Part 1; Apparently it's too big to be just one chapter
Title: A Bitter Pill to Swallow (Pt 1)
Authors: KL & Rachel
Summary: When the Joker discovers he failed in killing Rachel Dawes, he engages her in a battle of wits that forces her to see herself in her true form.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue
~~This is actually the "written form" of my graphic novel/fan comic, so it's got a bit of spoilers :3 ~~
Despite the fact that the Joker despised clubs, he had decided upon meeting a patron there to discuss a new "business" transaction. Almost feeling naked without his make-up, he ran a black-gloved hand across his scars as he observed the clientele. There were far too many dim-witted, obnoxious people grinding against one another for his liking, but he wasn't surprised to see such primitive, mindless simpletons partaking in equally primitive, mindless activities. Rolling his eyes when a particularly buxom blonde fell into his person, he shrugged off her squeaky apology and made a beeline for the bar.
Sitting down on one of the rickety old bar stools, a sudden child-like urge to spin on his seat came to mind, but he quickly shrugged it off when the bartender addressed him with a toothy grin. "What'll it be, kid?"
The Joker smirked at that. The old man didn't know the half of it, considering how Gotham was his playground, and each of his delightful weapons his toys. With a click of his tongue, he shrugged and uttered lowly, "A scotch for now -- come back later when I want something stronger."
When the bartender nodded and went off to get the drink, the Joker's eyes lazily strayed toward the woman two seats down from him. She was wearing a slinky red dress, his gaze traveling down her slender legs to observe the equally red pumps. When he directed his gaze back up toward her half-hidden face, however, he immediately paled. An inexplicable burst of fury alighted his otherwise indifferent gaze, his fists clenching when he realized that it was none other than Rachel Dawes, Former ADA Extraordinaire. But then, it couldn't be... How could she have escaped the blast?
'No matter' he thought, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. 'I'll settle this once and for all.'
With a grin that would make even a prostitute blush, the Joker carefully made his way over toward Rachel before having a seat beside her, his arm purposely brushing against hers to ensure as much discomfort on her part as possible. "Hello, there" he cooed.
How on Earth did Rachel allow Bruce to talk her into this? Whichever method he had used, Bruce managed to take Rachel out for lunch, which she had not done since Harvey had passed. She hadn’t been out in months after her ‘accident’, and she was beginning to look quite pale. She’d lost a significant amount of weight because food no longer seemed appealing to her, and a great deal of this was because she missed Harvey. She had been so ready to get married to him - to spend her entire life by his side. Bruce must have taken note of her sudden withdrawal from life, and decided to pull from the darkness and back into the light. Rachel was still unsure of how she felt about that.
The District Attorney (did she even have a job any more?) shifted uncomfortably in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She tugged nervously on her hat, trying to get it to cover the majority of her face. It seemed to be working, because no one seemed to have taken note of her presence. But then, as if on cue, a stranger sat down next to her, his arm brushing up against hers. She immediately straightened her shoulders, biting the inside of her cheek as paranoia once again overwhelmed her senses.
His voice caused goose bumps to form on her bare arms and legs, and she glanced to the side at him, first without turning her face. His silhouette didn’t appear familiar at all, but his voice did. Fearing he may grow aggressive if she did not acknowledge his presence, Rachel turned her body to face him, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“Hello” she replied simply. She flashed him a glimpse of a smile and then turned away, placing her hands onto the counter and reaching for her glass (which was empty). Rachel glanced at it sadly and twisted her finger around the rim, pausing for a moment as she felt almost as if she were caught in a moment of déjà-vu. Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought, as if she were analyzing the man before her.
At first, the DA was not phased by the appearance of this total stranger. In fact, she was rather elated that anyone wished to speak with her at all. Perhaps he was under the impression that she was one of the prostitutes from the west side of the city; the women who desperately sold their bodies either for personal gain or as an act of rebellion against their abusive husbands. She wouldn’t be surprised if he thought she was one of them at all, but either way, this was not the case for Rachel Dawes and she hoped the stranger would realize this sooner or later. She looked up at the bartender as he approached her with a refill of what she had previously been sipping. She thanked him with a nod of her head, removing the novelty straw from her now-empty glass and placing it inside the new one.
The Joker sneered at Rachel’s rather clipped response, her closed-in demeanor like a breath of fresh air as he eagerly leaned in closer. “I’m just checking in on an old friend, gum drop, and to see if Battycakes is treating you right. Do I need to go give him a lesson in manners?” Chuckling, he briefly debated on stroking her arm again to send her defense mechanism into action, but he decided against it since he wanted to see how things would naturally play out.
The man had begun speaking again and, just as before, Rachel’s movements halted and shivers coursed up and down her spine. When he mentioned he was ‘checking in on an old friend’, she spared him a surprised glance, clearly curious as to who he could mean. She thought that he had even referred to Batman at some point. She had never met this man before in her life, and it appeared as though he had confused her with someone else. Politely, she turned to face him and took a shallow breath to say, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve-” She stopped when she took a longer glance at him. His eyes held a malicious glint in their depths; one that was even more familiar than his voice. Suddenly doubting that this was really (could it be?) him, she trailed her eyes over his cheekbones and to the corners of his mouth. If the scars were present, it would confirm her suspicion. And then what? Would she run? As if her worst fears were presented before her eyes, there they were. They were less visible without the face make-up to make them stand out, but they were most assuredly there.
No, it couldn’t be...
Rachel sat, silently gaping at the man that she now recognized as her captor and the man who had turned Gotham against itself in a matter of days. She jumped up, spilling her drink across the counter. She took a few steps back, closing her gaping mouth. She didn’t know whether to run, to pull out her cell phone and call Commissioner Gordon, or to shout out to the bartender that a terrorist was inside his establishment. Either way, all logic escaped her, and she was left standing and cowering in front of a man who appeared innocent before the unsuspecting eyes of the patrons.
His eyes advanced on her, even if his body wasn't. Adrenaline and paranoia coursed through her veins as the Assistant DA stepped back even further, her escape route closer with each shaking step. The Joker raised himself from the barstool and Rachel's heartbeat accelerated to an immeasurable rate. She moved to turn her body and run (which, she supposed, was human instinct), but this plan was futile. The Joker was faster than she had anticipated, and he seized her roughly by her arms, keeping her from her escape, from salvation, and from freedom. She wanted to scream, but only managed to choke out a tiny squeak of discontent. Her lips were pressed together with such force that she began to hurt herself. She knew that she had no choice but to listen to him, for if she caused a scene, she was certain that the Joker would not hesitate to kill all the witnesses in the room.
Keeping his hold securely around her limbs, the Joker brushed his scarred lips against her ear as he lowly urged “Now you’re going to be a good little bunny, and you’re going to walk out to your car, get in, and act as if nothing’s happened here, alriiiight? I just want to have a little…chat for old time’s sake. If you don’t comply, I might have to play carve the pumpkin with you face.” Digging a knife into her side as further testament to his threat, he chuckled when he felt her stiffen and reveled in her glorious vulnerability.
