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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
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Dark
Humor
Five
Justice
is balance.
--Ra�s
Al Ghul

Bruce�s gaze never seemed to falter,
even as the Joker stood before him, his knife running along the outline of his
cheek, the pressure hard enough to break skin at any moment. Rachel was
transfixed, staring at that sharp object, dread filling her as she realized
what could happen within seconds if the psychopath was anymore provoked, if
Bruce said anything remotely justifying his butchering.
But this is the Joker�s provocation�he may just kill him no matter what. Unless I play along his rules�
Could she prevent this? By the heat
of the man�s breath behind her, suddenly flaming and wickedly excited, Rachel
bit the inside of her cheek and wondered if his perverse desire for blood
couldn�t possibly be stopped. Bruce�s defiance was what triggered this; maybe,
if she protested, she could get him out of this alive.
�Bruce, please,� Rachel
murmured as her sadistic captor continued to trace invisible lines along her
oldest friend�s face, as if selecting which part to carve away first, to make
gush with downpours of blood, �Please just let me go. Please.�
Couldn�t he see what his defiance
was doing? Of course she would never give into the Joker�s provocations
when they were alone, when it was only her life at risk. But with all these
people watching with bated breath, these people who included her dearest
friend, his life or death weighing in the flick of a bloodthirsty criminal�s
wrist�
They needed to give him control.
Satisfy him, and no one would get hurt.
Except
herself, of course. But at
the moment it didn�t even seem to matter.
�Please, Rachel,� The dark-haired
vigilante replied, his voice unnervingly calm even with the knife scratching at
his cheek, �I�ve dealt with much worse than some psychotic clown��
All she could hear for a fleeting
instant was her own strangled cry as Bruce�s head fell backwards against the
seat, a gush of red flying through the air as blood flew across his left cheek.
Laughter pierced the air; loud, maniacal, ecstatic. The Joker�s tongue flicked
across his mouth as if to satisfy the thirst in his black eyes, and Rachel was
unable to hide her panic, her chest heaving, her body trembling against the
firm fist clenched in her hair.
�Bruce! Bruce, stop it, please!
You don�t have to do this�just let me go!�
�Oh, but we�re all just having so
much fun!� The Joker protested with another bark of laughter, his eyes
taking in the fright that now etched her face as if it were sweeter than the blood
that coursed across Bruce�s cheek, �Why Brucey-boy is
looking better than ever, he�s so eager to just put a smile on
that serious face! And anyway, he was being rude, interrupting my story!
Let�s teach him some manners, shall we?�
With another lightning-swift jerk he
whipped around and Bruce�s sharp intake of breath was all that filled Rachel�s
ears. Her eyes widened as she saw another line of red, just below the gash upon
his cheek, trailing and dribbling across his neck, spotting the white of his suit
coat with blood. Bruce didn�t seem fazed�he clutched onto the side of his face
with a defiant glare, even while Rachel felt as if she would collapse at any
moment, felt the dread emanating throughout the room in waves. The Joker was
chuckling, wiping the bloodied knife against a green sleeve,
�Now, now, Brucey-boy,
you�re looking a tad sloppy. Wouldn�t want to, ah�bleed us all of your charming
good looks.�
He raised his brows as he spoke, the
mocking leer an upturned gash against his white face. Rachel�s mind couldn�t
function against the panic; she pushed forward against the Joker�s grip,
senselessly, only wanting this to stop, and found herself snarling in
bursting fury as the Joker�s hand merely clenched with harder force upon her
hair and pulled her so roughly she felt as if her neck would break.
�Stop it, you fucking prick!�
Rachel hissed against the obvious pain in her voice; an entire half of Bruce�s
face was drenched in blood, now, red and slippery.
With a bitterly amused glance in her
direction, the Joker cackled to her shivering form as if they were sharing
their own personal joke. And in a way, they were�they both knew that
Bruce would die, convinced to let her go or not. They both knew that he had
signed away his own fate by his protests, by his intimate relationship with
Rachel, and because of this realization she felt a soft whimper tug at her lips
with unconscious force. He heard it�his ears seemed to perk and his
twisted grin widened, yet his attention was still rapt upon the blood that
coursed along Bruce�s wounded face, as if carnally absorbed by the stream of
red.
She couldn�t take this anymore.
Rachel began to fear she would scream in pure, frustrated terror, in the rage
that boiled in her heart, seething over with her desire to put an end to
Bruce�s suffering and hurt this man that was wreaking havoc upon the people she
loved.
