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Dark Humor	By : xxnadsxx Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 2361 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
Dark Humor
Twelve

�� The impact sent a jolt through her body as
she was thrust against her seatbelt, her fingers digging into the wheel as the
entire car jerked and shuddered forward, her eyes squeezing shut for a fraction
of a second before she pounded her foot frantically against the gas. Rachel
could barely think, could barely breathe as the police siren wailed
throughout her ears, barely taking into account the destruction of the back of
her vehicle or the red lights before her as she sailed forward. The honking of
horns screamed through her body, flying shapes blurring before her as she flew
past, yet every inch further was an inch away from the car that was frantically
pursuing her. Adrenaline spiked her blood like liquor, impairing her judgment
as she swayed and swerved across the cars before her, the almost abstract
shapes crossing at the intersections going too slow, too slow, they�re going
to catch me, they�re going to lock me up like a criminal�
�� More sirens at her side; fast as lightning,
quicker even than the frantic, shallow breaths running through her body, than
the tears that coursed across her corpse-white cheeks. Where had they come
from? Was all of Gotham pursuing her now, as if she were some sort of �freak,
more menacing than the Joker himself? There were three cars, now; the car that
had rammed her, trailing behind at breakneck speed, dangerously close to
ramming into her bumper a second time�two at her side, their sirens screaming,
speed-mangled voices crying out from either vehicle. She didn�t care to
hear what they had to say; their accusations, their lies.
Her breath caught in her throat as
she focused through blurred vision towards the street before her. Somehow, she
had turned into a long stretch of alley, and she was going at least 80 miles
per hour towards nothing but a wall of dilapidated brick.
�� She was going to hit a dead end.
�� They were going to capture her.
�� The car behind her was gaining speed, enough
that the force of impact would ram straight through her already battered
vehicle.
�� Oh God, no. Oh God, no, please
don�t let it end like this.
�� If she kept going this fast, she
would ram right into the wall within milliseconds. What would happen then, if
her body smashed head-first into solid brick, mangled and battered beyond recognition?
Panic shot through her mind, froze her heart into blank hysteria. Feet acted of
their own accord as she slammed the breaks, the sirens closing in on her, the
trio of pursuing cars led by her attacker. Her mind was empty, teeth biting
through her lip to taste blood, eyes glazed forward as the car skidded,
sputtered, screamed, the very front ramming into the wall with a crunch.
The destruction would have been so close to encompassing her, as the entire
front of the car was swallowed up by the brick, devouring the metal up towards
the steering wheel as it flew from her hands with a jolt and she found herself
lying within the confines of her seatbelt, bulging metal sharp and glinting
against her body. Glass shattered and flew into closed eyes, cutting away at
bare skin and her unprotected face. Stray pieces of battered metal gashed her
leg, her still fingers, leaving raw, bloody prints on her skin; her head had
hit the seat with a forceful thud, and she could feel the egg-like bump bloom
against her scalp. Spots danced before her vision as she pulled her seatbelt
roughly aside, turning an aching neck to peer at the car that should
have slammed into her a fatal, final time.
�� The other two police cars had their doors
flung opened. The aggressive car that had been chasing her seemed damaged
beyond repair, its entire front battered with the strange sight of bullets that
had somehow been inflicted in the short amount of time from her impact from the
alley-to-wall. Smoke curled, gray and thick, from beneath the hood. Unknown
officers were pointing their guns at a man of their own profession; the driver who
had tried to kill her. He was doubled over, his face twisted with panic and a
mixture of hatred as she pulled her suddenly dizzy frame completely from the
wreckage, aware of the blood pooling from her split leg as the gash throbbed.
She was vaguely aware of the cracked web that was once the windshield of the man�s
car�and the huge, black body that kneeled against it, glaring at the fallen
officer with open hostility.
�� Batman.
�� It was only a matter of time before
he would see her. She was cornered, after all, and he would turn his attention
upon her as soon as he was finished with her attacker. Her lips pursed as she
saw the man�s face, recognized him from court cases�Rodriguez�no wonder
he had attacked her, with his mother in the hospital that would be destroyed tonight
if she lost track of the time.
�� The time.
�� Her life was being timed, and
she was standing here in a daze, with Bruce about to whisk her away with each
second�s hesitation. People would die because of her reluctance. Because of
Batman�s goddamned moral absolution. Her gorge rose as she willed her
shaken body forward. Heels ground against the asphalt, shaky legs working
slowly across the ground, and�predictably�an officer�s head rose from watching
Batman and his companion force the attacker into one of their police cars. His
eyes widened to saucers as he examined her bloodied frame, and his mouth hung
open to form words. It was then that Rachel thrust herself forward, as fast her
legs could carry her, willing all the strength possible into her left arm.