Rachel was so tense that her limbs burned from exhaustion. Her jaw trembling almost imperceptibly, the lawyer nodded once, all the while refusing to look into his eyes or even speak to him. The scene was oddly familiar to her, and yet why shouldn't it have been? The man had an affinity for knives, so she shouldn’t have been shocked to find him threatening her with one yet again…for ‘old time’s sake’, as he’d said.
It didn’t take long for the Joker to force Rachel into the passenger side of the car, but as he crawled into the driver’s seat, he gave a pleased little whoop and began fiddling with all the buttons after turning it on. “Nice ride, sweet cheeks! If I’d have known that this is the kind of things lawyers drive, I would’ve become one years ago! Uhh…right after I became an official candy taster, of course.” Sparing her a glance, he grinned while asking “What, so you’re not a talker, eh? That’s alright, I’ll do all the yakking, so you just listen.”
Rachel merely huffed in response, her gaze directing out the window as he shifted the car into ‘drive’ and began easing down the street. She was highly annoyed, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see his effect on her.
Deciding to up the ante, the Joker kept his gaze on the road ahead as he slyly asked “I’ve always had a question for you, Miss Former ADA: why is it Harvey even ‘needed’ you to begin with, hmm? I mean, uh…he seemed so insistent upon having you at his side during his whole DA spiel, but why do you think that is, hmm? ‘Cause I’ll tell you one thing, it’s not because you’re intelligent. Hell, you’re so-called ‘intelligence’ nearly got you killed, so here’s the kicker, m’dear: Harrrvey only had you on his campaign because you’re a woman, and women help get the minority vote. It’s nothing personal, sugar pie…just politics! How’s that settle with you, hmm? To know that you were nothing but a mere pawn in Harvey-kins’ little party platform?”
Rachel chose to say nothing, but her eyes stung amidst her rage as she clenched her teeth and squeezed her fists.
The Joker was highly amused by Rachel's attempts at stifling her true emotions, but when she failed to give him any sort of verbal response, he found himself becoming rather irritated. If he wanted to talk to himself, he would've just gone ahead and kidnapped a brick wall. Sparing the DA a calculating glance, the clown prince chewed on his lower lip in disgust when he realized that Rachel was concentrating on whatever it was they were passing. With her face so stubbornly turned in the opposite direction, he couldn't even analyze her emotions, and it highly annoyed him. If there was anything the Joker loved, it was discovering what made people behave the way they do, and if Rachel wouldn't even look at him, how was he supposed to know how his speech was affecting her?
After the Joker finished his inner assessment, he finally felt himself being held in place by Rachel's red-hot gaze. Her eyes were like two fiery sapphires, and despite the fact that she seemed hell-bent on strangling him with his own tie, he found a certain beauty in the bloodlust in her eyes. He'd always admired the look in human eyes when faced with anger, fear, or the desire to maim, and Rachel's current gaze was no different. She was just as much of a monster as he was, and it highly amused him. "You should see your face right now" the Joker purred, his lips curling back into a devilish sneer. "You look like a beast hell-bent on survival, and you know what? The same coarse, animalistic blood runs through my very veins, so no matter how much you want to deny it, we're not so different from one another."
Before the Joker could continue his spiel, however, the car suddenly crawled to a halt as Rachel desperately reached for the door handle. Cat-like in his reflexes, the clown prince effortlessly seized her by the elbow and yanked her firmly back against him, his lips at her ear as he chided, "Ah, ah, ahhh, is that any way to treat an old friend, my dear little DA? All I want to do is talk, and once we're through, I'll let you go." Now petting her hair as if she were a beloved pet, he smirked when she stiffened beneath his touch and fought to get away. "Ooh-hoo-hoo, still as feisty as ever, I see! I just love a good struggle...keep it up, beautiful, and you'll be eating lead faster than you can say Battycakes." Within moments, the Joker pressed his revolver against her flank as further testament to the fact, his lips now brushing against her cheek as he urged, "Get back in your seat, buckle your safety belt, and behave like the upstanding little citizen you're supposed to be. And if you're a really good girl, I might let you go early."
Rachel hated being compared to him. They were nothing alike. She was a woman who stood up for what was right and just, while he was a merciless killer who seemed bent on proving to everyone that Gotham would destroy itself. The Joker was not like her. He was completely mad, and she had the admission papers to prove it. The only thing Rachel was guilty for was standing by and letting Bruce Wayne rescue Gotham from threats like Jack Napier all by himself.
Her hand reached desperately for the door handle, and, as soon as she had a good grip on it, she pulled it back. The door did not open. Her eyes darted to the lock; which was pushed down into place. If she could just reach quickly enough to unlock the door…She thrust her hand forward and unlocked it, but did not have enough time to open the door. The Joker pulled her back against him, and she struggled endlessly against his grip. His breath brushed past her ear as he scolded her as anyone else would a misbehaving child. This only fueled her desire to get away from him; to distance herself from him was her top priority at that point in time. He threatened her by pressing what Rachel assumed was a gun into her side. Her chin tilted up and she stopped moving entirely, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath she took.
His lips brushed against her cheek as he instructed her to return to her seat, and Rachel bit down on her tongue to keep from retorting with a witty or snide comment. Instead, the DA drew in a deep breath, brushed the bangs from her face with a shaky hand, and wordlessly took her seat next to him.
Several seconds had passed, and Rachel, in a gesture of her stubborn and fierce nature, reached out and grabbed the emergency brake. She forcefully pushed it down so that it released, and the car was free to move. There was a seemingly interminable silence between the Joker and Rachel Dawes as the car began to roll forward as if nothing had ever happened. She could no longer pay attention to the infrastructures that they were passing, so she shifted her gaze from the window and settled it on the Joker’s mask-less face.
Without his mask, the Joker looked less like the anarchist that Gotham was familiar with, and more like an ordinary human being. It was frightening how well he blended into the bar-scene not half an hour ago. Rachel absent-mindedly drummed her fingers on the window next to her, her impatience clearly beginning to get the best of her. “Where are you bringing us, then?” she asked, attempting to make some form of conversation with him. “And you know that the second Bruce sees me and his car missing, he’ll put two and two together and they’ll dispatch a unit to come and look for me.” She knew that her words may come off as threatening, but she knew that they’d mean nothing to him.
When Rachel finally released the emergency brake, the Joker sneered as he observed her folded arms and the soft, childish pout on her lips. She resembled a sulky brat at the moment, but this naturally amused the clown prince all the more. He noticed that she seemed hell-bent on keeping as far away from him as humanly possible, hence why she was practically smashed against her side of the car. Just for shits and giggles, the Joker was tempted to reach over and touch her thigh, but since he figured she'd just end up sending them headfirst into a wreck, he kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he chewed on his scars.
The Joker could feel Rachel watching him out of the corner of his eye as he drove, and it made him considerably agitated. He didn't like being observed as if he was some freak show, and he most certainly didn't like to be stared at out of pity. He highly doubted that Rachel was feeling sorry for him, but since he refused to meet with her gaze, he decided that he'd just do his best to ignore her. She was a dire part of his plan, after all.
