Slipping Into Entropy - Part 29
Joker was silent on the trip up, slowly growing more tense as he tried to steel himself for what was to come. Such a little thing shouldn't have meant anything to a creature that didn't fear death or pain, but it left knots in his stomach nonetheless. Sighing unhappily and tugging on a few grass-colored strands of hair, he turned resentful eyes back towards Bruce. "...I suppose you'll be wanting me to bleach this?" he grumbled.
Glancing back, Bruce realized that he'd gotten so used to the Joker's hair that next to his other eccentricities, he had forgotten about it completely. "That would be best. Unless you want to wear a hat all day."
They reached the surface and made their way to the house, where construction was progressing nicely. Bruce took a towel from the bathroom, noticed the Joker's expression, and then showed him the pool room. The windows and a part of the roof still had to be installed, but the structure itself was in perfect working order. He sat down at a pool-side table, took out his phone, and tossed the towel over to the other man. "Either or. Your call."
Crouching down at the edge, the turning wheels in his head almost visible as he considered his options, Joker finally started stripping his clothes off without a word. Glaring at Bruce one last time to make his contempt for the whole thing plainly known, he slid into the shallow end of the pool, ignoring the chilly temperature.
As soon as he was in the water, he didn't so much swim as walk along the bottom. Going forward until he was completely beneath the surface, he sank down and settled at the bottom of the pool, stretched out along the pale tile.
Bruce watched out of the corner of his eye as he made arrangements with a hotel in Chicago and the local airport. Since he already had a jet at the manor, not mention the less interaction the Joker had with his staff, the better, Bruce didn't mind flying out there himself.
The Joker still wasn't surfacing. Standing up, still on the phone, Bruce moved to the side of the pool and peered over the ledge.
The man was still motionless at the bottom, his back against the floor as he floated in the water's eerie suspension. Eyes still closed, he reached sideways, turning and pulling himself across the tiles before pushing off with his feet, finally breaking the surface and grabbing onto the ledge around the pool. Green hair soaked and flat against his head, Joker turned his gaze to the curious man peering at him. "...enough?" he snapped, eager to get out of the water and dry out.
He looked like a thing coming out of a swamp, and Bruce stared for a moment, before he sighed. "I don't suppose it would be a small task to ask you to brush your teeth?" At a suddenly miffed tone in his ear, Bruce quickly apologized and let the airport director off the line, gesturing to the Joker that it was alright for him to leave the pool.
Pulling himself out of the water, he shook himself off in a canine-like motion, grabbing the towel that Bruce had tossed at him and swiping it hurriedly over his skin. It seemed like he couldn't wait to get the damp off of his skin. Luckily, the worst of the dirt and grime had come off in the water, and what was left of his makeup came off on the cloth as he dried his face.
"Better," Bruce commented. Joker's clothes were a mess though, and Bruce was sorry to say that they wouldn't be able to find either bleach nor garments that fit his companion's "tastes" here. There was however, food in the house. Joker was just going to have to wait until they arrived at his old stomping grounds for the rest. "I'll be in the kitchen."
Pulling on the wretched, dirty old garments to try to warm up again, Joker watched him leave, then went to sit over in a patch of sun by the poolside. This better be worth all the fuss, Bat.
It wasn't long after that Bruce returned with just about everything he could find in the refrigerator. "I've got some clothes you can use in the meantime on the plane." He was pretty sure the staff kept a deck of cards and various other games on board for long flights as well. "Let's go."
Uncurling from his window of daylight, the green haired man glanced over his shoulder, stretching as he sized up the food Bruce had brought from the kitchen. "You're certainly in a hurry. What are you planning on doing?" Padding closer, he peered curiously at the packages in the man's arms.
"Flying," Bruce deadpanned. "We'll have dinner once we get there, and you can get some clothes. After that? All I want is tour of the city."
"My tour of the city?" Joker laughed, trying to imagine the stern-faced Bruce being dragged along behind him through the mazes of the slums and undercity, unable to switch into being the Batman and forceably repress him from carrying out any antics. "And this would please you? If I'm going to be taking you through the gates of hell, you'll have to play follow the leader. No Bat, and no stuffed shirt. You'll have to blend."
