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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.

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Dark
Humor
Two
The former assistant District
Attorney was tense and poised as she readied herself for what lay within the
interrogation room. Sweat creased her palms, lined her forehead with the
telltale signs of human nerves�yet she couldn�t afford to give into that now. It
was too late to go back, propelled by the violent emotions in her body,
by her desire to exact whatever she could upon the mad man before he would
undoubtedly overpower her, or at least to try and bring some justice to
Harvey�s death.
You�re an idiot, Rachel. You�re a
damned idiot.
But she knew that. If she hadn�t
been an idiot, she would have never befriended the Batman or nearly married the
District Attorney of Gotham City in the first place. Without another beat, as
the hideous chuckling continued, the screams she had just heard reduced to a
loud, disjointed gurgling, Rachel dove through the door, her gun in hand,
praying her was at least alone�
Rachel didn�t expect to see the
crumpled body of Lau in the hands of the smirking clown as she entered, cradling
him as tenderly as if he were a child. Her body froze in terror at the sight;
thin dribbles of blood ran down Lau�s slender throat, the only true indication
of any assault, yet his slanted eyes were wide and rolled upwards in cold,
cruel death. His skin was already pale and ashen beneath the sharp, fluorescent
lights, and for a sickening moment Rachel could imagine Lau�s body beneath the
ground, already crawling with maggots, already destroyed in its fleeting
mortality�
She almost forgot about the piercing
gaze of the man cradling the dead body against him. It was only when he uttered
a low, almost guttural purr of greeting from the depths of his throat,
discarding Lau�s body between them as he pulled himself to his feet that she
truly realized who stood before her. It was Harvey�s murderer she was
facing�and, in a way, her own.
The bottomless eyes watched her with
pure pleasure as she mirrored his gaze, echoed by the suddenly shrill,
high-pitched laughter from his heavily scarred, cracked orifice. It wasn�t even
a mouth, couldn�t even merit to be compared to one in its gashed, inhuman leer,
the stitching constantly crackling as if it would give way and gush a downpour of blood without any warning.
"Why helloooooooo, beautiful! Or should I call you Mrs. Dent? It seems you�re a
little late for our date, and I�ve been expecting you."
Rachel gasped at the man's
shameless, crooning mockery, her fingers clutching the pistol tight and
pointing the weapon straight at him,
"Shut up!"
The Joker's eyes widened for a
fraction of a second at the weapon that seemingly came from thin air, before
scarred lips pulled back from yellow teeth in another shrill, high-pitched
cackle of amusement. As he laughed, he kicked the dead body at his feet
carelessly to the side like a heap of unwanted garbage, before beginning to
walk coolly forward towards her, as if she were not harboring a weapon and
pointing it menacingly towards him.
"Stand back," She cried,
her eyes narrowing towards the Joker in dark revulsion. The clown seemed to
make a show of contemplating her words, placing his hand beneath his chin and
raising his brows, yet then he shook his green mane wildly and grinned,
"No, no, no, no, no�that
wouldn't be the right way to entertain my pretty little guest! Besides, are you
really sure you know how to point that thing?"
His voice became lower then, almost
a conspiratorial whisper, as he crossed his arms, the grin never fading from
his smug, scarred lips,
"Because I think you're very
off...shooting me wouldn't kill those responsible, you know."
As he spoke, he began to form a slow
circle around the large interrogation room; Rachel moved as well, pulling
herself away from him with each step, not wanting to make him think he could
get any closer to her.
He's lying, Her mind frantically hissed amidst the sudden confusion, don't
believe him for a second, why should you?
"You're a liar," Rachel
replied with a shaking voice, cocking the weapon in her hands and watching as
Joker actually jumped up slightly at the sound,
"Oh,
no, me?! I'm anything but that! You
see, dear Rachel, I'm the most honest guy in Gotham at this very moment, what
with...our little white Knight put out of commission."
She was quiet; her body seethed with
the rage she had felt before, though diluted by a trembling in her breast;
something akin to fear, yet not quite. She had never actually shot at someone
before, especially not in such a tense situation, and she didn't know if she
would be able to aim properly at one of the Joker's vital areas while he was
prancing around her in a circle, taunting her with his lies.
But, her mind then contradicted itself darkly, What if he
isn't lying? What if...