Finally unable to take her scrutiny, the Joker trained his wild gaze upon her while snarling, "What, so you've never seen a human being before!? Stop staring at me, or I'll rip your eyes right out of their sockets!" Still fuming as he processed her question, the clown prince composed himself at a surprisingly fast pace before shrugging. "Weeell, my curious little bunny, if you really must know, I'm taking you to a dark, spooooky dungeon where I'll force you to play with Batman figurines as torture." Rolling his eyes, he added, "In all seriousness, I'm taking you to my current place of residence." When he noticed the slight shine of hope in her baby blues, he sneered while chiding, "Ah, ah, ahh, don't even think about telling Gordy and his pigs where I live, because once I'm through with you, I'll have moved on to another location. I'm not a fool, after all."
Cutting the wheel to the right, the Joker gave a giggle at her hollow threat. "Ooh-hoo-hoo, well I'm sooo scared! Whatever shall I do if Richie Rich dispatches his donut hounds to come and rescue you!? I'll be ruined! I mean, I've never been able to escape from the GCPD before!"
Eyes suddenly shining with recognition, the Joker grinned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Thanks for reminding me of something, beautiful" he added, chuckling as he dialed a number and placed the phone by his ear. After a brief pause, he spoke in a hushed voice, "Yeah, it's me...remember to round up the you-know-what since I've got a guest for the evening. What? Oh...yeah, uh-huh, that's fine. Just bring 'im by in an hour or so. I'm sure I'll be able to work things out by then."
Hanging up without another thought, the Joker sent Rachel a smile that could only be defined as cruel, his tongue snaking across his lips as he purred, "Enjoying yourself yet, my dear?"
His snapping at her proved one thing to the relentless Rachel Dawes: The Joker was a human being. His reaction was laced with negative emotions, which also proved that he was able to feel, contrary to the beliefs of many of the officers at the Major Crime Unit. At least Rachel was getting inside his head and receiving a rare glimpse of the mortal and destructible Jack Napier. The more she learned about him made her understanding of him much clearer. It would help her further her investigation (as well as give her plenty of information to share with Gordon if and when she was released). He stated quite clearly that he would move locations once he was ‘through with her’. How generous of him to tell her that! Rachel didn’t need his location to catch him. She needed to be able to think like him and hopefully, in spending this so-called ‘quality time’ with him, she’d be able to do so without a shadow of a doubt. He’d be behind bars faster than he could tell her a story about his scars.
The scars…
Rachel would be lying if she didn’t admit to have wondered about their origin. There were numerous possibilities, and she, as a criminal investigator, was often responsible to try and piece together how people received certain markings. This was most often demanded of her at murder scenes. There were always three categories to separate circumstances from one another: there were self-induced markings, accidentally acquired markings, and then there were warnings. The first and the latter were the most common, followed closely by the second. How the Joker acquired these markings was a mystery. He had lied about it to her face, and Rachel had heard numerous versions of his story since then.
Daddy beat mommy and turned on me, I wanted to please my wife, I got in some hot water with the mafia… All lies.
Rachel was so concentrated on her deciphering of his scars that she barely noticed he’d been speaking to her. She knew that the GCPD was hardly a threat to him, and that he thought Gordon and his team were the most pathetic squad on the planet. The DA knew what the Joker was capable of, and she naturally didn’t doubt his abilities one bit. But he neglected one thing; one thing that only she, Lucius Fox, and Alfred Pennyworth were aware of. Bruce Wayne was also Batman.
His alias was protected by his entourage, and they guarded his secret with their lives. Perhaps that was why the Joker had wanted to talk to Rachel so badly. Maybe he had a hunch - a sneaking suspicion - as to Batman’s identity?
She’d never tell him. He could kill her, and then Bruce’s secret would be taken with her to the grave. She now realized she could playing a bigger role in the large-scale picture than she had originally anticipated (and she was also aware that her assumptions as to the Joker’s plan could also be completely false).
At his inquiry, she grunted in response. Oh, yes, she was enjoying herself immensely. She kept her sarcastic remarks to herself, for the metallic glint of his knife and gun were enough to ensure her silence. Rachel bit down on the inside of her cheek, turned her head toward him, smiled sarcastically and nodded. “You sure know how to take a girl out on the town.”
Oops. Sarcasm-monster escaping.
The Joker gave Rachel a crooked, yellowed sneer -- due to years of neglect and an affinity for sweets -- his lips momentarily pursing before he jeered, "Ahh, well of course I know how to show a woman a good time, jelly bean! You women of today are so into men with mystery, and since I'm just an enigma wrapped up in yet another enigma, I'm the perfect man for all you hankering slobs!" Reaching over toward the ADA, the Joker ran a gloved finger along Rachel's bare arm in a pseudo-affectionate gesture, his hand then trailing up next to her ear before he promptly flicked it with a whoop. Enjoying the half-stunned, half-irritated look on her charming countenance, he ran his tongue across his lips and sent her a smug grin. "Well what's the matter, Miss Stick in the Mud? Would you rather be out on a date with Battycakes?"
Hoping to have jarred a reaction out of her with that question, the Joker eyed Rachel closely before returning his gaze to the road. "Surely you know you have something I want, precious. There's no de-nying you know who Batsy is, 'cause a man who risks everything for one little bunny is beyond smitten. I highly doubt you'd have a re-lationship with the man and never get to see what's under that goony-looking cowl, so let's just be frank with one another here."
The Joker’s touch made Rachel’s skin want to sliver off of her bones. She gave him an incredulous look when he flicked her ear and she bit down on her tongue to keep from shouting out in surprise. She could remember instances in her childhood where she could hardly stand to be touched, and as she grew older, she found that she only allowed physical contact with those she was involved with. Bruce, however, was…an exception. And, as if sensing her train of thought, the Joker brought him up in the must unconventional of ways.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, glaring daggers from her eyes to the side of his face. Maybe she could make more scars for him with her intense staring. Her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that her knuckles were white and shaking. How did he know all of this? Surely he wasn’t that observant - he had only seen Rachel and “Batman” together once before. Dropping her out of the Wayne Penthouse window was not the best way to judge if someone was smitten or not. Batman, for all the Joker knew, could only have been avoiding putting more blood on his hands (or a lawsuit). The DA was also not fond of being referred to as a ‘bunny’. Her jaw was clenched, and she refrained from saying anything else. She would not sell Bruce out to Gotham’s greatest criminal mastermind.
She wouldn’t be frank with him unless she absolutely had to.
The uncomfortable silence that followed spoke volumes to the Joker, his jaundiced gaze glinting with triumph as he turned the car down a long, narrow alleyway that led toward his hide-out on 64th Street. Nobody ever thought to look in Mr. Whitman's apartment for the elusive clown prince of crime, because they probably figured he was residing in the clichéd "old, abandoned warehouse" that was always featured in cheesy action flicks. Once he’d parked the car alongside the abandoned apartment -- Mr. Whitman had "mysteriously" passed away mere weeks ago -- the Joker laid down on the horn in order to get his thugs' attention.