"That's what I'm asking," Bruce said, and he was serious. He knew the Joker hadn't been in Gotham long. Barely long enough to set up a base of operations. And he had so many questions....
"Be careful what you ask for, Batsy," the madman sang back, stepping closer and waiting for Bruce to lead the way to the plane. He wondered just how much the dark knight would want to see, how far he'd be willing to go into the dark before he could take no more.
Bruce didn't back down. Accepting the Joker's caution, he gathered supplies, and three duffel bags of Batman's equipment later, they headed out the door. The jet was kept in a small hanger a ways away from the house; a long walk, or a short drive. Bruce opened the wide doors of the building and unlocked the plane's hatch, finding a small space for his bags and dumping lunch into it's small refrigerator. He had to move aside a small horde of stocked liquor to fit it all in.
Following shortly after, Joker climbed inside the jet, exploring the cabin inside. Casting a longing look at all the panels full of levers and buttons in the cockpit, he slid into an empty passenger's seat, watching Bruce move things about and stow all the luggage for the trip.
Finally, Bruce planted himself in the pilot's seat and began flipping flipping those switches, bringing the aircraft to life. It had been a while since he'd flown this jet, he usually had a pilot and even a small staff of stewards, but he loved flying. He relished the opportunity, even one under strained circumstances was better than no opportunity at all. They pulled slowly out of the hanger, and then gunned it down the short runway, picking up speed and shooting off into the air smoothly.
His eyes flicking towards Bruce, watching until the man was distracted, Joker quietly opened the fridge and snatched a few things and one of the moved bottles of vodka from the little box. Moving towards the back of the plane, he slipped into the jet's small bathroom, his stolen goodies and the makeup supplies in hand. Locking the door, he moved quickly, wanting to get the disguise work over with.
They had little trouble making progress; the skies were clear and almost cloudless. Bruce was very much in his element. He watched the Joker go, but didn't get the feeling that he'd try to pull anything while out of sight. They had a bit of a journey ahead of them, from the east coast into the midwest, but so far, things were going smoothly. He could only hope for as much when they reached their destination.
It always bothered him to hide the scars; it was like destroying part of who he was, sinking him back to the same bovine mentality of the rest of the human herd as they neurotically tried to fit in and match each other. It took away his screaming rebellion against where he'd been trapped years before, hid that memento from spitting in the devil's eye. Worst of all way the end result, looking at the face he'd come to hate, whispers still running through his mind wondering whether the sight might make another try to trap and chain him.
Filling in the ravaged valleys and painting normal coloring over the latex, he turned his gaze away from the mirror and concentrated instead on his pilfered goods. It wasn't anything fancy: a couple of breadrolls, a small wheel of some sort of cheese, packaged meat of some kind. Breaking the seal on the bottle of vodka and taking a pull, he attacked the food like a starving man.
About an hour into the journey, Joker still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Bruce put the plane on autopilot for a few minutes and dove into the food stock as well. He left the liquor alone, but he was getting extremely hungry. He took it back to the cockpit and only occasionally glanced over his shoulder at the closed door at the back of the craft.
The lunatic, meanwhile, was busily filling his veins with liquid poison after filling his stomach to his satisfaction. It was a welcome change, making all the noise in his head quiet slowly until it was just a dim buzzing in the background, beneath his notice. Nothing seemed to matter much anymore at that point, the world just a chaotic movie passing by in a swirl of color, noise and motion. Shoving the food wrappers into the bathroom's small garbage, Joker fumbled at the lock before it slid, allowing the door to open. Stumbling out, he dropped into the nearest seat, capped bottle still clutched in one hand.
Hearing the clatter come up behind him, Bruce twisted around and did a bit of a double take. Though he hadn't changed his dingy clothes, the Joker's new appearance was.....startling. Startling because he looked so normal, with smooth and unscathed skin. The dark circles that constantly hid under his eyes evened out to match a uniform skin tone. His natural coloring was even just this side of tan. Bruce didn't try to hide his gaze as he took in the sight. To him, it was utterly disturbing.
