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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Dark Humor
Nine
��Justice is
balance.�
--Ra�s AlGhul

As Rachel reached the towering warehouses, finally, finally,
the screams went silent, and she was left with only the screams inside of her
mind. The buildings that lined the Docks were eerily quiet, save for the
squeals of seagulls and the gently lapping waters in the distance. Frustration
threatened to explode in a shriek from her gut as she realized there was no way
she could tell any of the warehouses apart; every single one� was black and
identical, save for painted white numbers marking them apart from the other,
ending somewhere in the 50�s at the very edge of her vision.
God, no. Don�t let it end like this.
She bit back a frustrated sob, banging her fist hard against
the side of the first warehouse�s wall, her knuckles biting into its surface
with a painful sting. She was going to be too late, the Joker would take
her absence as a form of defiance, and he would be looking for her, the first
place he would undoubtedly go to Bruce�s home�
Voices. She heard voices.
Rachel gasped at the sound and pulled herself behind the
warehouse wall, peering over the edge as the voices came closer. There were at
least three of them, sounding frantic, uttering chains of curses and cries. She
recognized them as mobsters by their all-too-familiar faces, though the fact
that those faces were contorted in panic made them almost unrecognizable
outside of the courtroom. They were running, fleeing from warehouse
number six, towards a car parked within the alley they began to disappear into,
as if some monster would burst through the doors and come nipping at their
heels.
When she emerged from her hiding place, it became painfully
obvious where the Joker was lying in wait. The white number marking the sixth
warehouse was smeared over with blood red splotches, the thick liquid oozing
down across the six into a strange horizontal pattern. She peered closer and
saw it resembled him�a bloodied, dripping curve of a smile, topped by an
oozing red stare.
She ran towards the building as the mob car zoomed past,
every last second another second the Joker could have made his escape.

oOo
The first thing she saw past the heavy warehouse door was
fire.
Rachel hid behind a cluster of barrels at the very back of
the room as she stared up at the flames, felt the heat searing and licking at
her skin even from her distance. The shadows of figures twisted across the
orange cast of the fire, and as she raised her head just slightly above the
barrels she could make out the back of a familiar green head, pacing steadily
before the source of the flames. A huge pile of money was heaped before him in
a pyramid fashion, its very tip ignited in a raging inferno that began to
steadily course across each individual bill. It would take a half hour at the most
for the entire thing to set aflame, taking the warehouse with it.
She could hear that high-pitched voice that filled her body
with loathing. He was speaking to someone, a familiar mobster in a
leather jacket, his thick Russian accent doing nothing to offset the terror in
his voice.
�This town deserves a better class of criminal... and
I'm gonna give it to them. Tell your men they work for me now.
This is my city.�
The Russian argued feebly, his anger masking his
helplessness,
�They won�t work for a freak!�
A pause, nothing but the crackling flames and the sounds of
someone whimpering in the background. Then the Joker�s voice returned, low and
mocking and twisted in a snarl,
�A fah-reak!�
He tossed what she saw to be a knife to a masked man nearby,
and three others identical to him went to grab the Russian mobster, who
struggled futilely in their combined grip,
�Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed
you to your pooches? Hmm? And then we'll see how loy-al a
hungry dog really is!�
The mobster screamed as he was hoisted away, and then the
Joker seemed to be alone, save for the strange whimpering noise in the
background, almost identical to the cries she had heard in her phone. He was
hunched over, still pacing, eyeing the flaming pile of money as it continued to
disintegrate,
��It's not about money... it's about sending a mes-sage.
Everything burns��
A cackle burst from his red mouth, and Rachel found herself
bringing the gun quietly from her coat pocket, finding this opportunity the
best she could possibly have. His back was turned to her, the purple suit
invitingly still, even as her shaking hands aimed for his frame from so far
away�
�Am I right, Ra-chel?�
His words came out in a satisfied hiss, and her heart leapt
in her throat,
�You�re a bit late, you know. For a bloodthirsty mur-der-er,
you sure have a shitty sense of timing!�
He had known she was hiding there, all along.
How?
