Fic: You're Gonna Go Far, Kid Ch. 1/3
Title: You're Gonna Go Far, Kid
Chapter 1/3: The Lightning in Your Eyes
Word Count: 2,324
Pairings: none
Disclaimer: I don't own TDK or its characters, just this weird, twisted, AU, time-traveling, cracked-up plot.
Rating: PG
Warnings: a bit of gore, language, lots of strange unexplained time-travel
Summary: Joker picks up an eight-year-old kid named Bruce as his protégée, and Batman makes a deal with six-year-old Jack to train him by his side. AU
A/N: This was inspired by the song "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring. And it's got to be one of the strangest things I've ever written - but also the most fun I've ever had writing a story. There's three chapters to this one, so stay tuned for the next two. :)
Joker sauntered down the echoing stillness of the cavernous subway track, humming with pleasure and twirling his shiny new revolver around in his right hand. Tonight couldn't have gone more perfect. The train had hit the detonator at just the right second, blowing the machinery and passengers to smithereens in a plume of orange flame and black smoke - one of his favorite sights. But that was just the half of it, and the other half was now being performed by his team of henchmen around him, as they threw the desecrated body parts and hunks of bloodied metal throughout the course of the tunnel, a lovely surprise to the next morning's commuters. As the servants carried out their orders, their lord waltzed through the mayhem, the king surveying his kingdom of chaos.
Of course, he couldn't let his slaves have all the fun, and that was where his revolver came in handy, ready to shoot at any lost soul unfortunate enough to stumble upon their handiwork. Or at an underling who didn't work fast enough. Or at anything else that caught the madman's attention.
And suddenly, something did catch his attention: a flicker of movement behind one of the benches on the train platform. Without bothering to take aim, the Joker shot off his weapon in the dark, eyes lighting up as the familiar sound of gunfire pealed through the air. He hadn't hit anything, but he hadn't really been trying to; shooting guns was just fun in itself, why did he even need a reason? Just for the hell of it, he fired a few more rounds into the air, yielding nothing but echoing shockwaves. It had probably just been a sewer rat anyway.
Then, his eyes shot back into focus as a very un-rat-like figure darted from behind the bench and streaked towards the exit. Smiling in anticipation of the chase, he clambered up out of the subway track onto the platform and bolted after him, firing madly in the direction of the figure. The sound of pounding footfalls ahead of him drew closer and closer as he gained on his prey, and he could almost make out the shadowy form in the darkness, as he rounded the corner, raised the revolver, and -
- it was gone.
Joker blinked in the pitch blackness, scrutinizing every possible manner the figure could have escaped or exited. But after careful observation, there remained no explanation: the person had simply vanished into thin air. Curious, Joker advanced into the darkness, but before he could take a step, a wild yell erupted in the air above him, and the source of the cry plummeted down on top of him, knocking him to the floor. Growling and struggling, Joker tried to pry the small form off of him, but the person - or kid, rather - refused to let go or let themselves get in the way of the gun trying to end their life. Joker rolled around on the floor, attempting to squish the kid enough to force him to release him, while trying to maneuver his revolver arm free of the child's death grip. Then he was taken completely by surprise as the boy clamped his jaws around his forearm, drawing blood and a cry of pain from the deranged clown.
Now officially pissed off with this pest of a kid, Joker dug his elbow into his attacker's ribs, knocking the wind out of him, but not before the creaking groan of the approaching subway train rattled through the station. They froze as the train hurtled past them, inches from their bodies. In all the confusion of the scuffle, neither one had realized just how close they had gotten to the platform's edge; one more roll would have had the train barreling over them along with the rest of Joker's goons. The men now lay in a ribbon of blood and guts on the tracks, making it impossible to distinguish the clownmen from their victims, as their remains lay intermixed in the dark, forgotten by all.
Joker smirked at the bittersweet irony of the situation, then returned to his pissed-off state as he remembered the kid, who had now released him in his shock of nearly getting flattened, and was crouched back a foot away from his adversary, ready to fight. Caught a little off-balance by how fiercely the boy was acting, Joker narrowed his eyes with a sudden grin, an idea forming in his mind. Now that the stupid brat had spoiled his grandiose plans for the evening, he had nothing better to do; why not play a game with him?
With that thought, his face split into an all-out lazy smile. His body relaxed, and the revolver was flicked carelessly to the side. He lounged back, eyeing the tense kid before him with a knowing grin.
"Well, now it's just you and me, isn't it?"
"Take off the rest of your weapons," the kid blurted out, still on edge from his near-death experience. "If you're gonna kill me, it's gonna be a fair fight."