With a grin in Rachel's direction, he cheerily added, "Now here's where the real fun begins, sugar pop. Inside, I've got a little...surprise for you, but don't worry, I don't like to give away gifts for free. We'll have a niiiice, long talk before we get to the festivities of the evening."
At that moment, three masked men came tromping down the front steps of the apartment, the Joker making a curious, cryptic signal so that one of the men went back inside and the other two continued on their way. Promptly opening the passenger door, the first thug took Rachel by the arm, unhooked her seatbelt, and hefted her up out of the car.
With an eager glint in his eyes, the Joker opened his side of the car and hopped out onto his feet, his voice retaining his giddy excitement as he purred, "Go on, go on, bring her inside, you dunderheads! We can't have the whole hobo population seeing this little...experiment."
Immediately doing as they were told, the henchmen flanked Rachel's struggling form and began to lead her inside the building, the Joker grinning broadly as he followed behind them and began whistling a jaunty tune. Once inside, the Joker removed his coat and gloves, his lips curling up into a delicate sneer as he asked, "Sooo, whaddaya think of my humble abode, hmm? Is it everything you'd hoped for and more?"
The masked man pulled Rachel by the arm and began to drag her, but her body went limp so that she’d feel heavier to the thug, who grunted with the newfound effort. Frustrated, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, and it was only then that Rachel began to struggle. She grunted, shrieked and kicked, hoping to catch him in the face as he led her into a dimly lit building. As soon as the Joker asked her what she thought, the thug dropped her flat onto her back, and Rachel was sent tumbling into a heap of pain. How classy.
“Somehow, I thought it’d be bigger” she commented sarcastically, sitting up and rubbing the back of her neck.
“You thought what would be bigger?” the Joker demanded, quirking a brow before giving her a Cheshire grin. “Ahh, right, right, right…the hidey-hole. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” Clicking his tongue, he cheerily added, “Why would you think it’d be bigger, anyway? If it were too big, it’d stand out and make it easier for Gordy and his pigs to find me. I may not plan things ahead too often, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool.”
Motioning for his men to leave them to their own devices, he held out his arm for Rachel to take as if he were a gentleman. He chuckled when she merely glared at him, so instead of forcing her into the semi-intimate gesture, he took her by the forearm and dragged her into the sitting room. Inside there wasn't much furniture, but since the clown prince wasn't exactly known for soirées or tea parties, it had exactly as much as what was expected. With an overly dramatic sweep of his arm, he motioned for Rachel to sit as he hopped into the seat across from her. Now crossing his legs and steepling his fingers, he gave her a dark grin while purring, "Soooo...why don't you and I just continue our little conversation from earlier, hmm? You know who Batsy-boy is, and I want to know who Batsy-boy is, so why don't we give a little trade-off?"
Pleased by the fact that Rachel's stance stiffened almost immediately, the Joker leaned forward while urging, "Not to worry, not to worry, you'll be sure to get something out of the deal as well." Placing two fingers into his mouth, he whistled shrilly before the sound of a struggle began in the adjacent room. There was a soft sob, then a hoarse shout as the sound of skin meeting skin belted across the room. When the door opened, one thug was holding a little blonde girl with her arms twisted painfully behind her back, tears streaming down her rouge cheeks as she looked up at Rachel with pitiful grey eyes.
"Ahh, here's our guest of honor now!" the Joker exclaimed, giving a giddy whoop as he leapt up from his chair. Now whipping out his gun, he grinned broadly as the thug pushed the girl down to her knees and held a gun of his own to her head. Noting the perplexed look in Rachel's eyes, the Joker relished in the girl's deafening fear as she shivered and shook on the floor, his finger clicking back the hammer to the gun as he revealed, "Here's the deal, precious: you tell me Batpoop's name, and then I'll let the brat go. If you don't...well..." He shrugged with a chuckle. "I'd say it's pretty obvious, but I'd hate to have to paint a picture for you in her own blood."
Rachel glared icily over at the Joker and his thug. They didn’t care that they had just thrown her to the ground, and she felt so small when surrounded by these men. Helpless. She hadn’t felt that sort of helplessness since the night Ana Ramirez abused her trust to keep her half-dead grandmother breathing for another night. At first, Rachel felt pity for her - and sympathized with her situation. She had nearly lost her own life, and for what? Rachel was still young, and Ana’s grandmother had lived most of her life already. The logical choice would have been to give someone else the chance to live.
No. No, she couldn’t have that sort of luxury. Whatever will to live she’d had left was killed by the psychopath who was now pulling her toward a sitting room. Harvey, who only wanted peace and order in Gotham, had to take the fall for a bunch of ungrateful citizens. It was a wonder how Rachel hadn’t turned her back on the justice system yet.
But what did the Joker want with her? The question repeated itself endlessly within her head. Hadn’t he had his fun with her already? He’d practically tortured her - made her reassure Harvey that everything was going to be fine when she knew it wouldn’t. When she knew that they were coming for her, and she wished that they weren’t. Harvey’s madness and his eventual downfall was all the Joker’s fault, and now Rachel was left to wander the world aimlessly and alone. Bruce tried to relate to her on the grounds of his parents’ murder, but that had been so long ago - so different. No one could ever understand the pain she currently endured.
She had now lived long enough to see herself become the villain.
She regarded the Joker; her gaze shaky and faltering every once in a while. Rachel sought out any objects - blunt or sharp - that she could use to take out the Joker and thereby regain her freedom. She now knew what he wanted: Batman’s identity. As soon as he said the words, everything became so clear. She could lie to him - and had even thought about it. She could make up the most fabulous story about a fictional person, and he would believe it and let her go. Now if only it worked that way in the real world.
Now a blonde girl - younger than she - was dragged into the room practically writhing in pain on the spot. Rachel’s heart stopped at the sight. The tables were turning again, and it was her move that would determine the outcome of the game. As much as she despised the justice system and wanted to take matters into her own hands, she couldn’t have someone be killed because of Bruce. Not again. Rachel stood up as the Joker moved to strike.
“Stop!” she gasped. Her eyes swayed back and forth from the young girl to the man who was now holding both of them hostage. “You’re right. I do know who Batman is…” Maybe she could dance her way around the answer, “But what good is his identity to you? You’re like…a dog on the prowl. Once you’ve caught what you’ve been chasing…The thrill is gone.” She shrugged. “Isn’t it?” Having was never the same as wanting, after all.
The Joker gave a snarl at Rachel's response, for he was genuinely caught off-guard. The fact that he'd allowed his bloodlust to cloud his judgment highly angered him, yet he masked his frustration with a smirk as he gave the girl's left pigtail a tug. He didn't like being played at his own game, so he had to make sure that Rachel wasn't able to regain her footing. Granted, she was absolutely right: it would be pointless if she divulged Batman's identity, because the Joker was so bipolar that he'd probably end up killing Batsy-boy in his sleep. And then where would he be? He couldn't just return to outsmarting the pigs, foolish civilians, and the headstrong members of the mob, because that just wouldn't do. It wasn't any fun to try and outwit idiots, because he liked challenges, not commonplace, every day battles for dummies.
