the cave to accentuate the purple stripes that were deepening under his skin. "If you think I will let this be, then you will be very wrong, Bat."
"You have me," Bruce forced his strained voice to be civil. "Any time you want. But that will never, ever mean that I will stop doing what I can for this city. You should know damn well better than that." He didn't back down from the Joker's gaze even though he could see the blood boiling under the other man's skin.
"That isn't what I mean, and you should know that by now, if you'd even been half paying attention. That's only one piece of the whole. You promised more than simply that. You promised everything, and I accepted that tie, as well. Do not think I'll let you manipulate me for my half of that tie without being able to claim yours."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bruce was growing more and more frustrated the further Joker led him into this circle. He had been there, their agreement had been fair, and he would be damned to let the Joker twist his words into something greater, something that would involve endangering Batman's function.
"I won't let you twist me with the bond, so I'll be damned if I twist you. No, that I won't do. You can ride out into the night as much as you will. I won't be trapped, and neither will you. But I won't let you cheat me," he growled lowly, stepping forward again until they touched, staring defiantly up. "I will not be shut out and ignored anymore, and you will see... and you will only hurt me in the ways I wish, when I wish it." A muscle ticcing in his jaw as that last slipped out, Joker's fists clenched at his sides. He wouldn't retreat. He refused to.
"That's fair...." Bruce said, eying him warily in return. He was very uncertain about how he had cheated the Joker, and what exactly he meant by being shut out. What this man expect? It was simply not possible for them to be friends, not as they were. In an odd way, this sobered Bruce. His anger turned into something more somber. "But you know who I am; at least you claim to. If you do, you'd know why I can't trust you," he finished, regaining the hard edge to his voice.
"You don't have that choice anymore," Joker shot back, his body still tense and defensive, shoulders rolled forward. He looked like he was going to say something else, but a movement in the shadows caught his eye, his green gaze following as Alfred stepped out of the passageway leading to the elevator.
Following his gaze after the sudden change of composure, Bruce caught sight of the Joker's distraction. He had no idea how long the butler had been listening to their conversation. The look on his face told Bruce nothing; it wasn't happy, but Alfred was never happy to see the Wayne heir with anything even related to the Joker lately.
Stepping around Bruce to get a better look at Alfred, he shook his head, still one bundle of energy and emotion he didn't quite know how to release. "Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners, Jeeves? Listening in on others isn't very polite. You've got no business down here."
Alfred paused, hands locked firmly behind his back, and Bruce whirled on the Joker in fury. "We are NOT finished," he shouted.
In return, Alfred ignored Bruce almost completely, taking in the Joker instead. "I have more right to be down here than you will ever gain," he said simply, expression stiff and unreadable. To Bruce's horror, he pulled a handgun and fired point blank at the Joker.
Taken completely by surprised by the old man, the green-haired criminal was thrown to the floor by the backlash, landing hard. A pool of dark red liquid quickly began coalescing beneath him. Touching two fingers to the hole in his torso, coming back with sticky red ichor, Joker giggled hysterically to himself. ...the butler did it! Damn. I thought it was always Mustard in the Study with the Wrench...
"ALFRED!" Bruce roared, lunging at the old man without pause. Just before he knocked the gun from his hands with a lightning quick strike, a look came over the butler's face that Bruce would remember for a very long time. It was the first time Alfred had been afraid of him. He was on his knees on the floor, sticky with blood, a moment later. The Joker was alive. Bruce found the entry point. The madman didn't look very good. He covered the would with both his hands, trying to stop the flow. His stomach was sinking and twisting.
The whole thing was surreal to the madman, as it would have been to anyone else observing from the outside; the world had, indeed, gone mad, for the murderer to become a bloody martyr with his own personal dark, weeping mourner, done in by an ancient manservant. The bullet must have hit something important, because the pain was excruciating. Joker laughed again, only to feel something wet slide up his throat to leak out of the corner of his mouth, adding to the blood spattering the floor.
Bruce had become frantic. He kept shouting at Alfred. "What did you do!? What did you do!?" The bullet had gone into the Joker's chest, and from the blood coming up through his mouth, Bruce knew it had hit a lung. He could not, however, tell how long the madman had to live. He kept turning to the butler, screaming that mantra as though if Alfred simply answered, it would undo the damage.
For his part, Alfred regained his composure, no longer frightened of Bruce and stood his ground firmly. "I did what you refused to do, Bruce. It had to be done." He spoke loudly, he was furious as well, but it was nowhere near to Bruce's hysteria.
His gaze still unfocused from the numbness of overloaded nerves, Joker turned towards the sound of Bruce's shouting, watching him calmly throughout. He regretted not being able to open the stubborn man's eyes like he had so many others, not having more time to do all the things he wished to do... but things happened, as they always did. It was pointless to resist the flow. Reaching up with one bloody hand, awkwardly trying to judge the distance with his vision wavering, he eventually got lucky and touched the man's cheek, leaving little red prints.
"Bruce," Alfred said, barely above a whisper, trying to turn his attention from the bleeding man. He was desperate. Bruce needed to get out of this man's thrall. This was the only way he could help his charge, who was bound so thoroughly by his belief, his obsession, and his pain.
The look on the Joker's face, his hand reaching out......Bruce didn't know what to do. The action made him even more shaky, more frantic. It just, it was....too much. He took the man's falling hand and placed it over his own wound, pressing down. "Hold this, hard." He was on his feet in a flash, brushing past Alfred who tried to catch him and failed. He grabbed the first rag he saw and replaced it with the Joker's hands. He made up his mind then, there was only one thing he could do. Holding tightly, the Joker's hand over the cloth, one of his hands keeping pressure on both, he used the other to lift the man from the ground.
The clown's vision swam as he was picked up, pain jolting through him and filling his eyes with darkness for a few moments. A strangled sound echoed through the caves, followed by coughing; his ears heard the sound, but he didn't realize that he was the source, himself. Whenever a coherent thought bubbled up through the pain, it was to remark on how very bizarre it felt to be carried like a small child again.
Bruce took took his mask, barely remembering it sitting on the tool table and rushed the Joker into the Tumbler. Alfred was now shouting at his back. "You need to let this end, Bruce. You know it!" He was heard, loud and clear, but ignored. If Bruce had stopped to think, simply taken the time, he might have agreed. But he pressed on, only one goal in his mind, so focused that little could sway him. He propped the Joker inside the hulking black tank, telling him once more to hold the rag against his chest when his fingers faltered. He fired the engine and they shot out of the cave as fast as the vehicle would take them.