"Well," Joker began, his lips twitching with his entertainment at the kid's uneasiness, "in case you haven't noticed, I'm, ah, not really one for playing fair. So…if you'll excu-"
His hand shot out to grab the revolver, but the boy was faster, and in a split second he had the silver glinting blade of a knife slapped against his opponent's wrist, drawing a thin line of crimson. Joker's eyes started with recognition: the knife was his OWN!
"You stole one of my knives?" he intoned, his low whisper dripping with lethalness. No one laid hands on his precious knives and lived more than five seconds afterward. And especially, no one used them against him.
"People like you never carry just one weapon," the boy shot back smugly, knowing he had touched a nerve.
The sly grin microscopically returned to the clown's face, tingeing his expression with the force of death that lurked within his soul. "There aren't very many people like…me," he said quietly. A thousand threats poured from his tone of voice, and the boy knew it.
"Well, from the way you're acting, I can tell there aren't many people like me, either," the kid retorted, glittering at the fact that he was infuriating the man to no end. Joker was perplexed at his behavior. Here was a little bastard of a child - yes, a child - who was matching wits with the most horrifyingly clever terrorist in Gotham. Yet, instead of cowering away and begging for mommy, the fierce light in his eyes just burned brighter, shining with astute cunning and malice. There was only one other person whose very spirit had dared to defy him this openly, and the similarities between the two people were starting to aggravate the Joker more and more.
"You know what your problem is, kid?" he asked, unable to take the child's obnoxious glare any longer. "You've got too much spunk, and not enough sense." Sure, he could sure fight smart and even downright dirty, but it took a sufficient mixture of courage and stupidity to take on the Joker.
"Well, you've got too much makeup and not enough breath mints," the boy countered smoothly.
Okay, he was asking for it. The thousands of ways he could torture his kid as he screamed his final breath flashed through the Joker's mind, then he realized…the kid had just made a joke. And that was something that Joker could legitimately respect. His mouth curled into a snicker, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Touché," he said, conceding defeat. And with that, a sudden wild idea took hold of his mind. "Say…" he started, "I'm kinda…low on henchmen at the moment," he pointed out, gesturing to the bloodied mess to their left, "so…how's a pipsqueak like you want to join my team? Full benefits," he added with a smirk.
"You mean getting knifed and shot at in my sleep?" the boy asked sarcastically.
"Well, since you appear to have enough free time on your hands to hang out in abandoned subway stations and duel to the death with freaks like me, what else would you spend your time doing?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," the kid taunted. Sighing deeply in renewed frustration at the two-faced sonofabitch, Joker stood up to leave, thinking of how exactly he'd pull off his next scheme with his sudden position of being short of staff, when the kid's voice quietly reverberated around him with his next word.
"Sure."
Joker turned back to the little brunette boy with the fiery eyes. Oh yes, this kid may come in handy. "You gotta name, kid?"
The boy smiled, a reflection of his newfound mentor's wicked grin. "Bruce," he replied. "My name's Bruce."
xxx
Batman tore through the night air in pursuit of the robber below him. Most small-time criminals had learned by now to surrender when the night creature came around, or else risk a beating. But this one had made a run for it, and was quite foolish to do so, as he slowed and panted for breath while his tireless pursuer hovered above him, ready to pounce.
And pounce he did. But this one was a tough cookie to break, and as luck would have it a well-aimed kick to the ribs winded the dark knight, and the lowlife sprang to his feet and sprinted away.
Recovering quickly, Batman leapt after him, giving chase down the filth-ridden alleyway. Suddenly, a small skinny leg darted out of nowhere, tripping up the robber and sending him face first into a pile of garbage. Batman quickly apprehended him and left him handcuffed on the street corner for Gordon to find. His work finished, he took off down the alley, but not before a voice called out behind him.
"Hey, wait up!" the voice yelled. It was a surprisingly young voice, which startled Batman, and he turned to face the skinny, grimy, blond six-year-old boy running towards him. "Hey, I just helped you out back there! Don't I get a reward?" For a six-year-old, he certainly meant business.
Batman sighed inwardly. Plucky kid just wanted a thank-you. "Thanks, kid," he replied shortly, and made for the end of the alleyway to disappear into the shadows.
The kid, however, had other plans. "I can help you!" he cried to the retreating figure of the Batman, who stopped again. Great. Another wannabe sidekick. Not that he didn't admire some people's courage and spirit, but couldn't they see that he had enough on his plate without worrying about keeping tabs on a partner?