The Joker whipped around, their eyes meeting instantly, his
wide and dark with that sadistic hunger she had been so accustomed to seeing.
The flames shot up like a fiery aura behind his bloody
smile, casting an orange glow over the sickly white pall of his leering face.
Rachel felt the pang of hostility mixed with something else in her stomach that
usually accompanied seeing him, though for once, that other emotion wasn�t
fear. She wasn�t afraid of him anymore�not when she had found herself sinking
so perilously close to his level. As she held her gun even with his face, he
walked forward, unabashed by her weapon, his brows rising so high the black
arches seemed to disappear beneath greasy locks of wild hair,
�But I brought you a purr-es-ent! Don�t you want to see
it-tuh?�
The wildly accented voice, as random and chaotic as his own
fearsome nature, oozed with excitement. Rachel�s grip on her gun stiffened as
she realized the Joker had no fear of her assault; of course, he feared nothing,
with his ready acceptance and carelessness towards death. It was all a random
chain of events for him; everything was in a constant state of complete chaos.
And for once, she thought she knew just how comforting that chaos could be, how
it would feel to rely on nothing but primal instinct to guide your every
action, uncaring as to binding law and restrictions that judged the value of a
life.
It would be so freeing, somehow�and as she looked
into his shining black orbs she saw how he reveled in that utter freedom from
rigidly defined humanity, from emotion and obedience.
That was why his offer of a present both piqued her
curiosity and made her more wary.
Rachel knew she had been alive too long, playing in the
Joker�s games. He killed even his closest accomplices�what was she, a knowing pawn,
still doing alive, without so much as disfigurement from his hands to show
proof of their previous encounters?
Unless he�s not done playing the game. Unless I�m still
the mouse, hanging by my tail, waiting to be dropped into his hungry jaws and
devoured.
Rachel eyed him cautiously; he returned her gaze with a
cocked head, his arms folding before his purple-clothed chest,
�Hmph. Well, if you�re going to be a spoil
�sport about it, I might as well not show you at all! What a waste
of some good binding��
He was muttering to himself, now, turning his back as if she
wouldn�t dare to fire a shot at him from behind, even as her fingers quivered
on the trigger, her damnable curiosity growing to epic heights within her. She
found herself peering over the barrel, standing to get a good look at what the
Joker was walking towards. It was still too far from her vision to see, yet soon
she was straining to see it, more from wonder than from anything else.
Rachel finally took a few steps forward, wondering if that
very present she was aching to see wasn�t going to kill her in a few fatal
seconds of misjudgment.
Then she caught sight of what the Joker had been holding in
store for her, and she �had to bite her tongue to hold back the scream.
It was Maroni, tied and writhing wildly against thick, wiry
rope in a tiny chair, his eyes bulging in panic as he screamed desperately
against the gag tied securely around his mouth. His body seemed pale and
colorless in his fear, a sharp contrast against the pulsing scarlet glow of the
flames as they devoured the mob money, red as blood across his features. Rachel
walked closer, her gun at her side, her mouth agape in sheer, stunned silence.
The Joker grinned with wicked delight, resting his head
across Maroni�s shoulder and cupping his chin in a gloved hand. He looked like
a dog as his tongue flicked outward momentarily to wet his lips, his wide eyes
and bloody grin as if he were proud of the dying carcass he had dragged in from
his latest hunt. Maroni writhed even more intensely against his bonds as the
Joker stroked the bottom of his chin, tilted his face left and right in his
grip with a wicked cackle,
�Oh, there, there, shh-shh-shh! I�m not
going to kill you tonight, not when you�ve been so useful to me, Maroni!�
He was stroking his cheeks as Maroni went from glaring to
whimpering to a near-sob in the sociopath�s iron grip. The Joker wouldn�t stop
smiling as he spoke, and Rachel found she was too slow to understand the double
meaning in his words as he taunted the bound mob boss, pressing his white cheek
against Maroni�s,
�No, no, no, that would take all the fun out
of the game! In order to make things more �in-ter-rest-ing�we
need to add some op-tions to the game, some chance.�
He was playing with his prey, taunting it before he killed
it. He continued to rub his cheek against Maroni�s as he spoke, so roughly the
side of his white face paint was coming off, leaving greasy trails against the
mob boss�s cheek. Maroni didn�t seem to be paying attention to what the Joker
was saying; he was still whimpering, staring at him with those bulging,
frog-like eyes, and Rachel was stunned because she had never seen him so
weak and afraid before, never during their court spars, never in the
interrogation sessions.