Joker was oblivious to his audience for once, unscrewing the cap on the bottle and taking another swig of clear liquor. Leaning against the wall of the plane, he stared vacantly out the port window, watching the surreal landscape of the heavens slide by underneath metal wings.
Bruce took his eyes off the Joker and put them back on the big, open, empty space ahead of them. The land below was gradually changing, lakes and bodies of water were popping up all over the place and it wouldn't be much longer until they'd pass over the great lakes. Another hour crawled by.
Bottle still in hand, Joker seemed to finally recall that he wasn't alone on the plane. Shakily making it to his feet, he shambled unsteadily towards the front, tripping on the way and literally falling into a chair beside Bruce. Righting himself, he stared at the billionaire with an intent, surprisingly open gaze before speaking. "....ssso. Whatsis all really about, Br-...Bat? Thinking of exsss..tending your terr'tory? Or is thisss all jusst you yankin' my chain t'ssee what happins? Famousss detective'ss big experiment?"
Glancing over, Bruce found that he couldn't look at the Joker for very long the way he was now. He turned his eyes back on the curve of the earth. He thought it over for a while, responses formed in his mind, but none seemed to fit the situation. "I want you to show me where you came from. What you did before you came to "my territory"." Experiment. He couldn't call it that. An experiment was something one could walk away from when it was over, unaffected. He knew that couldn't happen. "You can call me a detective, yes. But this is not an experiment."
Dilated eyes still fixed on Bruce's face, his face crinkled into an oddly normal grin. "Detectivin'? And what exssactly are you hoping t'get from this...great revelasshun? Why d'you care about any of it?"
Bruce looked like he was sitting in the dentist's chair, waiting for his teeth to be pulled. "If you want me, or any sort of truce to happen between us, then i need to know who you are." He stared doggedly ahead of him. "That's what I do. And that's what you'll get."
"I already have yew, Brusss. You're juss' holdin' out on yer word b'cause you don' like what yew prom'sed," the drunk man laughed, petting a hand through Bruce's hair like one might a wayward but favorite child. "'m not th'one bein' what I'm not most' th'time." Amused as another thought slowly seeped into his inebriated brain, he peered even closer, leaning until he was right in front of Bat, gazing up at his face. "...who d'ye think I am, then, if yer not sso...sssertain?"
"......'I am not what I am'," Bruce mused, his eyes slipping closed for a brief moment. "Oh no...... You're far too much of an Iago for it to be as simple as that. I want to see for myself." Finally Bruce looked down on the Joker. His hands still held the controls, but it wasn't necessary. He thought the Joker was a lot of things. As close to "evil" as he'd known a person to be, and he didn't really even believe in evil. Yet, that didn't sum him up either. He could be Kali, a god of destruction. A sociologist might describe him as a self seeking devicive force. A psychologist might describe him as a mass mind, with intellect beyond himself. The despair of human possibility. There was a niche for him in every level of Hell. And still, his motives, whatever they were besides what he proclaimed them to be, were elusive. Bruce looked back out the window. "Here you are, and it's a beautiful day. Well. I just don't understand it."
Smiling and chuckling in return, Joker leaned up and kissed him lightly, reeking heavily of alcohol. "Now yer gettin' it," he murmured in praise, nearly losing his balance before he shuffled backwards and made himself comfortable in the co-pilot seat. "See to yer heart's content, Batsssy. Just take care yer eyess don' bleed. 'Mem'riess an' possssibil'tiess are ever more hideousss th'n realitiesss.'"
Bruce didn't want to be reminded of how awful "what could have been"s could be, so he made no comment besides a slight incline of the head. Funny enough, the alcohol Joker consumed wasn't as bad as what his mouth could have tasted like. Though it smelled, it was actually killing most of the taste.