"You've helped enough. Go on home," he urged, hoping the kid would obey.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. "Don't have a home to go to," the kid announced. "See, I won't be any trouble for you that way. I can do this full-time! Besides, I can help yo-"
"Look kid, I don't need help," Batman interrupted with all the sternness of a parent disciplining a misbehaving child. He walked faster through the alleyway away from the kid, when all of a sudden the words blasted through his ears.
"I know where the Joker's hideout is."
Batman stopped. No, he thought, this kid couldn't…not after all the months he'd spent trying to find it to no avail…but yet, he found himself turning to face the kid who now stood directly in front of him, piercing him with the brightest burning eyes he had ever been met with. In fact, the only person whose gaze had ever had that sort of effect on him was the aforementioned neighborhood lunatic. The association between the criminal mastermind and the defiant little squirt facing him now disconcerted Batman considerably, though he tried not to show it.
"…what did you say?" he asked, not sure if he could really trust the kid's word.
"I know where he is. All his bombs, all his plans, all his goons," the boy answered, his eyes glowing brighter with every word. "And what's more, I'll take you to him, in return for one little thing." He held up his pointer finger as he said this, brimming with delight.
Batman considered. It may not be the wisest plan of action to rely on a random kid off the street to locate the most wanted man in Gotham, but the manner in which the boy spoke…he seemed so…sure. So completely confident that he knew what he was saying was true. Out of curiosity, he posed the question. "What little thing, exactly?"
At that the blonde's eyes positively sparkled with joy. "Train me to be like you. Let me be your partner. Do that, and the Joker is all yours."
Batman was about to open his mouth in response when a group of five men jumped him from behind. Apparently, the robber he had just captured had buddies. Buddies that weren't too happy with the Batman pummeling their friend to a pulp. Quickly adjusting into his fighting instincts, he threw two men off of him and aimed a punch at a third, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold. The two he had thrown were then dealt with quickly with a sweeping kick.
Whirling around, the fourth and fifth members of the entourage had seemed to have vanished, until he saw them hanging upside-down from the third-story window ledge of the building next to him, gagged and bound with strong ropes. Standing beneath them, the proud grin on his face surpassing that of a victorious soccer mom, was the kid, the leftover rope resting in his hand.
Batman made his way over to the kid, staring in awe at the two trussed full-grown men who had been overpowered by a child. He turned to said child, and asked, "So, what did you say your name was?"
Knowing a victory when he saw one, the blonde triumphantly met his newfound mentor's gaze. "Jack," he answered. "Call me Jack."
Chapter 1/3: The Lightning in Your Eyes
Word Count: 2,324
Pairings: none
Disclaimer: I don't own TDK or its characters, just this weird, twisted, AU, time-traveling, cracked-up plot.
Rating: PG
Warnings: a bit of gore, language, lots of strange unexplained time-travel
Summary: Joker picks up an eight-year-old kid named Bruce as his protégée, and Batman makes a deal with six-year-old Jack to train him by his side. AU
A/N: This was inspired by the song "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring. And it's got to be one of the strangest things I've ever written - but also the most fun I've ever had writing a story. There's three chapters to this one, so stay tuned for the next two. :)
Joker sauntered down the echoing stillness of the cavernous subway track, humming with pleasure and twirling his shiny new revolver around in his right hand. Tonight couldn't have gone more perfect. The train had hit the detonator at just the right second, blowing the machinery and passengers to smithereens in a plume of orange flame and black smoke - one of his favorite sights. But that was just the half of it, and the other half was now being performed by his team of henchmen around him, as they threw the desecrated body parts and hunks of bloodied metal throughout the course of the tunnel, a lovely surprise to the next morning's commuters. As the servants carried out their orders, their lord waltzed through the mayhem, the king surveying his kingdom of chaos.
Of course, he couldn't let his slaves have all the fun, and that was where his revolver came in handy, ready to shoot at any lost soul unfortunate enough to stumble upon their handiwork. Or at an underling who didn't work fast enough. Or at anything else that caught the madman's attention.
And suddenly, something did catch his attention: a flicker of movement behind one of the benches on the train platform. Without bothering to take aim, the Joker shot off his weapon in the dark, eyes lighting up as the familiar sound of gunfire pealed through the air. He hadn't hit anything, but he hadn't really been trying to; shooting guns was just fun in itself, why did he even need a reason? Just for the hell of it, he fired a few more rounds into the air, yielding nothing but echoing shockwaves. It had probably just been a sewer rat anyway.
Then, his eyes shot back into focus as a very un-rat-like figure darted from behind the bench and streaked towards the exit. Smiling in anticipation of the chase, he clambered up out of the subway track onto the platform and bolted after him, firing madly in the direction of the figure. The sound of pounding footfalls ahead of him drew closer and closer as he gained on his prey, and he could almost make out the shadowy form in the darkness, as he rounded the corner, raised the revolver, and -
- it was gone.