People change when they�re faced with death, Rachel. Even
the most fearless, if they have something to live for.
Of course, the two of them were the exception�though she
despised the thought of comparing herself to the bastard before her, who was
currently cooing soothingly to his terrified little prisoner as if he weren�t
going to end up maiming him somehow. She knew better than to expect that, as
she summoned all her strength to glare at the Joker and narrow her eyes,
�What are you talking about? Why do you have Maroni all tied
up here?�
The Joker snorted, then, barely able to suppress a laugh in
her direction. He cocked his head, leaning it against Maroni�s cheek again, his
fingers grabbing at the mob boss�s other cheek and pinching so tightly Maroni
was yelping in pain against his mouth gag,
�Well aren�t we a bit suh-low tonight?! For a
D.A., you�re a little�clueless. I wasn�t kidding when I told you I brought
you a present, you know.�
Rachel stared at him as realization dawned upon her. Then
her brow arched and she stepped backward a bit, repulsed,
��This is my�present? What do you expect me to��
For once, the clown seemed exasperated. He rolled his eyes
and gave a deep, mocking sigh, grabbing a small tank she hadn�t previously
noticed near the chair,
�Since you�re so very eager and stupid, here
are the op-tions I mentioned before.� Either you give Ma-ro-ni
here a taste of your newfound justice, because I know you are dying
to, or��
The crooked smile seemed to carve a new gash into his face.
In an instant, he raised the tank of gasoline and flung it towards Maroni,
drenching his body in the flammable liquid, his hair matted to his forehead, a
muffled scream of pain tearing from the gag as the gasoline seeped into his
eyes. Rachel found herself gasping, now, though the emotions that fought within
her were far from horror at Maroni�s expense. She was horrified at the fact
that any man could be so twisted, so free of guilt or restraints that he
would go as far as to set Maroni on fire.
��Ma-ro�-ni here will shoot up in flames to be
with the number one love of his life!� As he spoke, he stretched his
arms out in a wide arc to encompass the burning, collapsing hilltop of money
behind him, his features glowing like a sadistic jack-o-lantern, �And it�s aw-fully
fitting, isn�t it, for Smarvey�s number-one killer to go the same way?�
Her body felt frozen as she stood there, contemplating his
words. Was he doing her a favor, bringing Maroni here to be killed
before her eyes?
But no�there were no favors in the Joker�s world.
There was destruction that led to even more destruction in its wake. This
wasn�t to fix things; it was to make them worse, because, in his world,
the way things improved was if they were wrecked just a little more, to
distance them away from any type of comfort, any type of order. Maroni�s death
would mean something else would break in the process, but what would it be?
She didn�t want to think it was her sanity.
That had been in question for a long time, now.
Rachel had only then become aware that Maroni had been
glaring at her, his bulging pink eyes filled with pure, maddened hatred. He was
grunting words beneath the gag, which she could probably guess to be vulgar and
explicit, aimed exclusively towards her. She remembered the countless agonizing
days of unsuccessful trials due to sabotaged evidence and bribed policemen; the
hard mockery in his eyes when she would question him during a case to no avail,
the grin that carved his hard face when he managed to slip away, through bail
or bribery, into another day of crime and murder and pain�endless days of
worrying for Bruce�s safety, worrying to read of Batman�s downfall in the
morning paper�
To think he would have a different type of smile carved upon
his face now; red and bloody and lifeless.
It set her veins on fire; ecstatic, hungry fire.� If this
happiness was the price of her sanity, she wondered what type of rapture the
truly mad would feel.