As if able to read her thoughts, he
nodded quickly, holding his hands out as if he were an innocent child and hadn't
just killed the man lying inert between them. His knife glinted against the
fluorescent light, still red and caked with blood, toted as if it were a
harmless instrument by the madman,
"You see, Rachel--can I call
you Rachel, since Mrs. Dent doesn't really work anymore?�"
She flinched, a cry of mottled rage
twisting in her throat, and Joker nodded again, holding his hands out before
himself defensively,
"Rachel. While you and
your, uh...squeeze were out in that life or death situation, I was right here,
in my little jail cell, wasting away! I didn't kidnap you or Harvey, how
could I when I was right here?"
He gestured towards the wide expanse
of the room they were in, still nodding in silent encouragement, as if to
reinforce his words that seemed to drip with venom in Rachel's eyes, "How
could I have possibly been the one to do any sort of harm to you and Harvey,
when I don't even have plans?"
"It doesn't matter!"
She retaliated, her voice an angry cry, yet shakier than she had wanted it to
be, "Harvey's dead, and they were your men, don't try to play your
games with me!"
"Oh, but I'm not playing any
games, I promise you," He replied smoothly, a giggle at the edge of his
words, his face cocked to the side as if he were an innocent boy, "If I
were here, I couldn�t have given any orders out to anyone. Gordon and his...ah,
men," He gestured outside, towards what Rachel had seen to be the
rows of mangled bodies, "Made sure of that. Morrone's
men were the ones to go after your Harvey, and they were the ones to wire him
to the explosives, while you two exchanged vows of love and comfort before your
final moments toge�"
"Shut up!" Her
voice was so loud her own ears rang with the ferocity of it; the Joker jumped
backwards in mock surprise, before chuckling again, grabbing at his sides,
"You always were feisty, beautiful, and that's what I've liked
about you. You see, I'm not surprised you were the one to pull through
this and come after me with a gun, when I could easily take your cute little
pistol out of your hands and carve you up like a pumpkin within seconds if I
wanted to,"
His mouth curled into a sinister
leer, then, and the savage amusement in Joker's eyes at his words chilled
Rachel's spine,
"But I like you. I've
been watching you, trying to...figure out exactly what it is that attracts the
two most powerful men in Gotham to you, and I found the
predicament...irresistible, myself. You�re not nearly as strong as you pretend
to be, and that strikes me as incredibly funny! Why a girl like you, a
beautiful girl, Harvey's squeeze, Batman's little object of desire�would still
take on a job as ugly as D.A. assistant, and risk her life enforcing stupid
little morals and high values and 'putting the bad guys away'�well, it doesn't
make any sense! It's crazy business, the way you people work, thinking
you can lock away every corrupted person in Gotham when we're all corrupted,
even the people you trust the most, when even your little Batman turns his tail
on you after finally seeing you as what you are, and that's bait�"
Rachel's fingers trembled on the
trigger, her eyes sharp with tears of anger. What she would give to lunge at
this man right now, to tear at him with nail and limb and every part of her
body, to shoot him full of bullet holes and never look back. What she would
give to wipe off that damned smirk on his face, to make sense of his little
attempt at psychiatrist analysis in the face of potential death.
But vengeance doesn�t equal
justice�what do I want from this? From hurting him?
Think, get a hold of yourself, get a hold of your logic!
"Batman's a better man than you
or Morrone," She interjected, her voice
trembling, "And he's coming right now to help me, and to put you where you
belong!"
Another howling cackle,
and he leered at her again, his black eyes seeming to bore straight into her
soul, the red smile genuine beneath the scars and lipstick,
"Is that what you really
think?"
Rachel gasped. During their tense
circling across the room, the Joker had managed to come dangerously close
towards the heavy door that closed the interrogation room. He could slip right
through if he wanted to, and she would have to chase him, would have to fire at
him as best as she could...she didn't know if she could even get a shot at him
from his distance. Her mind numbed and her breath cursed violently at the
realization, and he turned around and gazed at the door in mock surprise and
then, chuckling, shook his head.
"I know you think I'm a
coward, but...I assure you, I'm not. I'd prefer to take this little
encounter...head-on."
As he said this, he turned with
surprising, almost feline agility and twisted the door shut, wrenching the
nearest chair beneath the handle. Rachel's heart lurched sickeningly against
her chest despite herself, as her situation just grew more urgent, a little
more hopeless. A giggle bubbling in the depths of his throat, the Joker licked
his lips and hovered towards her, so close that her heart leapt again in her
body, pumped quickly with heated adrenaline. She raised the gun again, backing
up so that he was always a good few inches away from her, yet soon enough her
back hit against the surface of the metal table behind her, and she winced at
the pain of its slightly sharp edge against her body. If she turned towards the
table's side in an effort to get further away, she didn't know what he was
capable of doing the moment she turned her head. He could kill her with one
swipe of his knife at this point, break her artery
within less than a breath�s heightened panic, reducing her to a peaceful
slumber�
The thought was almost grimly
tempting, and her lip curled in disgust at her own mind�s yearning.