�Oh, no,
no no no no-ooo!
That�s not how you beg, Rachel, that�s not how you do it at all.
You see, I don�t stop. I never stop,� A glint in his
eye as he spoke, twirling the knife in his hand as if considering which area of
Bruce�s face to slash at next, �I could just go on doing this forever,
you see, because I enjoy it so very much! Batman is always the one to
stop all my fun, you know...�
Eyes wide and excited, he leaned
forward, and she could imagine his hot breath on Bruce�s face. Rachel watched
with unshed tears as the Joker loomed so close to the unmasked vigilante that
when he raised his knife again to Bruce�s unharmed cheek, it was already
digging painfully into his flesh, breaking at the surface of skin,
�But he�s not here right now, is
he?�
His voice was almost a whisper as he
spoke the words, and for one horrible instant Rachel thought the Joker knew
that the man he was torturing was Batman. But that couldn�t be, if only
because it was too horrific to imagine. Bruce was still sitting as still as
possible, their eyes boring into the other�s in the most primal of loathing,
�Is he?!� The Joker barked,
then, and cut another gash across the previously unharmed cheek, thin and long
and dripping.
He pulled himself from Bruce�s form,
snickering at the flash of pain in the man�s eyes while turning again to
examine the blood splattered upon his blade, as if it were an object of his
proud handiwork. Rachel watched him as he gazed upon her from the corner of his
eye, unable to contain the fear and white-hot anger that flashed across her
face. She spoke, then, hating the Joker for what she was forced to say, for the
words of false comfort that tugged upon her lips,
�Just let me go, Bruce�it�s okay. Batman will come. Batman will save me.�
A giggle burst from the upturned,
sneering mouth, and he wiped the blood of his blade on Bruce�s pant leg, the
bleeding vigilante�s lip curled as if he ached to lash out right there and
then. He gazed relentlessly into Rachel�s eyes at her words, his face
unreadable even if unmarred by blood; indescribable, the powerlessness that lay
there, like nothing she had ever seen upon a face that had always been in so
much control.
�That�s right, beautiful,�
The Joker crooned in mock agreement, his knife upper-cutting the air as if in a
salute, �The Batman will come and save us all! Just like how he saved Smarvey Harvey, wired to those bombs. Just how he saved you on the other end!�
Another
private joke, a vicious irony gleaming in his eyes as he jabbed the knife
towards her with his final, painful words.
They cut her like no physical attack could cut, its
serrated edge infectious and stinging as it tore through her. Bruce watched her
uneasily, now, as she felt the betrayal returning, unwanted and unbidden, to
her mind, burning in the back of her throat. It intermingled with the panic, so
dreadfully wrong yet so strong amidst her mind�s disarray.
He knew, now. He knew the Joker had
told her of his decision to save Harvey and let her die�she could see it in his
desperate stare, in the blood-caked pleading, could feel it in the way her
heart wrenched stubbornly amidst the fear she had just suffered for him. And yet
he was the one suffering, now, the one being tortured, the one so
desperately in need of help it almost disgusted her.
Anger�for who?
Anger towards the Joker, who was hurting them both now; she,
mentally, him, physically? Or anger returning from its dormant state,
aimed towards Batman�Bruce? But it wasn�t the time for that, for
those emotions that the Joker stirred with his barrage of truths, it wasn�t right
for her anger to come at Batman of all people, when he was sitting before her,
being victimized. When they needed him.
�Batman did save me,� She
found herself hissing in protest, unable to contain her anger any longer, �And
he�ll make sure you get yours.�
The Joker watched her, his face
darkening for a moment, then upturned in a series of excited giggles,
�Really?! Well clearly he�s abandoning you all at the moment, hmm?�
He turned towards her, forgetting
about Bruce; just as she had intended, his blade slicing in a diagonal arc
through the air, dangerously close to her body, �Not so confident when the Bat
isn�t here to defend every little powerless person in this room, eh?
Where is he now, flying about and waiting to pick up the bodies once I�m
finished?! Even�� His laughter had been bubbling and was too strong to be
contained, now; he paused and brought the back of his hand up towards his
mouth, as if to curb his hysterics, �Even the police force is locked up
here, defenseless and stupid! We need a�a bat to save us, a criminal just
like me! And he�s not even here�hilarious!�
He clutched upon his torso, doubled
over with laughter�Rachel writhed in his grip, fighting the urge to kick him
right then and there. Bruce was growling in anger at the Joker�s words, at his
insults, at his taunts; and it was then that the heavy doors began to shake and
shudder, angry slamming and shouting on the other end. A wrenched cry of hope
twisted in Rachel�s throat as she stared at the double doors, heard the
determined shouts on the other end.
