Mad Dash (Musing_Way prompt)
Title: Mad Dash
Fandom: Batman (Comics)
Characters: Batman, Joker, Jason
Word Count: 1023
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: Not mine, mores the pity.
A/N: follows the ficlet Then and Now.
Dick is over in Europe on a case. Tim is with his Titans, doing something in a place that seems to be somewhere in Antarctica. Damian is out with a broken leg. The list of people he can call on for back up is vanishingly small. Still, there is nothing for it. The alarm has sounded, and Batman must answer. There are too many dangerous psychotics in Arkham; even one of them escaping is unacceptable. He has enough deaths on his conscience, from all the other times Joker, or Two-Face or someone else made a break for freedom and promptly resumed their murderous ways.
The car speeds toward the facility, easily passing the few cop cars also making their way to the sanitarium. Thankfully, when he pulls up, there is no smoke, no gaping holes in the walls. Well, that’s something at least.
No sooner does the car stop before the main door, than he is out and in the shadows, heading for Arkham's office. He needs to know who he is looking for.
Even in the well-lit hallway, no one takes notice of his dark shape; not one of the few moving around, for all the world looking rathre unconcerned. On the inside, everything is quiet. No barked orders, no rushing personnel. This isn't at all what he expected. Can it be a false alarm?
Letting himself into the office of one Jeremiah Arkham, the Bat faces the man he hopes has the answer.
When the bespectacled man in the white lab coat looks up, he isn't the least bit surprised to see his visitor. “Ah. You're here,” comes his blasé greeting.
“Who is it?” Batman growls, getting right to the point. He doesn't have time for games, and in his experience, the facility director is just as likely to engage in them as the inmates. How the man has retained his job is beyond the vigilante's understanding.
“Joker. Just him. We were able to lock everything down before anyone else could follow him into the sewers.” There should have been a note of pride in his statement but instead, there is only resignation.
A revolving door. All of his Robins have made that observation at one time or another, and Bruce can't disagree, but it is how things are. Fine, he'll track down the Joker yet again, and bring him back, once more playing his part in the melodrama. If he is very lucky, he will be able to manage it before any innocents lose their lives.
When Arkham glances at his papers again, the Bat takes the opportunity to leave unseen.
***
The trail is, unfortunately, easy to follow. There are bodies. So many bodies. But the Joker doesn't stay in one place long enough. Bruce isn't sure what he's after. Something. …Something of his? So far, the Clown has been crashing his own haunts and killing whoever he finds there. Some of the dead are former henchmen. Others are just random unfortunates in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Oh no. One of the places the Joker used to call “home” is Amusement Mile. Which is no longer derelict, thanks to Dick. It's been a bustling hub of entertainment for two months now.
Of course, it's only one possibility, but it does follow the directional pattern. If the psychopath stays on course. There is no guarantee of that happening. Joker can be very random. But Bruce has to do something to try and get ahead of him.
The Batmobile flies along the streets of the city, still quite busy for 10pm on a Thursday night. It doesn't matter. He deftly weaves through the traffic, heading for what he hopes and fears is the Clown's next destination. He has to be right.
When he gets closer to his objective he has to park. The funhouse isn't near any of the fire lanes. He has to get out here and make his way on foot. His spine itches, not with the feeling of someone behind him, but with the knowledge that no matter what, this will be bad. The Bat is too much of a realist to hope that no one else will be hurt before he can subdue the clown.
The scream is the first sign that his fears are well founded. As people shriek and flee in a mindless stampede, Batman gives up all pretences of subtlety and dashes the rest of the way to the entrance of the funhouse.
The darkness, the mirrors, the monsters popping out, he’s expected all of it. At worst it's an annoying distraction that cost him precious seconds, as he focuses on finding his way to the center, where the Clown no doubt awaits.
When he finally reaches the center with its small stage, his heart drops. There are three dead bodies in the standing room before the stage. Above the carnage is the Joker, a cruel hand about the neck of a toddler as the psychopath carries on a one-sided conversation with the hysterical mother. Something about time having passed and the woman--Sandy--having been busy, he isn't sure and frankly it doesn't matter.
Before Batman can so much as pull a batarang, the Clown slowly swivels his head toward the vigilante in a creepy fashion, reminiscent of a b-rate horror movie. Those eyes fall on Batman and seemed to shine with an insane unholy glee.
“Oh good, you're finally here, Bats!” the maniac cackles. “Maybe YOU have the answers I'm looking for. You being a detective type and all.” He twirls his other hand carelessly. In it is a straight razor with a wickedly sharp edge. The motion of his hands results in the blade’s nicking the child's cheek. “Ooops! Hahahahaha!”
“Joker!” Batman roars. He's about to do something, take action somehow, when the world shatters with the sound of a gunshot.
The Clown doesn't make a sound as he topples over backwards, a hole where his left eye had been. Blood begins to pool under the fallen man's skull matting the hideous green hair before spreading beyond.
Batman looks over, stunned. There, before a small access alcove, stands Jason, one of his guns in hand.