They were entering the suburb area now, and it wouldn't be long before he'd be able to set the plane down. The Joker was pliantly resting back, and Bruce was forming one idea after another. He'd arranged for a cab to pick them up at the airport, to take them wherever they wanted to go before they headed to the hotel.
"Bat." The word was put forth like a command, demanding the darker man's attention. "Yer word tha' yew won' try any heroicsss while we're there. No interfer'ing. Y'wanna know, y'get the whole package or nothin'. You follow my lead. Do tha', I take yew where'er you wanna go. Deal?"
Dark eyes swiveled to the Joker, and Bruce moved not a muscle more. He was silent for a long time. Everything was eerily quiet. He could barely hear the Joker's breathing. The wind hummed outside as it rushed over the craft. "I won't go against my rule. And as long as you hold to our deal the best you can........then you have my word."
"If y'can behave...then ssso will I," he mumbled in agreement. Apparently satisfied, Joker leaned the chair back, his eyes sliding shut. He had no idea why Bat felt this was so very important, but if it got him what he wanted? He'd indulge the stubborn man for a bit, so long as he kept his word.
After radioing in to the Chicago port, their plane gradually made its descent. When they landed, away from the commercial aircraft, a small staff of stewards and technicians waited on the ground to greet and escort Mr. Wayne and his associates off the landing. Watching then warily, but waving cordially out the window, Bruce took a deep breath and stood. "Ready?"
Hoisting himself unsteadily to his feet, he shuffled over until he joined Bruce near the door that would soon open onto a set of stairs. His posture was nothing that one would expect of someone of high social standing, standing hunched with his shoulders rolled forward as always, the new set of clothes already rumpled and somewhat out of place. "Don' have any choice, now do I, Bat?" A thought occurred, and he shot the taller man a questioning glance. "...who'm I supposed t'be, exactly?"
"My no good, drunken, friend from Princeton U," Bruce said wryly while handing him a hat to tuck his hair under before the door opened. "We haven't seen each other in years, and thus, shall be out to paint the town red. Just remember, most of the people who work with me are paid to be discreet.....but not that discreet." The door swung open, and Bruce made for the stairs. "Anyone asks, your name's Barry. Barry White." Bruce straightened his collar and took off into the sun.
Blinking before stumbling after him, the madman tucked his hair behind his ears and into the hat pulled low over his face before plastering a drunken grin on his face. Skipping the stairs to get down, Joker slid sideways down the handrail, barely keeping his balance as he reached the end. "...oh. Another retinue. I hope yer not plannin' on bringing this many people with us th' entire time..."
Groaning inwardly, Bruce managed a "No.", and then they were barraged with attendants. "Welcome to Chicago, Mr. Wayne!" An overly congenial, and rather squat, balding man wearing a suit with the airport's tag pinned crookedly to his front pocket. His female assistant was staring at Joker and doing a very poor job of hiding it.
"I've got three bags behind the passenger's seat." One of the stockier attendants hurried up the steps and reappeared a moment later with Bruce's luggage, hauling it over his shoulder and down to follow the now moving group. They took a golf cart through the milling crowds of people in the port and out to the pickup area. The little balding man, who had introduced himself as some sort of representative of the local airlines, but served more as a welcoming committee wouldn't stop chattering until they'd met up with the taxi service Bruce had ordered and were tossing his luggage into the car.
Joker, meanwhile, had noticed the young lady's stare and had given her a cheeky wink, grinning at her. "Does yer boss alwayss talk s'much, sweetie? Y'should tell'im there's a pill he can take b'fore eatin' that cures that." The lunatic was having a blast so far; Bruce had agreed to, basically, do whatever he pleased so long as he didn't kill anyone. ...this is gonna be fun. Yammering on and continuously joking with and throwing jibes at the other men accompanying them, being a ridiculous flirt with the female assistant, his hands were ducking into nearby pockets whenever he succeeded in distracting the crowd.