Authors: KL & Rachel
Summary: When the Joker discovers he failed in killing Rachel Dawes, he engages her in a battle of wits that forces her to see herself in her true form.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue
~~This is actually the "written form" of my graphic novel/fan comic, so it's got a bit of spoilers :3 ~~
Despite the fact that the Joker despised clubs, he had decided upon meeting a patron there to discuss a new "business" transaction. Almost feeling naked without his make-up, he ran a black-gloved hand across his scars as he observed the clientele. There were far too many dim-witted, obnoxious people grinding against one another for his liking, but he wasn't surprised to see such primitive, mindless simpletons partaking in equally primitive, mindless activities. Rolling his eyes when a particularly buxom blonde fell into his person, he shrugged off her squeaky apology and made a beeline for the bar.
Sitting down on one of the rickety old bar stools, a sudden child-like urge to spin on his seat came to mind, but he quickly shrugged it off when the bartender addressed him with a toothy grin. "What'll it be, kid?"
The Joker smirked at that. The old man didn't know the half of it, considering how Gotham was his playground, and each of his delightful weapons his toys. With a click of his tongue, he shrugged and uttered lowly, "A scotch for now -- come back later when I want something stronger."
When the bartender nodded and went off to get the drink, the Joker's eyes lazily strayed toward the woman two seats down from him. She was wearing a slinky red dress, his gaze traveling down her slender legs to observe the equally red pumps. When he directed his gaze back up toward her half-hidden face, however, he immediately paled. An inexplicable burst of fury alighted his otherwise indifferent gaze, his fists clenching when he realized that it was none other than Rachel Dawes, Former ADA Extraordinaire. But then, it couldn't be... How could she have escaped the blast?
'No matter' he thought, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. 'I'll settle this once and for all.'
With a grin that would make even a prostitute blush, the Joker carefully made his way over toward Rachel before having a seat beside her, his arm purposely brushing against hers to ensure as much discomfort on her part as possible. "Hello, there" he cooed.
How on Earth did Rachel allow Bruce to talk her into this? Whichever method he had used, Bruce managed to take Rachel out for lunch, which she had not done since Harvey had passed. She hadn’t been out in months after her ‘accident’, and she was beginning to look quite pale. She’d lost a significant amount of weight because food no longer seemed appealing to her, and a great deal of this was because she missed Harvey. She had been so ready to get married to him - to spend her entire life by his side. Bruce must have taken note of her sudden withdrawal from life, and decided to pull from the darkness and back into the light. Rachel was still unsure of how she felt about that.
The District Attorney (did she even have a job any more?) shifted uncomfortably in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She tugged nervously on her hat, trying to get it to cover the majority of her face. It seemed to be working, because no one seemed to have taken note of her presence. But then, as if on cue, a stranger sat down next to her, his arm brushing up against hers. She immediately straightened her shoulders, biting the inside of her cheek as paranoia once again overwhelmed her senses.
His voice caused goose bumps to form on her bare arms and legs, and she glanced to the side at him, first without turning her face. His silhouette didn’t appear familiar at all, but his voice did. Fearing he may grow aggressive if she did not acknowledge his presence, Rachel turned her body to face him, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“Hello” she replied simply. She flashed him a glimpse of a smile and then turned away, placing her hands onto the counter and reaching for her glass (which was empty). Rachel glanced at it sadly and twisted her finger around the rim, pausing for a moment as she felt almost as if she were caught in a moment of déjà-vu. Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought, as if she were analyzing the man before her.
At first, the DA was not phased by the appearance of this total stranger. In fact, she was rather elated that anyone wished to speak with her at all. Perhaps he was under the impression that she was one of the prostitutes from the west side of the city; the women who desperately sold their bodies either for personal gain or as an act of rebellion against their abusive husbands. She wouldn’t be surprised if he thought she was one of them at all, but either way, this was not the case for Rachel Dawes and she hoped the stranger would realize this sooner or later. She looked up at the bartender as he approached her with a refill of what she had previously been sipping. She thanked him with a nod of her head, removing the novelty straw from her now-empty glass and placing it inside the new one.
The Joker sneered at Rachel’s rather clipped response, her closed-in demeanor like a breath of fresh air as he eagerly leaned in closer. “I’m just checking in on an old friend, gum drop, and to see if Battycakes is treating you right. Do I need to go give him a lesson in manners?” Chuckling, he briefly debated on stroking her arm again to send her defense mechanism into action, but he decided against it since he wanted to see how things would naturally play out.
The man had begun speaking again and, just as before, Rachel’s movements halted and shivers coursed up and down her spine. When he mentioned he was ‘checking in on an old friend’, she spared him a surprised glance, clearly curious as to who he could mean. She thought that he had even referred to Batman at some point. She had never met this man before in her life, and it appeared as though he had confused her with someone else. Politely, she turned to face him and took a shallow breath to say, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve-” She stopped when she took a longer glance at him. His eyes held a malicious glint in their depths; one that was even more familiar than his voice. Suddenly doubting that this was really (could it be?) him, she trailed her eyes over his cheekbones and to the corners of his mouth. If the scars were present, it would confirm her suspicion. And then what? Would she run? As if her worst fears were presented before her eyes, there they were. They were less visible without the face make-up to make them stand out, but they were most assuredly there.
No, it couldn’t be...
Rachel sat, silently gaping at the man that she now recognized as her captor and the man who had turned Gotham against itself in a matter of days. She jumped up, spilling her drink across the counter. She took a few steps back, closing her gaping mouth. She didn’t know whether to run, to pull out her cell phone and call Commissioner Gordon, or to shout out to the bartender that a terrorist was inside his establishment. Either way, all logic escaped her, and she was left standing and cowering in front of a man who appeared innocent before the unsuspecting eyes of the patrons.
His eyes advanced on her, even if his body wasn't. Adrenaline and paranoia coursed through her veins as the Assistant DA stepped back even further, her escape route closer with each shaking step. The Joker raised himself from the barstool and Rachel's heartbeat accelerated to an immeasurable rate. She moved to turn her body and run (which, she supposed, was human instinct), but this plan was futile. The Joker was faster than she had anticipated, and he seized her roughly by her arms, keeping her from her escape, from salvation, and from freedom. She wanted to scream, but only managed to choke out a tiny squeak of discontent. Her lips were pressed together with such force that she began to hurt herself. She knew that she had no choice but to listen to him, for if she caused a scene, she was certain that the Joker would not hesitate to kill all the witnesses in the room.
Keeping his hold securely around her limbs, the Joker brushed his scarred lips against her ear as he lowly urged “Now you’re going to be a good little bunny, and you’re going to walk out to your car, get in, and act as if nothing’s happened here, alriiiight? I just want to have a little…chat for old time’s sake. If you don’t comply, I might have to play carve the pumpkin with you face.” Digging a knife into her side as further testament to his threat, he chuckled when he felt her stiffen and reveled in her glorious vulnerability.