"Now that we're a bit
more�intimate," The Joker whispered, his hot, rancid breath filling her
nostrils and almost overpowering her as he hovered menacingly close�too close
for comfort, for anything but panic�"I'd like to seriously apologize for
the loss of your, ah�loved one. Gotham won't be able to stand on its two feet
anymore, will it? All the people who thought they were strong, that they were
powerful, will crumble�and chaos will reign. And all because Batman messed up
his priorities�if anyone is to blame, blame it on the Bat!"
His voice was suddenly an octave
higher as he practically screamed the last of the sentence; Rachel pressed
herself back against the table's sharp, dagger-like surface, her back curling
inward, glaring at his chuckling, hysterical face, the face caked with war
paint, so savage and inhuman in all its scarred mirth. All this monster
did was laugh at her pain, at her confusion, with his black hole of a mocking
mouth devouring any remote humanity around him, until everything bled like his
scars, until everything was irreparable. This man was one of those men that she
realized could never be bargained with, even after having told Bruce once a
long, long time ago that everyone was a good person, everyone deserved their
own justice.
Maybe the man before her didn�t even
count as a human being. And maybe the revulsion curling in her throat,
throbbing in her head and heart and hands, was the only right thing to feel.
Did the Joker deserve humanity? Harvey had deserved it, hadn�t he? And look
where he was now�
"Why
do you keep saying that?!"
She finally replied in rising ire, the gun shaking ferociously in her hands,
her teeth clenching in vicious restraint not to force a bullet straight through
this man's skull.
The Joker gazed at her finger upon
the trigger, his eyes narrowed with an almost smug grin upon his features. The
makeup was caked and smearing across the lower half of his face, patches of
flesh-‑�
colored skin contrasting sharply with chalk-white. Yet he still
seemed so irrevocably inhuman, nothing more than an animal in his
movements, in the casual flick of his tongue across his lips, in the way in
which he relentlessly played with her.
He�s the cat with blood-stained
teeth�and I'm always the mouse.
Her lips tightened and she kept her
eyes narrowed as he watched her, gazing straight at her resolute face, as if
admiring some pretty object with appraising eyes,
"I'm only telling the truth,
beautiful. Batman caused Harvey's death, more than anyone could have. You
see�Batman didn't mean to come help you that night. Don't you see the guilt
in his eyes whenever he tries to look at you, beside all that�manly, disgusting
lust? The powerful always go for the powerful in this city, always�eat
the weaker of the prey, and this was no exception. You see�"
As he spoke, he almost casually
pulled himself across the other half of the table near where Rachel had been
standing, sitting upon the glossy surface as if he were dictating something as
frivolous as the weather,
"Morrone's men�when they kidnapped you two. They, ah�switched the addresses in which you
lovebirds were located. Batman had to make his choice, and, originally, he
didn't choose you to save!" Another high-pitched giggle from his
lips as he uttered the horrific truth, and Rachel
actually fought the urge to pull her hands over her ears, as she pushed herself
forcefully to the side, away from the monster�s towering frame. Defiantly, he
scooted towards her, black-ringed eyes gleaming their
self-righteousness as he spoke, apathetic as to how the words stung,
"Batman chose power over
love�over your worth. Apparently, you weren't worth anything at all to
Gotham's, ah�survival. You weren't nearly as important as your little
husband-to-be, at least, not in Batman's eyes. No, he wanted to make
sure he was able to wring the neck of every criminal instead of saving his
dearest friend. And, even to me, that's hurtful! To be honest�"
He leaned even closer, the black
abyss of his irises as if she were staring into two bottomless holes,
"When I heard, I expected him
to go to save you! Of course, then he would have really saved
Harvey, and maybe he wouldn't have been as guilty, knowing that Gotham would be
okay, and you, the little�lover of two, would have been gone, like the pawn you
always were�"
"Stop it!"
Without even thinking, Rachel
pressed the gun straight against the Joker's forehead. For an instant,
bewilderment etched its way across his savage features; then he cackled again
giddy and erratic, nearly doubling over with laughter too intense for his thin
frame. The girl kept the gun steady, her body tensed with the disturbed shock
that always accompanied the peal of laughter after any tense or painful
situation the bastard encountered�had she ever seen a criminal like this, who
took the most horrific of human emotions, fear and pain, and twisted them into
pure mirth?