Joker blinked in the pitch blackness, scrutinizing every possible manner the figure could have escaped or exited. But after careful observation, there remained no explanation: the person had simply vanished into thin air. Curious, Joker advanced into the darkness, but before he could take a step, a wild yell erupted in the air above him, and the source of the cry plummeted down on top of him, knocking him to the floor. Growling and struggling, Joker tried to pry the small form off of him, but the person - or kid, rather - refused to let go or let themselves get in the way of the gun trying to end their life. Joker rolled around on the floor, attempting to squish the kid enough to force him to release him, while trying to maneuver his revolver arm free of the child's death grip. Then he was taken completely by surprise as the boy clamped his jaws around his forearm, drawing blood and a cry of pain from the deranged clown.
Now officially pissed off with this pest of a kid, Joker dug his elbow into his attacker's ribs, knocking the wind out of him, but not before the creaking groan of the approaching subway train rattled through the station. They froze as the train hurtled past them, inches from their bodies. In all the confusion of the scuffle, neither one had realized just how close they had gotten to the platform's edge; one more roll would have had the train barreling over them along with the rest of Joker's goons. The men now lay in a ribbon of blood and guts on the tracks, making it impossible to distinguish the clownmen from their victims, as their remains lay intermixed in the dark, forgotten by all.
Joker smirked at the bittersweet irony of the situation, then returned to his pissed-off state as he remembered the kid, who had now released him in his shock of nearly getting flattened, and was crouched back a foot away from his adversary, ready to fight. Caught a little off-balance by how fiercely the boy was acting, Joker narrowed his eyes with a sudden grin, an idea forming in his mind. Now that the stupid brat had spoiled his grandiose plans for the evening, he had nothing better to do; why not play a game with him?
With that thought, his face split into an all-out lazy smile. His body relaxed, and the revolver was flicked carelessly to the side. He lounged back, eyeing the tense kid before him with a knowing grin.
"Well, now it's just you and me, isn't it?"
"Take off the rest of your weapons," the kid blurted out, still on edge from his near-death experience. "If you're gonna kill me, it's gonna be a fair fight."
"Well," Joker began, his lips twitching with his entertainment at the kid's uneasiness, "in case you haven't noticed, I'm, ah, not really one for playing fair. So…if you'll excu-"
His hand shot out to grab the revolver, but the boy was faster, and in a split second he had the silver glinting blade of a knife slapped against his opponent's wrist, drawing a thin line of crimson. Joker's eyes started with recognition: the knife was his OWN!
"You stole one of my knives?" he intoned, his low whisper dripping with lethalness. No one laid hands on his precious knives and lived more than five seconds afterward. And especially, no one used them against him.
"People like you never carry just one weapon," the boy shot back smugly, knowing he had touched a nerve.
The sly grin microscopically returned to the clown's face, tingeing his expression with the force of death that lurked within his soul. "There aren't very many people like…me," he said quietly. A thousand threats poured from his tone of voice, and the boy knew it.
"Well, from the way you're acting, I can tell there aren't many people like me, either," the kid retorted, glittering at the fact that he was infuriating the man to no end. Joker was perplexed at his behavior. Here was a little bastard of a child - yes, a child - who was matching wits with the most horrifyingly clever terrorist in Gotham. Yet, instead of cowering away and begging for mommy, the fierce light in his eyes just burned brighter, shining with astute cunning and malice. There was only one other person whose very spirit had dared to defy him this openly, and the similarities between the two people were starting to aggravate the Joker more and more.
"You know what your problem is, kid?" he asked, unable to take the child's obnoxious glare any longer. "You've got too much spunk, and not enough sense." Sure, he could sure fight smart and even downright dirty, but it took a sufficient mixture of courage and stupidity to take on the Joker.
"Well, you've got too much makeup and not enough breath mints," the boy countered smoothly.
Okay, he was asking for it. The thousands of ways he could torture his kid as he screamed his final breath flashed through the Joker's mind, then he realized…the kid had just made a joke. And that was something that Joker could legitimately respect. His mouth curled into a snicker, eyes crinkling with amusement. "Touché," he said, conceding defeat. And with that, a sudden wild idea took hold of his mind. "Say…" he started, "I'm kinda…low on henchmen at the moment," he pointed out, gesturing to the bloodied mess to their left, "so…how's a pipsqueak like you want to join my team? Full benefits," he added with a smirk.
"You mean getting knifed and shot at in my sleep?" the boy asked sarcastically.