�Fine,� she hissed, ready to turn her heel and walk out of
the warehouse dismissively, �Let him burn with all his money.� Just like all
the innocent lives he�s taken for it all.�
As she walked, her feet making soft staccatos on the hard
ground, a hand clamped around her shoulders like a vice, whipping her around
almost violently. Rachel huffed and struggled against the Joker�s fingers as
they dug into her skin, momentarily forgetting she had a gun, yet he was too
strong; she found herself staring into his boring black eyes, the irises
glittering as violently as daggers lusting to penetrate her skin,
�But you haven�t even con-sid-ered the other side of
the coin, have you, beautiful?! How would it feel to put this�this��
He turned his head sharply for a millisecond to gesture
towards Maroni, who grew more and more panicked as the fire began to trail its
agonizingly slow, steady descent across the top of the other half of
disintegrating bills, coming closer and closer to his gasoline-soaked frame,
��sniveling little co-ward in his place?! Where he really
belongs, on the other end of your bullet, after he wronged you, just
like, ah�that little whore of an officer you killed the other night?�
Rachel bit back a vicious, almost animalistic growl at his
words of accusation,
�You set her on me like a dog, Joker, and you know
it!�
He chuckled, pulling her closer to him in one sharp
movement, so that her struggling back was pressed against his hard chest, his
scarred mouth brushing her ear,
�I only indulged you in what you wouldn�t readily take-kuh.
You�ve been dying to kill all these people, and you know the
feeling, just like I know it. �The feeling of having some power in your
life, some�control�some pure, unadulterated cha-os.�
As he spoke, he raised her arm, clasping the gun and her
hand in his hard, gloved fist. Rachel�s stomach flipped at the contact; she
wanted to say it was in disgust, repulsion, but the emotion wouldn�t properly
surface in her mind to be identified.� It was the delirium, messing with her
mind; the way he rasped in her ear like a serpent, tempting her to do what she
ached to do deep within her damaged soul�to kill again, to kill for vengeance.
�Think about it like this,� He offered, stroking the
gun�s tip with his fingers, the glove tracing across her skin in slow circles,
�Maroni can�t kill anymore if he�s already dead. He can�t hurt
you�why, look at him now!�
His voice exploded into a burst of giggles as he finished
his last words, turning towards Maroni again. The man looked small and
insignificant against the tower of flame behind him, his wide red eyes streaked
and glassy with tears as he watched the two of them in desperation. The Joker
turned back towards her, his red mouth set in a trembling line, as if barely
suppressing the laughter,
�He couldn�t even hurt a fly if he tried! Doesn�t
that excite you, to know that the man who hurt so many people can
never do it ag-ain? That you could just��
He brought the pistol to his forehead, making a popping
motion with his mouth,
�buh-low all the pain aw-ay? And you�ve done
it before, and now you know I�m not so crazy. Not when you were
on the other side, like me, twisting the rules a bit for your own pleasure.
For what the po-lice and the Bat won�t give you, and that�s real
justice�real power. And in Gotham�there�s no real power except for the
power you steal for yourself. The cha-os you create.�
As he spoke, he pulled her arm down, her fingers that could
have so easily just pulled the fucking trigger and made him shut up, stop
playing with my mind, and pulled his body behind hers, so close she could
feel every inch of his skin pressing against her back through his suit, the
bulge of his pants pushing uncomfortably close to her backside. It was as if it
excited him, manipulating her, to have the heat of the fire licking at their
bodies and know that destruction was coming so close, in one form or another.
He fed on this disorder, this pain, at the impending promise of blood to
come�it was his nourishment, stronger than food or water or sex.
The Joker leaned his face near hers, the scars brushing
against her cheek and sending a cold chill across her spine despite the searing
heat that penetrated the warehouse in waves. His voice was a low, scratchy
whisper,
�And I�m an agent of cha-os.�
He was a master ventriloquist, and she was nothing more to
him than a puppet.