Rachel was so tense that her limbs burned from exhaustion. Her jaw trembling almost imperceptibly, the lawyer nodded once, all the while refusing to look into his eyes or even speak to him. The scene was oddly familiar to her, and yet why shouldn't it have been? The man had an affinity for knives, so she shouldn’t have been shocked to find him threatening her with one yet again…for ‘old time’s sake’, as he’d said.
It didn’t take long for the Joker to force Rachel into the passenger side of the car, but as he crawled into the driver’s seat, he gave a pleased little whoop and began fiddling with all the buttons after turning it on. “Nice ride, sweet cheeks! If I’d have known that this is the kind of things lawyers drive, I would’ve become one years ago! Uhh…right after I became an official candy taster, of course.” Sparing her a glance, he grinned while asking “What, so you’re not a talker, eh? That’s alright, I’ll do all the yakking, so you just listen.”
Rachel merely huffed in response, her gaze directing out the window as he shifted the car into ‘drive’ and began easing down the street. She was highly annoyed, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see his effect on her.
Deciding to up the ante, the Joker kept his gaze on the road ahead as he slyly asked “I’ve always had a question for you, Miss Former ADA: why is it Harvey even ‘needed’ you to begin with, hmm? I mean, uh…he seemed so insistent upon having you at his side during his whole DA spiel, but why do you think that is, hmm? ‘Cause I’ll tell you one thing, it’s not because you’re intelligent. Hell, you’re so-called ‘intelligence’ nearly got you killed, so here’s the kicker, m’dear: Harrrvey only had you on his campaign because you’re a woman, and women help get the minority vote. It’s nothing personal, sugar pie…just politics! How’s that settle with you, hmm? To know that you were nothing but a mere pawn in Harvey-kins’ little party platform?”
Rachel chose to say nothing, but her eyes stung amidst her rage as she clenched her teeth and squeezed her fists.
The Joker was highly amused by Rachel's attempts at stifling her true emotions, but when she failed to give him any sort of verbal response, he found himself becoming rather irritated. If he wanted to talk to himself, he would've just gone ahead and kidnapped a brick wall. Sparing the DA a calculating glance, the clown prince chewed on his lower lip in disgust when he realized that Rachel was concentrating on whatever it was they were passing. With her face so stubbornly turned in the opposite direction, he couldn't even analyze her emotions, and it highly annoyed him. If there was anything the Joker loved, it was discovering what made people behave the way they do, and if Rachel wouldn't even look at him, how was he supposed to know how his speech was affecting her?
After the Joker finished his inner assessment, he finally felt himself being held in place by Rachel's red-hot gaze. Her eyes were like two fiery sapphires, and despite the fact that she seemed hell-bent on strangling him with his own tie, he found a certain beauty in the bloodlust in her eyes. He'd always admired the look in human eyes when faced with anger, fear, or the desire to maim, and Rachel's current gaze was no different. She was just as much of a monster as he was, and it highly amused him. "You should see your face right now" the Joker purred, his lips curling back into a devilish sneer. "You look like a beast hell-bent on survival, and you know what? The same coarse, animalistic blood runs through my very veins, so no matter how much you want to deny it, we're not so different from one another."
Before the Joker could continue his spiel, however, the car suddenly crawled to a halt as Rachel desperately reached for the door handle. Cat-like in his reflexes, the clown prince effortlessly seized her by the elbow and yanked her firmly back against him, his lips at her ear as he chided, "Ah, ah, ahhh, is that any way to treat an old friend, my dear little DA? All I want to do is talk, and once we're through, I'll let you go." Now petting her hair as if she were a beloved pet, he smirked when she stiffened beneath his touch and fought to get away. "Ooh-hoo-hoo, still as feisty as ever, I see! I just love a good struggle...keep it up, beautiful, and you'll be eating lead faster than you can say Battycakes." Within moments, the Joker pressed his revolver against her flank as further testament to the fact, his lips now brushing against her cheek as he urged, "Get back in your seat, buckle your safety belt, and behave like the upstanding little citizen you're supposed to be. And if you're a really good girl, I might let you go early."
Rachel hated being compared to him. They were nothing alike. She was a woman who stood up for what was right and just, while he was a merciless killer who seemed bent on proving to everyone that Gotham would destroy itself. The Joker was not like her. He was completely mad, and she had the admission papers to prove it. The only thing Rachel was guilty for was standing by and letting Bruce Wayne rescue Gotham from threats like Jack Napier all by himself.
Her hand reached desperately for the door handle, and, as soon as she had a good grip on it, she pulled it back. The door did not open. Her eyes darted to the lock; which was pushed down into place. If she could just reach quickly enough to unlock the door…She thrust her hand forward and unlocked it, but did not have enough time to open the door. The Joker pulled her back against him, and she struggled endlessly against his grip. His breath brushed past her ear as he scolded her as anyone else would a misbehaving child. This only fueled her desire to get away from him; to distance herself from him was her top priority at that point in time. He threatened her by pressing what Rachel assumed was a gun into her side. Her chin tilted up and she stopped moving entirely, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath she took.
His lips brushed against her cheek as he instructed her to return to her seat, and Rachel bit down on her tongue to keep from retorting with a witty or snide comment. Instead, the DA drew in a deep breath, brushed the bangs from her face with a shaky hand, and wordlessly took her seat next to him.
Several seconds had passed, and Rachel, in a gesture of her stubborn and fierce nature, reached out and grabbed the emergency brake. She forcefully pushed it down so that it released, and the car was free to move. There was a seemingly interminable silence between the Joker and Rachel Dawes as the car began to roll forward as if nothing had ever happened. She could no longer pay attention to the infrastructures that they were passing, so she shifted her gaze from the window and settled it on the Joker’s mask-less face.
Without his mask, the Joker looked less like the anarchist that Gotham was familiar with, and more like an ordinary human being. It was frightening how well he blended into the bar-scene not half an hour ago. Rachel absent-mindedly drummed her fingers on the window next to her, her impatience clearly beginning to get the best of her. “Where are you bringing us, then?” she asked, attempting to make some form of conversation with him. “And you know that the second Bruce sees me and his car missing, he’ll put two and two together and they’ll dispatch a unit to come and look for me.” She knew that her words may come off as threatening, but she knew that they’d mean nothing to him.
When Rachel finally released the emergency brake, the Joker sneered as he observed her folded arms and the soft, childish pout on her lips. She resembled a sulky brat at the moment, but this naturally amused the clown prince all the more. He noticed that she seemed hell-bent on keeping as far away from him as humanly possible, hence why she was practically smashed against her side of the car. Just for shits and giggles, the Joker was tempted to reach over and touch her thigh, but since he figured she'd just end up sending them headfirst into a wreck, he kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he chewed on his scars.
The Joker could feel Rachel watching him out of the corner of his eye as he drove, and it made him considerably agitated. He didn't like being observed as if he was some freak show, and he most certainly didn't like to be stared at out of pity. He highly doubted that Rachel was feeling sorry for him, but since he refused to meet with her gaze, he decided that he'd just do his best to ignore her. She was a dire part of his plan, after all.