Did he fear anything?
"Oh, I love this, I love
this so much! I'm so glad you were the one to come through, after
all, because this is just too much fun! I would have never thought you'd come
after me, with the intent to kill me�when even the Batman himself
doesn't even kill. Maybe we're more, ah�made for one another than you
once thought, Rachel, thinking you were better than all the criminals you've
helped Dent put to jail, thinking you got some sort of self-worth and
satisfaction from all of it, hmm? But to know now that Batman would have
betrayed you, that your closest associates are working for Morrone�how
does it feel to have no one to trust, not even yourself any longer? When you wish you were the one to have died in place of poor
Harvey!"
Her fingers were shaking so
violently then that the entire gun itself trembled erratically against Joker's
forehead. How easily she could penetrate his skin, now, could put a bullet
through his flesh and end it all. How quickly she could end the horrific
laughter, bring his taunting to silence within minutes, avenge Harvey and put
Gotham�s threat and the source of all her recent nightmares to oblivion...
But he's not directly responsible
for Harvey's death, is he? You would kill a guilty man for justice, but not
guilty for the crime you wanted to avenge...
What�s the difference between
vengeance and justice? What did I say to Bruce before, when his parents were
killed?
What had happened to those values of
self-righteousness? To order? To her
sense of justice?
He was staring at her as always, the
black eyes boring into her, violating her more forcefully than any physical
touch. Rachel could feel his hot breath on her neck, her cheek, as she
contemplated just how killing the monster would feel at that moment, as she yearned
for it. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed up defiantly at his own,
and she saw in his only the empty, lusting smirk of a predator, fueled by pure
instinct and carnal thirst. He thirsted for blood; he thirsted for flesh--that
was all that moved him, all that could ever move him. What were years of
criminal analysis and sympathy for all when it came to this�thing? What
human rule applied to him, besides her own goddamned desire to put him to
justice?
She wanted to spit at him, she
wanted to lunge and hurt him for hurting Harvey, she wanted to shoot�God, how she ached to shoot!
Harvey wouldn�t do this if I had
died. Harvey would have remained strong�Harvey would have known how to move on.
Harvey�
"Yes," She murmured
quietly, so quietly it would have gone unheard by anyone but the monster before
her.
"Oh?" The man's brows rose
against his painted face as he cupped his ear, straining to hear, pressing his
forehead even harder against the tip of her pistol, "What was that?"
"I should have died instead of
Harvey," She replied, uncaring that she was revealing such thoughts to the
Joker, as she was sure at that moment she would pull the trigger, every
fabric in her being wanting this retribution to quell the horrible, aching pain
inside of her,
"Everyone knows that. But maybe
killing you will put the balance back? Maybe it will bring justice? With the
main defender of Gotham gone, and the main source of Gotham�s destruction
gone..."
A wide, twisted smile played from
ear-to-ear across the clown's face as he nodded, chuckling with a hardened tone
to his voice, like a rabid, snarling dog, the stitches rippling with scarlet
skin in a beast�s bloodied leer.
"Now you�re seeing
things the way they really are. It's not about order, beautiful, it's about
chaos...it's about anarchy. I don't make plans, I ruin them, I chase things and destroy them...like a dog! And the
only people who can make it in Gotham are the ones that destroy. This
city is a cesspool, a breeding ground for the corrupt and the damned. And the
only way to rule this place, the only absolute, is chaos. So..."
He repositioned her gun tip,
pressing it into his scarred mouth, grinning as it settled against the inside
of his cheek. Rachel's heart pumped with both toxic dread and horrific desire;
she couldn't think besides the horrible surge of adrenaline, the sickening urge
to pull, to end, to destroy. And the source, the lone
object of all of her anger and hatred and pain all these never-ending,
fear-stricken days was standing before her, offering her a chance to rid the
world of him.
"Do it," He purred
demurely against the muffled tone of his gun-filled mouth, "Do what you've
come here to do, what you've wanted to do all along. Upset the established
order. Don't be so

self-sacrificing...take what you want. Kill me. "
She tensed,
her fingers heavy on the trigger. Just one squeeze...that's it...her gun was
cocked, she could look away...she shut her eyes tight, feeling the weight of
his jaw pressing heavily

against Harvey's pistol. Harvey's pistol. What
a fitting end.