Yet it didn�t destroy the fact that Maroni was right in
front of her, and the Joker was gripping her hands in a vice, pointing her
pistol straight at him. Her nerves leapt and soared in her jolting heart, and
again, again, she felt so fucking alive that it was a horrible,
disgusting thing to feel at the same time that she welcomed it. Fear rippled
across Maroni�s sweat-and-gasoline drowned face, such pure fear across the face
of the usual mocking killer that she found it hard to ignore the vicious,
carnal mirth that bubbled in laughter across her chest, which she subdued only
to have it return in searing adrenaline in her veins. This was primal thirst in
its barest of forms, an urge that she had kept carefully restrained in her
career, masking the human need for vengeance by complex jargon and amendments
and practices� until it had been twisted into something ineffective and
useless.
But as she held the gun towards Maroni�s pain-stricken face,
reducing the once almighty mob boss to a potential speck of dust beneath the
Earth, she felt the raw power in her body and fed upon it like a voracious God.
A part of her hated herself for it.
A part that seemed to have no control over her body.
�If you really want me to kill him��
Her voice was a strained whisper, yet he stiffened against
her, soullessly black eyes burning through her as they listened,
��Then take off his gag.�
At first, the Joker was reluctant to follow her request. She
felt a cold steel press against her delicate back, resolving that he had grown
frustrated with her noncompliance and was going to stab her right this moment.
Yet the steel only lingered there for a moment, as if yearningly, and then he
was skipping forward, a taunting grin upon his features as he flashed the knife
in the firelight, Maroni�s face as sunken and white as a wraith at the sight.
Wordlessly, the Joker slashed away Maroni�s gag, yet seemed
to have deliberately missed at his left side. Maroni�s bloodcurdling scream
filled the tense air as a deep, bloody gash spread across his cheek, down
towards the side of his neck.
�Oops!� The Joker chuckled, before twirling in place
with a long chain of cackles that momentarily drowned the stream of curses and
raging cries that burst from Maroni�s mouth.
Rachel�s grip shook for a moment, as her body urged her to
pull the gun upon the Joker instead�yet she waited, her hatred seething anew as
Maroni�s eyes flicked towards her own, the hostility behind them already
predicting the nature of his words,
�You. You stupid little fucking bitch! I shoulda
killed you with your little squeeze back then, shoulda made it so
you both died! You fucking D.A.�s don�t learn when one o� yous blows up,
thinkin� you can just tie me up like the little scared whore you are, ain�t got
no balls to fight me like a man, like your sonofabitch motherfucker Harvey
woulda��
�SHUT UP!�
In the short amount of time Maroni had been speaking, Rachel
had walked towards him, propelled by pure hatred, and now back-handed him
viciously across his bleeding cheek, the powerful blow snapping his entire head
to the side. Maroni howled with pain as the dribbling gasoline from his hair
soaked into the opened cut, traces of violet growing in a nasty bruise beneath
the splattered blood. The sight satisfied Rachel viciously, and she found it
hard to look away from his agonized face.
The Joker�s piercing laughter scorched the air like none of �the
flames could, as they began their slow descent across the sides of the money
pile, dipping towards Maroni�s still-struggling frame. He was behind her,
again, lightning-fast for her disoriented senses, trailing his bloodied blade
across her cheek, towards the back of her neck. He was raising her gun again
with her hands, yet she didn�t object, not when she was glaring at Maroni with
that hardened hatred balled up in her gut, when she was so preoccupied with
watching him squirm.
She heard the mob boss�s own laughter, now; weary, bitter
laughter, laughter imbued with the same hatred that coursed through every nerve
and vein and limb in her entire being. He was watching the gun in her hands
with a wariness that made his laughter desperate and forced, and as he spoke
again she seriously contemplated pulling the trigger if only to get him to shut
up,
�No, you ain�t gonna do it, ain�t ya, Miss D.A.?! I
take back what I said, yous just as ball-less as Harvey was, all talk and no
action, and look where he is now, huh��
The ringing shot of a bullet pierced the air, followed by horrific,
tortured screams. Rachel�s hands shook uncontrollably against the gloved
fingers that gripped them tightly, shaking with the laughter that rumbled
against the Joker�s chest as she realized what she had done. She had pulled the
trigger, yet angled it so that it had shot through Maroni�s foot. His feet were
wriggling madly like frenzied worms, his face as red as if the blood had
stained it completely, the mouth that had just only been cursing her opened in
an O of endless screams.
