Team Knight, Round 1, fic
Title: I'm Not Crazy. I'm Not. (this is my best joke)
Prompt: “Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.” - Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene i)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Batman.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: child abuse
Word Count: 847
Summary: Earth 3 (Joker=Jokester=crimefighter, Batman=Owlman=Crime Lord; click here if you want to know more) Nolanized AU. Difference the first: even as a vigilante, the clown is still willing to kill. Occasionally--when it doesn't necessarily interfere with his tendencies of control--Owlman delights in this.
Beginning Notes: References to DCU's The Killing Joke as well.
If he were to really keep track of the days, he could tell most would see this as his 'rookie' stage--but still the new skin feels like it's always been around (as if it had only been waiting for the right push) and the Jokester is already a very busy man. Trailing mob bosses and everything, the whole shebang. Back in the Narrows (the Narrows is a very busy place too)--there's some smuggling operation somewhere, but he's much more interested in where that will lead him to, something frowning and with feathers all ruffled up, if he's lucky.
It's raining rather hard (so he wears a matching fedora) when he climbs a rotted building's ladder network, for a lovely view on the rooftop, can see the docks and their ships with naughty secrets quite well. It's pouring, yes, but the clown can hear shouting over the pounding drops from the next building over. He is busy after all, and tries to ignore it, but--well, it's just loud. His eyes stray down to the window below and opposite him; higher up a bit, no one from there can see him at all.
It's almost cliché, but it doesn't make his blood freeze and curdle any less, what's going on in that square of light--of course, it's cliché for a reason. Consciously, not unconsciously, he knows what he's doing, he always knows what he's doing, the clown does know something of accountability, responsibility, all that jazz--consciously (it is conscious, it is, he's not being impulsive, not at all) the knife slides down his sleeve and into his waiting glove. The shouting seems to be getting louder, but his mind could just being pressing down really hard on the volume button; his fingers tighten around the knife, and he raises it, and in one quick gesture--it's all in the wrist, actually--the blade embeds itself in the man's head, and he won't be hitting that kid anymore.
Of course, Jokester always lies--that was impulsive. The clown has absolutely no follow-up in mind for the girl and her dead-looking eyes going wide and growing more empty as she watches the body drop and the blood flow and oh listen to that useless mother scream.
That high up, no one can see him; it stays that way indefinitely when the clown slinks away. (He's conscious of that, at least.)
…
The clown keeps an eye on the kid. When her mother 'accidentally' takes too many pills (and can't even be useless anymore), he goes through the necessary motions, figuring out a way to anonymously start up an account for her at the bank. When he started it, he had a brilliant flash, a lightning thought that singed every fiber of his being as he actually returned to that account--transferred every cent to the kid's financial future. It isn't as if his own will be using it anytime soon (if she were--well. Hell. He wouldn't even be here, now would he?)
…
The Jokester is entirely on edge, and pin wheeling and taunting metaphorical gravity isn't much fun when he knows he can bring a complete stranger down with him: Owlman has of course brought up the kid (Big Brother is always watching).
"I won't do anything to young Miss Sterford. Just let me bask in what you did. Killed a man. Oh, I know it's nothing new to you, or even in the grand scheme of things--but really, you should consider taking it up full time. With less discrimination. Open mass slaughter for all. You'd enjoy it even more, I can just tell."
He is unusually verbose (always a bad sign).
The knife misses, just slicing a deep cut along his exposed jaw and tearing at some of the dark mask; Owlsy's fist is on target with his gut, and the clown can't even drive out a laugh with all the air suddenly playing hide-and-seek with him, though at least it's more spittle than blood that drips from his mouth.
"I think. That is, regarding the girl's fate. Like I said, I know you really would appreciate my side of things--but the orphan, well, it really all depends on whether I prefer keeping you waiting and panicking, or--"
A fist across that stupid perfect jaw shutting him up (even with Jokester, there's only so much noise he can take) and the dance continues on.
Until:
"Does she look like her?"
It must be the blood loss, because for once Jokester shoots him a confused look (he really has no idea where Owlsy's going with this).
"Your daughter. You remember her, don't you? You tell a million different scar stories," Owlman sounded just a little bit miffed, but the buzzing static in Jokester's ears was only growing louder and louder, Owlman's voice growing farther away, yet still undeniably there, "But surely, you remember her. Perfectly. A little death wouldn't make you forget. So, does she look like--"
The clown cackles--but only Owlman knows full well that it's a scream.