"Do it," He hissed almost
impatiently, a chuckle bubbling from deep within him, rippling across the
weapon in its gruesomely amused strength, "Do it, come on, come on,
kill me...kill me, KILL ME!"
As her fingers acted, her eyes shut
tight�and a face, an all-too familiar, all too painfully real face became the
dominant image in her mind�a blonde, smiling face, with kind eyes and a strong,
reassuring smile�the skin suddenly trickling, oozing down across the thick
bones like liquid, the muscles and tissues exposed, torn away layer by layer
into burning, bleeding pustules and ash and dust, the eyes the last
distinguishable thing as the jaw bone disconnected, covered entirely in flame,
the fire eating away at the thick strands of hair, eating away at every
remaining distinguishable feature�the ears, the nose, the cheeks, eating and
eating until there was nothing at all but burnt black bone and ashy remnants
and crawling maggots, and stop it, stop it, stop it, stop hurting the man I
love�
Harvey!
She pulled the trigger.
The bullet pierced the air like a
knife through butter, quick as a blur�
Yet it landed in thick, black armor,
no trace of the monstrous flesh it had been so close to hitting, to killing, to
ending. Black eyes stared down at her, eyes so much like those that had just
bored into her with merciless insanity. But Batman was there, Batman was
clutching with brute force at the gun in her hands, pulling it forcefully from
her grip as if she were the criminal, sending it clattering upon the
ground, as useless now as Lau�s dead, frigid body it had pressed itself against
in its descent. She fell to her knees, then, unable to comprehend what had just
happened�gazing up at the black figure before her, her eyes straining to see
behind him, to see any remaining sign of the monster who
had seemingly disappeared right into thin air�
�The Joker fled as soon as I
arrived�you fainted, and he was dragging you across the floor,
laughing��
The raspy, phony voice was apathetic
as ever around the wave of policemen that engulfed them in a sea of spiraling
blue, yet she could sense the horror in his voice, the powerlessness of perhaps
having one day come too late. Yet she couldn�t think; her breath was ragged,
her body was trembling, all she could think of was how close she had
been, how incredibly close�
�Take me home, Bruce,� She
whispered, so low even the Batman strained to her hear, �Just take me home.
I don�t want to hear it, just let me rest.�
The black figure hesitated; then,
slowly, the stiff head nodded once, twice. Strong hands pulled her up by her
arm, and she walked herself towards the door, ignoring the questions that piled
themselves upon her in torrents from the policemen who had noticed her, her
mind throbbing viciously and painfully with the taxing encounter she had just
survived through.
Survived?
She hadn�t been a victim, at least,
not while conscious; she had been the attacker, the assaulter, she
had been the one to threaten, to nearly kill�yet Batman still held her in his
tight grip just outside of the building, disappearing with her into the
blackness of nightfall. Batman still placed her securely in her apartment room,
through the unlocked window, watching her resolutely with his masked face as
she double checked the deadbolt and pulled herself quietly into her bed sheets,
seeking refuge even from his prying eyes.
Maybe vigilantes were
self-justified. Maybe they were never criminals because they never saw
themselves as such. But the police wanted the Batman. The police wanted the
Joker.
What was the difference between
justice and vengeance?
Her body hurt beneath the sheets,
felt abused and hot and crooked. She pulled off layers of restrictive clothing,
too fitful to care for a shower for one night, to mind the fact that her
clothing was strewn across the floor with case files and papers and other assorted
personal items. As Rachel struggled to fight herself into a fitful sleep, she
didn�t see the card slide from the discarded pocket of her slacks. The image of
a doubled-over black Joker leered from its papery surface as she forced her
eyes shut, covered with bloodied, sloppy scrawl:
Murderer.

Woo! Gosh, that encounter felt good
to write�and awfully abrupt, as well. I was thinking of a million different
ways to end the little talk between the Joker and Rachel (first of many, of
course�) but I decided to get Batman involved as the other version ran a bit
too long for comfort, even with our favoriteeee
Joker! haha�well, I�m glad I introduced him in here,
as brief as it seemed (even though he made up the entire chapter!) because I
can progress with the storyline and make things much more interesting from
here-on. I�m so excited to write Chapter 3! Ahh!
Yes, I did end up borrowing some of
the Joker�s speech to Harvey post-disfiguration because�well, it was just too Joker
to leave out, and I think it�s integral to his
character, the mad dog metaphor and whatnot. I can�t leave him improperly
characterized, even in his relentless mental torture of others�(poor Rachel.)
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