It was so sickeningly, maddeningly satisfying, to
hear an end to those curses. To hear him scream and cry just as Harvey had,
when the explosion had torn his body apart, when she had wanted to somehow
reach through that radio and save him.
The sharp coldness of a knife grazed her neck suddenly,
leaving a hot pool of Maroni�s blood along her bare skin. It slid in a slow
line down her back, beneath the fabric of her sweater,
�How does it feel?� The high-pitched voice hissed
against her ear, tongue flicking to almost lick across her earlobe, �How does
it feel to watch him squirm, to hear him scuh-ream?�
She was silent, chest heaving, fingers trembling beneath the
hand that still clung to her own, keeping them steady against her pistol. She
didn�t want to say it; didn�t want to acknowledge the sheer wanton ecstasy that
rocketed in the pit of her stomach, aching to burst free and possess her long
enough for her to pull the fucking trigger into Maroni�s gut.
The tempter behind her was impatient; his hips grazed
against her back as he thrust his blade against her throat, lips on the lobe of
her ear, as if planning to bite it off,
�Tell me. Tell me and kill him, and I�ll spare
you a lit-tle longer.�
She laughed, then. She couldn�t help it. It was a tiny
chuckle, bitter and drawn from the vestiges of her sanity,
�Stupid words to say when you know I don�t care about my
life.�
A grin. The bumps of the scars pressed against her cheek, as
if caressing her,
�Ah. Seems I�ve forgot-ten that part. I can barely
smell the fear on you, after all�but I can feel the
bloodlust, the violent urge. How many people would kill to be in
your po-si-tion, to have so much�con-trol over their lives. To
take it all back. It�s what you�ve wanted for so long, I can feel
it just lusting within you�so do it. Do it!�
The excitement tipped his voice sharper than the knife that
went to graze and bite into her thigh, sharper even than the twisted pain that
covered every inch of Maroni�s once composed features as he waited for the
movement of her still fingers on the trigger again. Everything was hanging in
the balance; everything was hanging on her shoulders, on the twitch of
her fingers. She could change everything. She could rid herself of this
man, she could make it up to all the lost lives beyond her reach in countless
failed cases, could make it up to their families�
You could make it up to yourself, won�t have to feel so
weak anymore�.for once in your life, you could have all the power you want.
Her body shuddered against the hiss of the man behind her,
against the scrape of metal against her thigh. She could feel him press so
close to her, his hot skin plastered to her against the sweat of the flames
that now coursed dangerously close to the bottoms of the money pile. Maroni had
noticed, his twisted screams echoing endlessly across the warehouse, and it
wouldn�t be long before someone heard those desperate sobs and cries, before
someone was curious and suicidal enough to investigate. She had to make her
choice, and she had to make it fast.
The fire was devouring the money with a surprising
quickness, now, gluttonous and relentless, reducing the paper into black,
curling clumps, a few stray flames spreading across the floor, inching closer
and closer toward Maroni with each passing second. His screams grew more intense,
more hopelessly desperate; No, he screamed, no, please, not this way,
not like this, no�
For an instant it was Harvey, tied within the chair, his
body flailing mercilessly against the ropes that bound him, his eyes
desperately clinging to the fleeting hope of survival that had drained away
within the last passing seconds of his life, a horrified cry caught in his
throat, on his lips, in Rachel�s panicked mind, and she just wanted to make it
stop, she just wanted to silence the screams, to make all of this stop�
Her eyes were closed as her fingers touched the trigger, as
the scarred smile spread against the back of her neck, a sob in her throat�
A cry from her own lips as her gun clattered to the floor,
blood trailing across the very tips of her fingers. The Joker�s grip was hard upon
her shoulders as she stared down at the object near her fallen pistol: a black
disc, shaped in the shape of a Bat.
As the realization struck her, so did a heavy black mass,
its entire weight bearing down straight upon her stunned body.
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