#####
This entry was originally posted at http://aiyokusama.dreamwidth.org/24205.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: Batman (Comics)
Characters: Batman, Joker, Jason
Word Count: 1023
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: Not mine, mores the pity.
A/N: follows the ficlet Then and Now.
Dick is over in Europe on a case. Tim is with his Titans, doing something in a place that seems to be somewhere in Antarctica. Damian is out with a broken leg. The list of people he can call on for back up is vanishingly small. Still, there is nothing for it. The alarm has sounded, and Batman must answer. There are too many dangerous psychotics in Arkham; even one of them escaping is unacceptable. He has enough deaths on his conscience, from all the other times Joker, or Two-Face or someone else made a break for freedom and promptly resumed their murderous ways.
The car speeds toward the facility, easily passing the few cop cars also making their way to the sanitarium. Thankfully, when he pulls up, there is no smoke, no gaping holes in the walls. Well, that’s something at least.
No sooner does the car stop before the main door, than he is out and in the shadows, heading for Arkham's office. He needs to know who he is looking for.
Even in the well-lit hallway, no one takes notice of his dark shape; not one of the few moving around, for all the world looking rathre unconcerned. On the inside, everything is quiet. No barked orders, no rushing personnel. This isn't at all what he expected. Can it be a false alarm?
Letting himself into the office of one Jeremiah Arkham, the Bat faces the man he hopes has the answer.
When the bespectacled man in the white lab coat looks up, he isn't the least bit surprised to see his visitor. “Ah. You're here,” comes his blasé greeting.
“Who is it?” Batman growls, getting right to the point. He doesn't have time for games, and in his experience, the facility director is just as likely to engage in them as the inmates. How the man has retained his job is beyond the vigilante's understanding.
“Joker. Just him. We were able to lock everything down before anyone else could follow him into the sewers.” There should have been a note of pride in his statement but instead, there is only resignation.
A revolving door. All of his Robins have made that observation at one time or another, and Bruce can't disagree, but it is how things are. Fine, he'll track down the Joker yet again, and bring him back, once more playing his part in the melodrama. If he is very lucky, he will be able to manage it before any innocents lose their lives.
When Arkham glances at his papers again, the Bat takes the opportunity to leave unseen.
***
The trail is, unfortunately, easy to follow. There are bodies. So many bodies. But the Joker doesn't stay in one place long enough. Bruce isn't sure what he's after. Something. …Something of his? So far, the Clown has been crashing his own haunts and killing whoever he finds there. Some of the dead are former henchmen. Others are just random unfortunates in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Oh no. One of the places the Joker used to call “home” is Amusement Mile. Which is no longer derelict, thanks to Dick. It's been a bustling hub of entertainment for two months now.
Of course, it's only one possibility, but it does follow the directional pattern. If the psychopath stays on course. There is no guarantee of that happening. Joker can be very random. But Bruce has to do something to try and get ahead of him.
The Batmobile flies along the streets of the city, still quite busy for 10pm on a Thursday night. It doesn't matter. He deftly weaves through the traffic, heading for what he hopes and fears is the Clown's next destination. He has to be right.
When he gets closer to his objective he has to park. The funhouse isn't near any of the fire lanes. He has to get out here and make his way on foot. His spine itches, not with the feeling of someone behind him, but with the knowledge that no matter what, this will be bad. The Bat is too much of a realist to hope that no one else will be hurt before he can subdue the clown.
The scream is the first sign that his fears are well founded. As people shriek and flee in a mindless stampede, Batman gives up all pretences of subtlety and dashes the rest of the way to the entrance of the funhouse.
The darkness, the mirrors, the monsters popping out, he’s expected all of it. At worst it's an annoying distraction that cost him precious seconds, as he focuses on finding his way to the center, where the Clown no doubt awaits.
When he finally reaches the center with its small stage, his heart drops. There are three dead bodies in the standing room before the stage. Above the carnage is the Joker, a cruel hand about the neck of a toddler as the psychopath carries on a one-sided conversation with the hysterical mother. Something about time having passed and the woman--Sandy--having been busy, he isn't sure and frankly it doesn't matter.
Before Batman can so much as pull a batarang, the Clown slowly swivels his head toward the vigilante in a creepy fashion, reminiscent of a b-rate horror movie. Those eyes fall on Batman and seemed to shine with an insane unholy glee.
“Oh good, you're finally here, Bats!” the maniac cackles. “Maybe YOU have the answers I'm looking for. You being a detective type and all.” He twirls his other hand carelessly. In it is a straight razor with a wickedly sharp edge. The motion of his hands results in the blade’s nicking the child's cheek. “Ooops! Hahahahaha!”
“Joker!” Batman roars. He's about to do something, take action somehow, when the world shatters with the sound of a gunshot.
The Clown doesn't make a sound as he topples over backwards, a hole where his left eye had been. Blood begins to pool under the fallen man's skull matting the hideous green hair before spreading beyond.
Batman looks over, stunned. There, before a small access alcove, stands Jason, one of his guns in hand.
#####
This entry was originally posted at http://aiyokusama.dreamwidth.org/24205.html. Please comment there using OpenID.