Bruce watched it all very carefully. To him, the Joker looked extremely different, and even though he'd done a good job of pulling off normal, attractive even, Bruce was getting the feeling the girl he was making small talk with was getting that odd vibe, too. He was noticeably more quiet than usual, but made sure to carry on the easygoing banter here and there when necessary. When they were finally left to their cab, which was actually more of a small limo than a "cab", with only a driver to keep them company, Bruce was grateful. He knew the port staff would be missing their personal effects later, but with any luck they wouldn't trace it all back to this scene. If they did, well, he'd be happy to reimburse them for the trouble.
"So, where to?" asked the driver as Bruce pulled himself and the Joker along behind him inside of the car.
Throwing a friendly arm around Bruce, Joker seemed to pause and think, then turned a jovial look towards his companion. "What d'ye think, Brucey, izzit too early fer golf? I hear the Jackson Park Gold Club down near th' U is... quite the place. They even got a yacht harbor an' another club real close by. Whatcha say?"
"I say 'you're kidding'," Bruce replied, leaning back into his seat and squashing Joker's arm. "And unless you can swim better than you can sink, I wouldn't recommend the yachts." The driver was watching the banter with good humor through the rear view mirror. "Know of any good restaurants?"
He grinned and gave a sweeping gesture as he took his passengers out of the airport and onto the highway, headed straight east into the city. "I know lots of good restaurants."
Raising an eyebrow at that, his eyes flicked sideways. "Well, dear host, why don't you pick one you think I'll enjoy, then?" he asked. "I'm afraid it's been awhile since I've been in town, but I'm certain a look around will jolt my memory in no time."
"Take us downtown," Bruce said to the driver. Practically on the edge of Lake Michigan, with the help of the driver, Bruce directed them to a small seafood and steak outfit. It was certainly better dining than he assumed the Joker was used to, but even so, he suspected it might fit the man's tastes. As evening descended with the sun, their driver dropped them off among a small throng, and Bruce led the way inside.
Joker was taken by surprise again as they stopped at a ritzy lakeside restaurant, a small crowd immediately appearing and making a fuss over the famous Bruce Wayne gracing the premises. It was uncomfortable. He was used to being the center of attention himself, but in a way he could use to manipulate and distract others while doing what he wished, then disappearing when he needed to. This crowd seemed to endlessly replenish itself, a never-ending line of socialites, and he was hardly the center. He wouldn't have normally minded, using the opportunity to pick a few pockets, but each woman that stepped forward to give Bruce a friendly greeting only made his hackles rise even more.
"...I know how you love to chat and network, Bruce, but there'll be plenty of time for that later. D'you think we could get a table with a little bit of privacy?"
Bruce raised an eyebrow as they entered, stepping through the crowd. "I thought you would be thrilled. Afraid to try something new?" He could easily see how stiff and furtive the Joker walked, glancing and glaring around, but doing nothing to attract attention either. Bruce got the feeling that he didn't want to. He watched Joker squirm with a certain kind of satisfaction. He wanted to take the man out of his comfort zone, at least for a while. Maybe in anticipation of what he would have to do for the Joker very soon. He didn't know.
"Do you have any more...private settings?" Bruce asked the host who led them straight away to a balcony on the second floor, sequestered from the rest of the dining area, and took their orders.
Despite his snuck food on the plane, the slighter man didn't seem to have a lack of appetite. Rather, once he seemed to ascertain that he could order whatever he wanted, he didn't seem to know what to pick. He finally seemed to settle on what he already knew was good: rare steak with the usual accoutrements. The waiter seemed a bit surprised at the request for a side bowl of cherry tomatoes, but knew better than to express it; the rich could be a kooky lot.
After Bruce ordered and they were left alone, he sat back and observed the Joker. He was hunched in on himself and looking a little like he'd been stranded on Mars. It was interesting that he had no problem taking over Bruce's swanky hotel back in Gotham, making small talk with the suits and enjoying the appetizers, yet when forced to play quiet, he was a fish out of water.