The Joker himself stopped laughing,
head snapping upwards as he paused to glare at the doors with furrowed brows.
The pounding continued, some strong force on the other end�a heavy object, a
projectile of some sort�threatening to break the hinges apart. Gasps and cries
of desperation flew across the crowd, and the madman who had been interrupted
yet again began to scowl.
�Seems my party has to be put on hold,�
He hissed in annoyance, appearing sincerely disappointed, �Well, you�ve all
been a wonderful crowd, but more victims are beckoning, and�oh, Brucey, why the long face?�
Rachel gasped at the Joker�s words
as realization struck her like a blunt force. This wasn�t over.
Of course
not.
There were still a few minutes
before the SWAT team undoubtedly behind the doorway could get through�he would
have his fun, and he would make sure it killed. With a growl, Bruce kept
his gaze still as the Joker skipped towards him; the smuggest smile perched
upon his face,
�You see�I wasn�t finished with my
story! But I�ll tell it a little differently�the short, altered version of it,
since we�re running low on time and, you know, you�ve been such a good
little guest.� He patted Bruce�s cheeks, staining his gloves red, the force of
contact stinging against Bruce�s bleeding face, and raised his knife to the
side of his mouth.
Rachel�s body froze; she whimpered
openly, now, pleading quietly. God, she was pleading.
�No,� She hissed quietly against the
Joker�s seemingly oblivious frame, �No, no, no!�
He ignored her, so wrapped up in his
own pleasure, as he cleared his throat theatrically and began to speak,
�I got these scars�when I was
a, ah, younger lad. I worked night-shift jobs for bosses like Maroni, I was so...desperate for some money for my
family, for my abusive parents. But the boss didn�t like me, I�m afraid,
because whenever he�d try and get me to listen to him, I�d be so�disrespectful,
so bitter and angry and always frowning. And so, he pinned me to a
chair, tied me up real tight, and he brought a butcher knife to my face. And he
said, holding the knife in my mouth��
He then pressed the knife against
the inside of Bruce�s mouth, Rachel�s body quivering so violently she felt her
knees would give in at any moment. Bruce was still quiet, making no sign of
fear whatsoever�the Joker nodded, grinning, and began to bark,
�Why so
serious, boy?! And then he flicked the knife in my
mouth and said, I just want you to smile, so smile!�And he stabbed me right�here!�
With breakneck speed, the knife flew
from Bruce�s mouth to stab straight into his chest, twisting and ripping a
diagonal line across his torso.
No.
�No! Bruce! BRUCE!�
Rachel could do nothing but scream, her eyes wide and her mind panicked beyond coherent
thought. She screamed and screamed as Bruce slumped against his wired seat, his
eyes glazed, hands grabbing at his torn torso as if to hold the blood back that
seeped and oozed thickly across his reddened shirt; screamed as the Joker
laughed hysterically even then, throwing her backwards across the floor and
rushing across the room just as the door began to break open and the SWAT team
rushed through; screamed even long after the he disappeared, the wire bombs
found and cut away.
The room had been spinning,
sickeningly, violently fast; she remembered scrabbling for him as they pulled
him away, the never-ending scream tearing through her mind, her body, never seeming
to stop, even when her throat was raw and she was gathered up in an incoherent
pile on the ground.
Weak, her mind hissed darkly amidst the flickering of her
consciousness, as she clutched upon her shaking knees, Bait. Nothing but bait.
Hands were pulling her to her feet�just
hurt me too, just cut me up, cut me up like all the rest�carrying her
across the room that was now empty, forlorn.
Her body felt limp and lax against
Gordon�s grip. She remembered watching the stretcher that carried Bruce�s body
along the same path as it wheeled quickly across the hall, the people pulling
him frantic and shouting�with a slow, jerky movement she held her hand out to
the stretcher that was now gone, held it out even as it grew smaller, smaller
in her rampant thoughts, before swallowed up completely by the darkness of
another possible collapse. Gordon was holding her more firmly, then, shouting
garbled words into her ear; it�s all right now, it�s okay, everything will
be fine, you need to lie down and recuperate you need to rest�
She wouldn�t let Gordon take her
anywhere. Rachel remembered shaking her head adamantly at all of his pleas, his
coercions, even when he took her to the hospital despite this, sitting her down
and talking as calmly as he could.