Before the officer could shout an exclamation, she had struck her fist roughly
against his jaw and kneed his groin, and he was on the ground, cursing and
grabbing hold of himself as she broke into a blind run towards the station.
Rachel barely had time to register the sound of a gun cocking, sight of the
remaining policeman turning his gun on Batman�s hulking shape. She heard the
cape flutter as she ducked into a series of alleys, running as fast as her
muscles willed, as fast as time could be merciful.
�� Apparently, mercy wasn�t on her side.
�� Already the gunshots from the alley had come
to a halt with a man�s scream, and the whispers of a cape were coming nearer,
closer. She had run blindly, already a good few blocks away, pushing past stray
faces and wandering couples, gasping for breath as raw pain shot through her
crippled, hobbling leg. She wasn�t getting far, yet it would only take a few
more minutes�fifteen, she just needed fifteen minutes, yet she knew he
would find her so much faster, would overpower her�
�� No, I can�t let that happen�I can�t let
him take me away! I can�t let those people die!
�� It was the fierce, nearly sadistic
determination that shot her through with renewed strength as she pumped the
adrenaline in her limbs and willed herself forward. Blood grew hot and sticky
against her wound, her nerves screaming with pain, gone mute by the frantic cries
in her mind to run, run faster, as fast as you can manage, until you implode
from the pain�
�� Rachel! RACHEL!�
�� No.
�� Teeth grit; she was throwing herself across
crosswalks without daring to glance over her shoulder, the blaring horns and
angry screams as cars skidded and shuddered mere centimeters from her flying
face, the wind whipping wildly in her hair, stinging her eyes with tears, her
heart sinking as awe-filled shouts lit the clusters of people behind her like
flames, coming nearer and nearer on a rampant, hungry trail. She turned into an
alley, limping with her left leg and running with her right, splashing
ankle-deep puddles and carelessly knocking over garbage cans, taking the
shortcut from Avenue X to Bay Street. Her limbs were aching, her heart and head
pounding, and she knew before she felt it that she was losing precious
energy, that she would collapse sooner than arrive at her destination, sooner
even than Batman would manage to find her.
�� But then, as she dug her nails into the brick
wall and turned the corner towards the next alley, she realized her assumptions
were dreadfully out of order.
�� Rachel, stop! Let me help you!�
�� No!�
�� The rasping voice bore down upon her
even as she continued to hobble and limp forward through the deserted alley,
panicked tears streaming down her face, sheer desperation edging her forward
and forward until her heart swelled in her breast and she fought back
breathless, sobbing coughs.
�� A flutter of a cape, and she was screaming
and protesting as rough arms gripped her shoulders, trying to smother her. A
hand clamped down upon her mouth and she was biting fingers, her teeth of no
use against the armored glove, and she wondered for a lunatic second just how
strong the teeth of rabid dogs were to penetrate the steel-like fabric, the
iron grip. He was hoisting her up but no she couldn�t let him, couldn�t
let him take her back, not when people were going to die so soon
because of her, and she was kicking and screaming and scratching and for
some miraculous instant her neatly manicured fingernails had caught into the
patch of bare skin, torn at chin and lips until they were wet with blood, and
he gave a strangled cry as another flying finger dug into an unprotected eye�
�� She was on the floor, writhing, pulling
herself to her feet, and she was running and wild-eyed again, so close to the
station now, only a good mile away. The gray building seemed so out of reach
with Batman behind her, sweat rolling down her neck and freezing in her
cold panic, and she only had a few seconds of running before he would be on top
of her again, pulling her away with force this time, possibly even going as far
as to knock her out.�
And so it was with desperation that
she continued to run, and when the police siren screamed across the corner her
heart sank and alighted fiercely at the same time�she recognized the hardened
face from before, from Harvey�s funeral, recognized the gleam within the
glazed eyes, and that was why she ran towards that car and why it stopped
obligingly before her and opened its passenger doors. And quickly, quickly,
without another word to him, she flung herself desperately into its confines,
and the officer floored it as the Batman recovered to all but fling himself
towards them; and yet they were now ten feet away at breakneck speed,
disappearing like a pinprick of light against the pitch-black horizon.
oOo
�Good choice.�
The only two words that came from
his mouth; monotonous, almost robotic. She wondered if they were all
like that, his men, hollow as vessels, defunct when off duty like discarded
hand-puppets. A part of her didn�t really want to know as they pulled into a
stop before the door of the news station, settling against endless other cars
with blaring sirens. At first she thought they would see her, be upon her
within seconds, pulling her away from this place, away from the
madman within�yet they were all like the man next to her, all of them
hollow-eyed, masquerading beneath police hats and uniforms. Something within
her clenched tightly as the locks clicked, the door opened against her hard
fist, and she was out in the suddenly stale, dead air. No one could save her
now, everyone so far out of reach�and here she was, in the very lair of the
beast, waiting to be devoured whole.