His eyes darting about the room nervously, Joker licked his lips, trying his best to continue to put forth an air of bravado while obviously deeply uncomfortable with the situation. That charming smile came out whenever a waiter moved by close enough to see them, dying as soon as they were out of sight past the curtains and he and Bruce were alone again. Fixing his green eyes on the candle flame so he wouldn't have to think too much about their surroundings or watch Bruce watching him, he seemed unable to sit still, fidgeting until the table knife seemed to spring of its own accord into his fingers, turning over and over again in the light.
The only thing Bruce was uncomfortable with was Joker's.....appearance. He was too, too......good looking? Did that even make sense? With the makeup his skin smoothed out and his hair pulled back, he looked years younger. Maybe not up to model standards, but definitely......not....right.
Unbidden, he wondered how many people before Bruce had thought that about the Joker.
When their food came, Bruce had something else to focus his attention.
Joker had another moment of awkwardness at the clash of two worlds a few minutes into their dinner once the waiters had left. He dug into the red, bloody meat like a starved man, as if afraid that his food was going to suddenly disappear or he'd soon be facing famine. He froze once he noticed Bruce staring, forcing himself to move slower, watching what the other man did with his tableware before mimicking him.
Bruce should have expected that, and suddenly he was glad Joker asked to move somewhere more private. He was, however, surprised to see Joker catching on after a minute or two. They ate in silence. Both were hungry.
Afterward, Bruce paid their bill and they eased out onto the street where their driver had been waiting. He was paid extra and happy to do so. They drove off once again, and not much later reached the towering hotel.
For once, it seemed like Joker had lost his sniping, witty tongue; he killed without a lick of shame, but fell into embarrassment at his lack of experience with societal manners. Gazing up at the heights of the splendid hotel where a room had been hastily booked, he found himself wishing to get out of sight once again, back into the shadows to change and slink away into a setting he was more accustomed to.
They rode their way to the top floor, Bruce had gotten an entire penthouse at their disposal. A bellboy took their meager luggage, and as soon as he was gone, Bruce packed the bags away from immediate view. They had a fully stocked fridge, a pool, a large balcony, and an grand entertainment system, a spacious bathroom, a game room, and Bruce hadn't checked the bedroom yet. Needless to say, anything they needed, they'd be able to get it. Honestly, he doubted they'd spend much time here at all though.
Joker immediately peeled off the most presentable clothing he'd been put in, rummaging through what clothing had been brought in search of something more comfortable. "...best change out of that. Were we're going, you'll get someone trying to mug you in two seconds after spying you in that." Pulling on a more ragged, baggy set of clothes that had seen better days, he took the tie out of his hair and shook it loose, going to the window to try to get his bearings and figure out where to go first.
Without a word Bruce took a pair clothes from recently after his Princeton days out of one of the duffle bags. Jeans that had gone through more mud than clean air on the streets of Gotham, a tank top, and a dark jacket accompanied him to the bathroom, and a few minutes later he came out with his hair slicked back and a light mustache.
Replacing the hat Bruce had lent him, Joker explored the premises, picking up seemingly random objects and adding them to his pockets: a piece of cord there, a left calling card, knives from the kitchenette, knicks and knacks from different corners of the suite. Finishing his round, he strutted up to Bruce, more confident now that they'd be entering his element. "...are you ready?" he murmured, his eyes glinting oddly as he looked up at his disguised companion.
Bruce set down the bag after one last rummage through, pocketing a few small items as the Joker had, and met the man's gaze. "Ready." He wondered if anyone from the past would recognize Joker, or if he wanted anyone to. The odd match of green tinted hair with unmarked skin was throwing Bruce's mind in a loop.
The devilish smile appeared again on his face, confident grin of yellowed teeth and insane gleam in his eyes strange in a face untwisted by ragged scars. He could simply have been taken for a somewhat normal, handsome stranger had he not had that glow of internal madness radiating from his eyes. Beckoning him forward with the crook of a finger, Joker moved to the doorway, opening the door a crack and checking the hallway before exiting the room in silence. Rather than make a grand exit in full view of the hotel staff by using the elevator, he decided to risk being seen and take a side stairwell down to the bottom floor.