Somehow she found she was conscious,
now, somewhat alert. It had felt like a dream, but it wasn�t, not when
it hurt so badly. When did they get here? What time was it? She was shuddering
beneath the penetrating cold, the chills that swept her spine, struggling to
focus, to adjust to the world of sanity, of clarity.
She had a blanket wrapped around
her. She didn�t know where it came from. All she knew was that it was suddenly
heavy, suffocating, scorching on her skin. Gordon was sitting at the chair near
hers, in the hallway just near the room Bruce had been taken into, watching her
with earnest sympathy, his hands running across his hair, his face, glasses
askew against his hands,
�Bruce will be fine, Rachel. He�ll need some time in the hospital, of course, but it will
only be a little while. He�ll refuse to stay any longer than a day. He�s a
strong man. There�s nothing to worry about.�
He patted her hand carefully, a
smile plastered upon his worry-wrinkled eyes. Rachel could see the hypocrisy
behind that gaze; the unspoken words, the lingering sense of betrayal that even
she still felt.
Batman didn�t come save us because
Batman is the one who being tortured.
Even vigilantes can bleed, can nearly die. Even they can be powerless�
Gordon sighed and pinched the bridge
of his nose at her lack of response. She felt like a criminal, being
interrogated�first Bruce, now this. She found herself tracing empty patterns
along her blanketed lap, imagining that knife that had been in his hands
so shortly before, memorizing their movements, their strokes�
Chill isn�t the same. He never was.
He didn�t go after your loved ones, Bruce, after
slaughtering your parents.
Mentally she chided him, though she
knew he would never hear; her fingers still traced the invisible patterns of
knife lines against the beige surface, imagining the solid mass as skin;
stark-white and bloodied by her touch. He�d never be able to hurt anyone again,
never be able to cause them all so much pain.
If Chill hadn�t stopped at your parents,
Bruce�if he had gone on slaughtering Alfred, myself�
Her fist clenched and struck the
wall behind her, so abruptly and forcefully that Gordon jumped upwards. For a
sickening moment, Rachel felt a vicious satisfaction, imagining her undoubtedly
bruising knuckles as that knife striking the final blow in that hideously
mirthful face, putting it to silence.
Beautiful,
wonderful silence.
�Gordon. �
She was whispering, the edge of
desperation in her voice surprising her. When had she sounded so�sickly, as
if her voice were wrenched in a sob?
The Commissioner stiffened for a
moment, eyeing her warily. Of course, he would have reduced any of her actions
now and in the past hour as hysteria; by-products of chaos, panic, shock. Maybe
it was hysteria that shook her now, that unnerved her to the point of
terrible, violent urges.
I was never this way�I never wanted
to hurt anyone. I never wanted�I just wanted justice,
didn�t I? What is this? What do I do to someone I can�t prosecute, someone who
won�t stop�
She knew the answer. Her blood sang
it in her veins, hardened with adrenaline. Her mind, twisted and distraught,
assaulted her with images of cold, raw vengeance, of blood and fire and
destruction, ending the cries and screams of Gotham with the crying of the
Joker himself�
Impossible. Yet she ached for it. She needed it, more than ever,
needed to know that Bruce�s wounds could be reciprocated. That Harvey�s body,
lost and destroyed, could be justified with another body destroyed in its wake.
Of course she wouldn�t be strong enough, of course it
wasn�t the right thing, especially in the exhausted eyes of the man
before her. The tortured Commissioner, hurt because he couldn�t do what even
Batman refused to do, could never end the suffering that gripped Gotham
in its unrelenting fist because they could never end the lives of those who
threatened it�
The words formed on her lips before
she could stop them.
�I can�t sit here anymore. I can�t
sit here and wait for him to kill again, to massacre everyone with all of us
just doing nothing��
Her plea was stopped short. Gordon
interrupted swiftly, his worry intensifying at what could only be, on her part,
sudden dementia,
�Waiting is all you can do,
Rachel. You�re the newest D.A., of these criminals would be after you. Of
course you�d be afraid. We�ll move you to a new location, we�ll protect you.�
Rachel�s nails dug into the arm of
her chair, pressing her body weight against its surface. How many people would
she have to persuade to take her seriously, to not interpret her words as a
sign of panicked weakness? How many people would keep labeling her as needing protection,
when her life truly had no matter in the balance of Gotham�s fate? D.A. was a
position that was interchangeable, its title bearers easily replaced�Batman was
not. Commissioner Gordon was not.