For an instant, she envisioned
herself turning on her heel and running in the opposite direction, panicked and
sobbing and screaming for help until she was thrown into strong arms, frisked
back away into Wayne Manor.
Then her mind snapped back into
reality, and she began to ascend the station�s steps.
�Rachel wished she had remembered a
prayer from her childhood, anything to whisper beneath her breath, anything
to calm her frayed nerves as wobbling knees dug into step after step, as her
fingers pressed against deathly cold glass and chills spread along her spine.
The best she could do was retreat into the gaping emptiness inside of her for
what she knew would only be inevitable�lying on a slab like a dead animal,
mutilated beyond recognition. Maybe that would be the most peaceful way
to go, how she envisioned it. Or maybe she wasn�t going to go at all.
Maybe he just wanted to talk
to her.
A burst of hysteria shot through
her mind and threatened to erupt from her mouth; whether a laugh or a scream,
she didn�t know. Lips pursed as the door opened beneath her numbed fingers, and
when she pulled herself through the threshold, her heart began to die into
numbness. It would all end, soon. Soon she could finally rest; soon the
bastard�s games would be over, and she would be done with her role in his
scheming.
And Harvey�s death would have
been for nothing�you would have never truly avenged him.
The voice within her mind was rabid
and biting as she walked forward across the quiet ground, her heels making too
much noise, alerting anything nearby of her presence.
But why make a quiet entrance
when this entrance will most likely be your last? Why not be theatric, let the
world know you before you cease to exist?
She would have sobbed at the
thought if there were any tears remaining inside of her, if there was anything
now but the sudden numbness that had possessed her and made everything within
her a blank, empty slate. Rachel wasn�t quite sure where to go, though she knew
going anywhere within this building would be pointless. He would find her with
ease, and he would do what he wished with her, as long as the innocents in the
hospital were safe. Irony bubbled at the back of her throat at her
predicament, bordering bleak amusement.
Once again I�m the martyr, the
bait, the contender in the game�
She didn�t see the pool of blood
beneath her heel until she nearly slipped in it.
Regaining her balance with a cry,
she covered her mouth with her hands and stared down at the former employees of
the news station, greeting her with smiles. Once animated faces on her
television set, in better, saner days, were grinning blankly up at her,
their faces and throats slashed open into identical, leering grins, their eyes
wide and staring like reddened dolls, chalk-white skin drowning in the blood
which framed their almost meticulously laid-out bodies. They were stacked in a
neat little row like dominoes, like artwork, the sickening stench of
death and decay nearly making her retch. It was then that she saw the smeared
blood, lining their torsos in an identical streak�it formed a line, an arrow
made of blood drawn crudely upon their bodies, pointing westward against the
carnage. Leading her towards the source of the massacre.
And these bodies were here all
because of her. Just to make her a sign.
These people were dead because
of her.
Just like Harvey.
The cry came from nowhere, bursting
from her lips in a grating, desperate sob. White heels were stained red as she
slid backward against the wall, biting back a long, piercing wail. She was
being weighed down, her body pooling against the floor, knees soaking blood,
face cradled in shaking hands, eyes staring listlessly through cracked fingers
at the endless pool of red that smiled, sneered, leered up at her in
cruel mockery.
�� Ten little corpses, lined up in a queue,
rotting, rotting, all because of you.
�� In her mind, she could hear them
laughing, each torn throat emitting a high-pitched, screaming cackle. Each one
mocking, each one taunting. Beckoning. You�ll be one of us soon. You�ll be
lying on the ground, smiling, all your pain taken away, and it�s all your fault
we�re like this, it�s all your fault�
�� As she gazed out at the display of corpses,
pure terror and weakness overpowered her for the first time that night.
And for the first time in her life, she was completely alone.
�Rachel�s head shook in her hands as
she burst into panicked laughter.
- 11
- 12
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