"Well, since you appear to have enough free time on your hands to hang out in abandoned subway stations and duel to the death with freaks like me, what else would you spend your time doing?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," the kid taunted. Sighing deeply in renewed frustration at the two-faced sonofabitch, Joker stood up to leave, thinking of how exactly he'd pull off his next scheme with his sudden position of being short of staff, when the kid's voice quietly reverberated around him with his next word.
"Sure."
Joker turned back to the little brunette boy with the fiery eyes. Oh yes, this kid may come in handy. "You gotta name, kid?"
The boy smiled, a reflection of his newfound mentor's wicked grin. "Bruce," he replied. "My name's Bruce."
xxx
Batman tore through the night air in pursuit of the robber below him. Most small-time criminals had learned by now to surrender when the night creature came around, or else risk a beating. But this one had made a run for it, and was quite foolish to do so, as he slowed and panted for breath while his tireless pursuer hovered above him, ready to pounce.
And pounce he did. But this one was a tough cookie to break, and as luck would have it a well-aimed kick to the ribs winded the dark knight, and the lowlife sprang to his feet and sprinted away.
Recovering quickly, Batman leapt after him, giving chase down the filth-ridden alleyway. Suddenly, a small skinny leg darted out of nowhere, tripping up the robber and sending him face first into a pile of garbage. Batman quickly apprehended him and left him handcuffed on the street corner for Gordon to find. His work finished, he took off down the alley, but not before a voice called out behind him.
"Hey, wait up!" the voice yelled. It was a surprisingly young voice, which startled Batman, and he turned to face the skinny, grimy, blond six-year-old boy running towards him. "Hey, I just helped you out back there! Don't I get a reward?" For a six-year-old, he certainly meant business.
Batman sighed inwardly. Plucky kid just wanted a thank-you. "Thanks, kid," he replied shortly, and made for the end of the alleyway to disappear into the shadows.
The kid, however, had other plans. "I can help you!" he cried to the retreating figure of the Batman, who stopped again. Great. Another wannabe sidekick. Not that he didn't admire some people's courage and spirit, but couldn't they see that he had enough on his plate without worrying about keeping tabs on a partner?
"You've helped enough. Go on home," he urged, hoping the kid would obey.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. "Don't have a home to go to," the kid announced. "See, I won't be any trouble for you that way. I can do this full-time! Besides, I can help yo-"
"Look kid, I don't need help," Batman interrupted with all the sternness of a parent disciplining a misbehaving child. He walked faster through the alleyway away from the kid, when all of a sudden the words blasted through his ears.
"I know where the Joker's hideout is."
Batman stopped. No, he thought, this kid couldn't…not after all the months he'd spent trying to find it to no avail…but yet, he found himself turning to face the kid who now stood directly in front of him, piercing him with the brightest burning eyes he had ever been met with. In fact, the only person whose gaze had ever had that sort of effect on him was the aforementioned neighborhood lunatic. The association between the criminal mastermind and the defiant little squirt facing him now disconcerted Batman considerably, though he tried not to show it.
"…what did you say?" he asked, not sure if he could really trust the kid's word.
"I know where he is. All his bombs, all his plans, all his goons," the boy answered, his eyes glowing brighter with every word. "And what's more, I'll take you to him, in return for one little thing." He held up his pointer finger as he said this, brimming with delight.
Batman considered. It may not be the wisest plan of action to rely on a random kid off the street to locate the most wanted man in Gotham, but the manner in which the boy spoke…he seemed so…sure. So completely confident that he knew what he was saying was true. Out of curiosity, he posed the question. "What little thing, exactly?"
At that the blonde's eyes positively sparkled with joy. "Train me to be like you. Let me be your partner. Do that, and the Joker is all yours."
Batman was about to open his mouth in response when a group of five men jumped him from behind. Apparently, the robber he had just captured had buddies. Buddies that weren't too happy with the Batman pummeling their friend to a pulp. Quickly adjusting into his fighting instincts, he threw two men off of him and aimed a punch at a third, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold. The two he had thrown were then dealt with quickly with a sweeping kick.
Whirling around, the fourth and fifth members of the entourage had seemed to have vanished, until he saw them hanging upside-down from the third-story window ledge of the building next to him, gagged and bound with strong ropes. Standing beneath them, the proud grin on his face surpassing that of a victorious soccer mom, was the kid, the leftover rope resting in his hand.
Batman made his way over to the kid, staring in awe at the two trussed full-grown men who had been overpowered by a child. He turned to said child, and asked, "So, what did you say your name was?"
Knowing a victory when he saw one, the blonde triumphantly met his newfound mentor's gaze. "Jack," he answered. "Call me Jack."