If anything, Harvey�s death had been
expected, soon enough. There was never a D.A. that lasted long in Gotham. Hers
would be expected as well�mourned even less. Almost harmless,
in the darkest way possible.
She wanted to protect them.
If she had to, she would sacrifice herself. She would fight back with the
inevitable outcome that she would die. What other choice did they have?
When everything goes according to
plan, you�re all happy with your bloodshed.
The high-pitched voice haunted her
thoughts, thoughts that lay curled within her subconscious like a snake
slithering through cranial nerves, adamantly coiled no matter how desperately
she tried to rid herself of its presence.
�I don�t want to be protected,�
Rachel found herself saying, her frustration seeking the proper words to embody
even as it threatened to seethe and burst, �I�m not the one needing protection.
Can�t you see, Gordon? Can�t you see what he�s doing? We�ll give
him what he wants, and he�ll stop, and it will be okay again. If I don�t give
myself up, then Gotham will continue��
�Rachel, you�re not in the best
state of mind right now. We have it under control; we�re not going to give into
this madman. Just calm down, and relax. You don�t need to die for anyone.�
He had interrupted her again, waving
her frantic words away as frivolous overreaction. She squeezed her eyes shut
and gnashed her teeth together in her mouth�in the back of her mind, she heard
mocking, cruel laughter. By this time she was sure her little conversation with
Gordon was attracting curious onlookers, yet she didn�t really care.
She would be leaving here soon;
anyway, she would be going back to her apartment. Yes, she was going to go
back, uncaring if the Joker knew her address, consciously blindsided by the
anger which she knew was crippling her. Bruce would have been shaking her by
now, if he wasn�t lying inert in the room across from their hunched bodies,
telling her she was foolish, that she needed to get a hold of herself.
Get a hold of yourself.
But what was there left to get a
hold of in the first place?
�You�re right,� She said suddenly,
her eyes fixed upon the closed door of Bruce�s room rather than Gordon�s face,
�I don�t need to die. I can always defend myself.�
Before the meaning of her words
could register, she continued, holding a feeble hand out as if to beg. Her
words, however, came out in aggressive command,
�The best thing you could do right
now, is give me your gun.�
Rachel was silent after, her eyes
flicking towards his to gauge his reaction. Gordon paused and stared at her,
incredulous. It was almost funny, the way he looked at her, as if she were a
child who wanted a bazooka for her birthday.
�Rachel, you�re in shock right now.
You�re not capable of making any rational decision, we both know this. If I did
that��
�Do you want another dead
D.A.?! Do you want me to be defenseless if he finds me?! Your police force is
useless now, filled with mobsters. Give me your gun!�
Her voice was a roar; passing nurses
were staring, some visibly panicked by the mention of �gun.� Gordon snapped his
head and glared at the surrounding hospital personnel, causing them to
immediately quiet and look the other way.
Deep down, he knew she was right. He
had to agree. There would be no way Gordon could ensure her protection,
especially with crooked cops running about, acting as double-agents for the
mob. Yet he still protested, still used his feeble logic, if only to prevent
another death he was powerless to stop.
�Rachel, this isn�t the best course
of action�we both know that. Even if some of my men are�questionable in whom
they�re working for, it�s better to take that chance than to have you unguarded
and handling a gun you may not even know how to use.�
�Really?� She asked automatically, as if her mouth were mechanically
controlled by her own bitterness, �Is that how it worked for Harvey, too, when
your men wired him up to all those oil drums?�
As she said this, one of the two
policemen that were pacing quietly near Gordon froze. Rachel could make out the
way her mouth twitched, the way her head lowered. Officer Ramirez, wasn�t it?
Gordon, unaware of the officer�s sudden sign of discomfort sighed heavily and
watched Rachel through the slits between his hands,
�Listen, Rachel. I�d appreciate it
if you didn�t insult my officers, even if I don�t currently know which ones are
loyal. We�re doing the best we can to sort them out and I don�t need your
goading because it certainly won�t boost our morale or make it any easier. Now,
I understand that you�re afraid, because we�re all afraid�but we�re not going
to do anything we�ll regret later. We need to keep things rational in an
irrational time.�
He watched her with desperation,
silently begging her to concede to his words. Her insides wrenched painfully as
if being squeezed to the point of implosion. Slowly his hand pushed forward to
curl her outstretched fingers shut, yet she flinched and pushed her hand away
before he could touch her. Rachel didn�t need any comfort in the face of this
new rejection; it failed to change anything.