Ending Notes: So, TKJ ref. deals with unborn child being born and growing up a little--or you can choose to see the kid as his E3 canon daughter Duela, your choice really, just ignore the few sentences I have that, timeline-wise, advocate TKJ inspiration (I just have a thing for TKJ and little children? Sorry Duela ^^; )
Prompt: “Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.” - Measure for Measure (Act II, Scene i)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Batman.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: child abuse
Word Count: 847
Summary: Earth 3 (Joker=Jokester=crimefighter, Batman=Owlman=Crime Lord; click here if you want to know more) Nolanized AU. Difference the first: even as a vigilante, the clown is still willing to kill. Occasionally--when it doesn't necessarily interfere with his tendencies of control--Owlman delights in this.
Beginning Notes: References to DCU's The Killing Joke as well.
If he were to really keep track of the days, he could tell most would see this as his 'rookie' stage--but still the new skin feels like it's always been around (as if it had only been waiting for the right push) and the Jokester is already a very busy man. Trailing mob bosses and everything, the whole shebang. Back in the Narrows (the Narrows is a very busy place too)--there's some smuggling operation somewhere, but he's much more interested in where that will lead him to, something frowning and with feathers all ruffled up, if he's lucky.
It's raining rather hard (so he wears a matching fedora) when he climbs a rotted building's ladder network, for a lovely view on the rooftop, can see the docks and their ships with naughty secrets quite well. It's pouring, yes, but the clown can hear shouting over the pounding drops from the next building over. He is busy after all, and tries to ignore it, but--well, it's just loud. His eyes stray down to the window below and opposite him; higher up a bit, no one from there can see him at all.
It's almost cliché, but it doesn't make his blood freeze and curdle any less, what's going on in that square of light--of course, it's cliché for a reason. Consciously, not unconsciously, he knows what he's doing, he always knows what he's doing, the clown does know something of accountability, responsibility, all that jazz--consciously (it is conscious, it is, he's not being impulsive, not at all) the knife slides down his sleeve and into his waiting glove. The shouting seems to be getting louder, but his mind could just being pressing down really hard on the volume button; his fingers tighten around the knife, and he raises it, and in one quick gesture--it's all in the wrist, actually--the blade embeds itself in the man's head, and he won't be hitting that kid anymore.
Of course, Jokester always lies--that was impulsive. The clown has absolutely no follow-up in mind for the girl and her dead-looking eyes going wide and growing more empty as she watches the body drop and the blood flow and oh listen to that useless mother scream.
That high up, no one can see him; it stays that way indefinitely when the clown slinks away. (He's conscious of that, at least.)
…
The clown keeps an eye on the kid. When her mother 'accidentally' takes too many pills (and can't even be useless anymore), he goes through the necessary motions, figuring out a way to anonymously start up an account for her at the bank. When he started it, he had a brilliant flash, a lightning thought that singed every fiber of his being as he actually returned to that account--transferred every cent to the kid's financial future. It isn't as if his own will be using it anytime soon (if she were--well. Hell. He wouldn't even be here, now would he?)
…
The Jokester is entirely on edge, and pin wheeling and taunting metaphorical gravity isn't much fun when he knows he can bring a complete stranger down with him: Owlman has of course brought up the kid (Big Brother is always watching).
"I won't do anything to young Miss Sterford. Just let me bask in what you did. Killed a man. Oh, I know it's nothing new to you, or even in the grand scheme of things--but really, you should consider taking it up full time. With less discrimination. Open mass slaughter for all. You'd enjoy it even more, I can just tell."
He is unusually verbose (always a bad sign).
The knife misses, just slicing a deep cut along his exposed jaw and tearing at some of the dark mask; Owlsy's fist is on target with his gut, and the clown can't even drive out a laugh with all the air suddenly playing hide-and-seek with him, though at least it's more spittle than blood that drips from his mouth.
"I think. That is, regarding the girl's fate. Like I said, I know you really would appreciate my side of things--but the orphan, well, it really all depends on whether I prefer keeping you waiting and panicking, or--"
A fist across that stupid perfect jaw shutting him up (even with Jokester, there's only so much noise he can take) and the dance continues on.
Until:
"Does she look like her?"
It must be the blood loss, because for once Jokester shoots him a confused look (he really has no idea where Owlsy's going with this).
"Your daughter. You remember her, don't you? You tell a million different scar stories," Owlman sounded just a little bit miffed, but the buzzing static in Jokester's ears was only growing louder and louder, Owlman's voice growing farther away, yet still undeniably there, "But surely, you remember her. Perfectly. A little death wouldn't make you forget. So, does she look like--"
The clown cackles--but only Owlman knows full well that it's a scream.
Ending Notes: So, TKJ ref. deals with unborn child being born and growing up a little--or you can choose to see the kid as his E3 canon daughter Duela, your choice really, just ignore the few sentences I have that, timeline-wise, advocate TKJ inspiration (I just have a thing for TKJ and little children? Sorry Duela ^^; )