Finally unable to take her scrutiny, the Joker trained his wild gaze upon her while snarling, "What, so you've never seen a human being before!? Stop staring at me, or I'll rip your eyes right out of their sockets!" Still fuming as he processed her question, the clown prince composed himself at a surprisingly fast pace before shrugging. "Weeell, my curious little bunny, if you really must know, I'm taking you to a dark, spooooky dungeon where I'll force you to play with Batman figurines as torture." Rolling his eyes, he added, "In all seriousness, I'm taking you to my current place of residence." When he noticed the slight shine of hope in her baby blues, he sneered while chiding, "Ah, ah, ahh, don't even think about telling Gordy and his pigs where I live, because once I'm through with you, I'll have moved on to another location. I'm not a fool, after all."
Cutting the wheel to the right, the Joker gave a giggle at her hollow threat. "Ooh-hoo-hoo, well I'm sooo scared! Whatever shall I do if Richie Rich dispatches his donut hounds to come and rescue you!? I'll be ruined! I mean, I've never been able to escape from the GCPD before!"
Eyes suddenly shining with recognition, the Joker grinned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Thanks for reminding me of something, beautiful" he added, chuckling as he dialed a number and placed the phone by his ear. After a brief pause, he spoke in a hushed voice, "Yeah, it's me...remember to round up the you-know-what since I've got a guest for the evening. What? Oh...yeah, uh-huh, that's fine. Just bring 'im by in an hour or so. I'm sure I'll be able to work things out by then."
Hanging up without another thought, the Joker sent Rachel a smile that could only be defined as cruel, his tongue snaking across his lips as he purred, "Enjoying yourself yet, my dear?"
His snapping at her proved one thing to the relentless Rachel Dawes: The Joker was a human being. His reaction was laced with negative emotions, which also proved that he was able to feel, contrary to the beliefs of many of the officers at the Major Crime Unit. At least Rachel was getting inside his head and receiving a rare glimpse of the mortal and destructible Jack Napier. The more she learned about him made her understanding of him much clearer. It would help her further her investigation (as well as give her plenty of information to share with Gordon if and when she was released). He stated quite clearly that he would move locations once he was ‘through with her’. How generous of him to tell her that! Rachel didn’t need his location to catch him. She needed to be able to think like him and hopefully, in spending this so-called ‘quality time’ with him, she’d be able to do so without a shadow of a doubt. He’d be behind bars faster than he could tell her a story about his scars.
The scars…
Rachel would be lying if she didn’t admit to have wondered about their origin. There were numerous possibilities, and she, as a criminal investigator, was often responsible to try and piece together how people received certain markings. This was most often demanded of her at murder scenes. There were always three categories to separate circumstances from one another: there were self-induced markings, accidentally acquired markings, and then there were warnings. The first and the latter were the most common, followed closely by the second. How the Joker acquired these markings was a mystery. He had lied about it to her face, and Rachel had heard numerous versions of his story since then.
Daddy beat mommy and turned on me, I wanted to please my wife, I got in some hot water with the mafia… All lies.
Rachel was so concentrated on her deciphering of his scars that she barely noticed he’d been speaking to her. She knew that the GCPD was hardly a threat to him, and that he thought Gordon and his team were the most pathetic squad on the planet. The DA knew what the Joker was capable of, and she naturally didn’t doubt his abilities one bit. But he neglected one thing; one thing that only she, Lucius Fox, and Alfred Pennyworth were aware of. Bruce Wayne was also Batman.
His alias was protected by his entourage, and they guarded his secret with their lives. Perhaps that was why the Joker had wanted to talk to Rachel so badly. Maybe he had a hunch - a sneaking suspicion - as to Batman’s identity?
She’d never tell him. He could kill her, and then Bruce’s secret would be taken with her to the grave. She now realized she could playing a bigger role in the large-scale picture than she had originally anticipated (and she was also aware that her assumptions as to the Joker’s plan could also be completely false).
At his inquiry, she grunted in response. Oh, yes, she was enjoying herself immensely. She kept her sarcastic remarks to herself, for the metallic glint of his knife and gun were enough to ensure her silence. Rachel bit down on the inside of her cheek, turned her head toward him, smiled sarcastically and nodded. “You sure know how to take a girl out on the town.”
Oops. Sarcasm-monster escaping.
The Joker gave Rachel a crooked, yellowed sneer -- due to years of neglect and an affinity for sweets -- his lips momentarily pursing before he jeered, "Ahh, well of course I know how to show a woman a good time, jelly bean! You women of today are so into men with mystery, and since I'm just an enigma wrapped up in yet another enigma, I'm the perfect man for all you hankering slobs!" Reaching over toward the ADA, the Joker ran a gloved finger along Rachel's bare arm in a pseudo-affectionate gesture, his hand then trailing up next to her ear before he promptly flicked it with a whoop. Enjoying the half-stunned, half-irritated look on her charming countenance, he ran his tongue across his lips and sent her a smug grin. "Well what's the matter, Miss Stick in the Mud? Would you rather be out on a date with Battycakes?"
Hoping to have jarred a reaction out of her with that question, the Joker eyed Rachel closely before returning his gaze to the road. "Surely you know you have something I want, precious. There's no de-nying you know who Batsy is, 'cause a man who risks everything for one little bunny is beyond smitten. I highly doubt you'd have a re-lationship with the man and never get to see what's under that goony-looking cowl, so let's just be frank with one another here."
The Joker’s touch made Rachel’s skin want to sliver off of her bones. She gave him an incredulous look when he flicked her ear and she bit down on her tongue to keep from shouting out in surprise. She could remember instances in her childhood where she could hardly stand to be touched, and as she grew older, she found that she only allowed physical contact with those she was involved with. Bruce, however, was…an exception. And, as if sensing her train of thought, the Joker brought him up in the must unconventional of ways.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, glaring daggers from her eyes to the side of his face. Maybe she could make more scars for him with her intense staring. Her hands were clenched into fists so tightly that her knuckles were white and shaking. How did he know all of this? Surely he wasn’t that observant - he had only seen Rachel and “Batman” together once before. Dropping her out of the Wayne Penthouse window was not the best way to judge if someone was smitten or not. Batman, for all the Joker knew, could only have been avoiding putting more blood on his hands (or a lawsuit). The DA was also not fond of being referred to as a ‘bunny’. Her jaw was clenched, and she refrained from saying anything else. She would not sell Bruce out to Gotham’s greatest criminal mastermind.
She wouldn’t be frank with him unless she absolutely had to.
The uncomfortable silence that followed spoke volumes to the Joker, his jaundiced gaze glinting with triumph as he turned the car down a long, narrow alleyway that led toward his hide-out on 64th Street. Nobody ever thought to look in Mr. Whitman's apartment for the elusive clown prince of crime, because they probably figured he was residing in the clichéd "old, abandoned warehouse" that was always featured in cheesy action flicks. Once he’d parked the car alongside the abandoned apartment -- Mr. Whitman had "mysteriously" passed away mere weeks ago -- the Joker laid down on the horn in order to get his thugs' attention.