�I�m sorry, Rachel.�
Gordon patted her shoulder, as if
still aching to touch her, as if it were some act of repentance on his part for
all the tragedies they had just suffered. He pulled himself to his feet and
began to walk down the corridor, his weariness evident in the slow-paced slouch
of his steps. She was alone, now, sitting in front of Bruce�s room, waiting
impatiently for her chance to hear that he would be all right.
She just wanted to see him.
She buried her face in her hands,
struggling to maintain her battered composure, if only to think through what
she could possibly do next. She was unarmed, Batman was temporarily gone,
Gordon was uncooperative, and she could either sleep in the hospital or in her
apartment�two places which both lay exposed and unprotected despite any amount
of officer stationed before them. The only safe place was Bruce�s home, and
even Bruce wouldn�t be there tonight.
And I can�t trust anyone anymore to
help me. All Gotham cares about is saving its own hide.
In her panic, the words of a
madman�s reasoning resonated through her head, that slithering snake coiled
deep within her hissing its venom within her mind, words that could never
possibly make any coherent sense,
You're all out for yourselves, but
you don't really know it yet, not until you're put in a situation.
God, there was no escape, was
there?
Footsteps stopped before her, and
she caught the sight of the navy blue of a uniform. Rachel�s breath hitched;
she swept her eyes upward, and at Ramirez�s expressionless face her body
stiffened, a snarl at the edge of her voice,
�You��
�Listen,� Ramirez said
quickly, raising her hands and lowering her head to Rachel�s level, her voice
deathly quiet, �I know you know what I did. And as much as you may want to
scream at me right now, tell Gordon all this shit was my fault, I�m telling you
right now that I had no idea what was going to happen and I didn�t mean to
do it��
�Didn�t mean to do it? You didn�t
mean to get my fianc�e killed?� Rachel shot back, her voice just as quiet as
Ramirez�s yet edged with sharp hostility.
The female officer sighed in obvious
exasperation, though Rachel couldn�t quite figure out why she could expect
anything else from her at this point. Did she want her to accept her apology,
to wave it off and laugh like it was a misunderstanding? Just to clear her
pathetic little conscience, despite the life her actions had cost?
�Look, I didn�t know the mob
and�and�� Ramirez stopped short at the Joker�s name, choosing to side-step it,
�him, were going to hurt you two. I swear. I just�he threatened
me, and��
Her words fell mute on Rachel�s
ears. She could feel the murderous glare without even willingly inflicting it
upon the crooked cop; it was a habit, now, to glare like this. Only a week ago
she would have smiled at everyone, at all the people she had always assumed to
be trustworthy, kind-hearted. Funny how things could twist
themselves so quickly.
�Cut the crap,� Rachel sighed
instead, and went to lower her head dismissively, �Nothing you say can justify
all this. Gotham is upside-down and you�re one of the reasons why.�
Ramirez cursed beneath her breath.
At first she took it as an angry response to her words, but Rachel was
surprised to find the feeling of cold metal against her fingertips. Her head
snapped upwards to meet the woman�s gaze, which was expressionless as she
pushed the gun into the D.A.�s lap.
�Just take this as an apology for
something I can�t fix. And if you still want to rip my face off�then
feel free.�
Rachel gripped the gun and pocketed
it in her overcoat before any passing eyes could see; within an instant Ramirez
had her back turned and was walking away, as if their conversation had never
happened. A twisted snarl of both bewilderment and hatred grazed the back of
her throat.
The
cowardly bitch. Helping her only to clear her own name.
Once
a crooked cop, always a crooked cop.
Yet at the moment, it didn�t matter.
She had a gun. Her thoughts became a little calmer, a little less mangled and
chaotic, a little more hers again. As the D.A. traced the solid form
within her jacket, she waited with renewed patience for her admittance into
Bruce�s room. She would sit out here all night, if that�s how long it took her.
For now, she was a little less
defenseless.
A little
less afraid.
And when the night was over, she
would have her little chat with the Joker.

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Dark Humor