With a grin in Rachel's direction, he cheerily added, "Now here's where the real fun begins, sugar pop. Inside, I've got a little...surprise for you, but don't worry, I don't like to give away gifts for free. We'll have a niiiice, long talk before we get to the festivities of the evening."
At that moment, three masked men came tromping down the front steps of the apartment, the Joker making a curious, cryptic signal so that one of the men went back inside and the other two continued on their way. Promptly opening the passenger door, the first thug took Rachel by the arm, unhooked her seatbelt, and hefted her up out of the car.
With an eager glint in his eyes, the Joker opened his side of the car and hopped out onto his feet, his voice retaining his giddy excitement as he purred, "Go on, go on, bring her inside, you dunderheads! We can't have the whole hobo population seeing this little...experiment."
Immediately doing as they were told, the henchmen flanked Rachel's struggling form and began to lead her inside the building, the Joker grinning broadly as he followed behind them and began whistling a jaunty tune. Once inside, the Joker removed his coat and gloves, his lips curling up into a delicate sneer as he asked, "Sooo, whaddaya think of my humble abode, hmm? Is it everything you'd hoped for and more?"
The masked man pulled Rachel by the arm and began to drag her, but her body went limp so that she’d feel heavier to the thug, who grunted with the newfound effort. Frustrated, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, and it was only then that Rachel began to struggle. She grunted, shrieked and kicked, hoping to catch him in the face as he led her into a dimly lit building. As soon as the Joker asked her what she thought, the thug dropped her flat onto her back, and Rachel was sent tumbling into a heap of pain. How classy.
“Somehow, I thought it’d be bigger” she commented sarcastically, sitting up and rubbing the back of her neck.
“You thought what would be bigger?” the Joker demanded, quirking a brow before giving her a Cheshire grin. “Ahh, right, right, right…the hidey-hole. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” Clicking his tongue, he cheerily added, “Why would you think it’d be bigger, anyway? If it were too big, it’d stand out and make it easier for Gordy and his pigs to find me. I may not plan things ahead too often, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool.”
Motioning for his men to leave them to their own devices, he held out his arm for Rachel to take as if he were a gentleman. He chuckled when she merely glared at him, so instead of forcing her into the semi-intimate gesture, he took her by the forearm and dragged her into the sitting room. Inside there wasn't much furniture, but since the clown prince wasn't exactly known for soirées or tea parties, it had exactly as much as what was expected. With an overly dramatic sweep of his arm, he motioned for Rachel to sit as he hopped into the seat across from her. Now crossing his legs and steepling his fingers, he gave her a dark grin while purring, "Soooo...why don't you and I just continue our little conversation from earlier, hmm? You know who Batsy-boy is, and I want to know who Batsy-boy is, so why don't we give a little trade-off?"
Pleased by the fact that Rachel's stance stiffened almost immediately, the Joker leaned forward while urging, "Not to worry, not to worry, you'll be sure to get something out of the deal as well." Placing two fingers into his mouth, he whistled shrilly before the sound of a struggle began in the adjacent room. There was a soft sob, then a hoarse shout as the sound of skin meeting skin belted across the room. When the door opened, one thug was holding a little blonde girl with her arms twisted painfully behind her back, tears streaming down her rouge cheeks as she looked up at Rachel with pitiful grey eyes.
"Ahh, here's our guest of honor now!" the Joker exclaimed, giving a giddy whoop as he leapt up from his chair. Now whipping out his gun, he grinned broadly as the thug pushed the girl down to her knees and held a gun of his own to her head. Noting the perplexed look in Rachel's eyes, the Joker relished in the girl's deafening fear as she shivered and shook on the floor, his finger clicking back the hammer to the gun as he revealed, "Here's the deal, precious: you tell me Batpoop's name, and then I'll let the brat go. If you don't...well..." He shrugged with a chuckle. "I'd say it's pretty obvious, but I'd hate to have to paint a picture for you in her own blood."
Rachel glared icily over at the Joker and his thug. They didn’t care that they had just thrown her to the ground, and she felt so small when surrounded by these men. Helpless. She hadn’t felt that sort of helplessness since the night Ana Ramirez abused her trust to keep her half-dead grandmother breathing for another night. At first, Rachel felt pity for her - and sympathized with her situation. She had nearly lost her own life, and for what? Rachel was still young, and Ana’s grandmother had lived most of her life already. The logical choice would have been to give someone else the chance to live.
No. No, she couldn’t have that sort of luxury. Whatever will to live she’d had left was killed by the psychopath who was now pulling her toward a sitting room. Harvey, who only wanted peace and order in Gotham, had to take the fall for a bunch of ungrateful citizens. It was a wonder how Rachel hadn’t turned her back on the justice system yet.
But what did the Joker want with her? The question repeated itself endlessly within her head. Hadn’t he had his fun with her already? He’d practically tortured her - made her reassure Harvey that everything was going to be fine when she knew it wouldn’t. When she knew that they were coming for her, and she wished that they weren’t. Harvey’s madness and his eventual downfall was all the Joker’s fault, and now Rachel was left to wander the world aimlessly and alone. Bruce tried to relate to her on the grounds of his parents’ murder, but that had been so long ago - so different. No one could ever understand the pain she currently endured.
She had now lived long enough to see herself become the villain.
She regarded the Joker; her gaze shaky and faltering every once in a while. Rachel sought out any objects - blunt or sharp - that she could use to take out the Joker and thereby regain her freedom. She now knew what he wanted: Batman’s identity. As soon as he said the words, everything became so clear. She could lie to him - and had even thought about it. She could make up the most fabulous story about a fictional person, and he would believe it and let her go. Now if only it worked that way in the real world.
Now a blonde girl - younger than she - was dragged into the room practically writhing in pain on the spot. Rachel’s heart stopped at the sight. The tables were turning again, and it was her move that would determine the outcome of the game. As much as she despised the justice system and wanted to take matters into her own hands, she couldn’t have someone be killed because of Bruce. Not again. Rachel stood up as the Joker moved to strike.
“Stop!” she gasped. Her eyes swayed back and forth from the young girl to the man who was now holding both of them hostage. “You’re right. I do know who Batman is…” Maybe she could dance her way around the answer, “But what good is his identity to you? You’re like…a dog on the prowl. Once you’ve caught what you’ve been chasing…The thrill is gone.” She shrugged. “Isn’t it?” Having was never the same as wanting, after all.
The Joker gave a snarl at Rachel's response, for he was genuinely caught off-guard. The fact that he'd allowed his bloodlust to cloud his judgment highly angered him, yet he masked his frustration with a smirk as he gave the girl's left pigtail a tug. He didn't like being played at his own game, so he had to make sure that Rachel wasn't able to regain her footing. Granted, she was absolutely right: it would be pointless if she divulged Batman's identity, because the Joker was so bipolar that he'd probably end up killing Batsy-boy in his sleep. And then where would he be? He couldn't just return to outsmarting the pigs, foolish civilians, and the headstrong members of the mob, because that just wouldn't do. It wasn't any fun to try and outwit idiots, because he liked challenges, not commonplace, every day battles for dummies.