Slipping Into Entropy - Part 10
The ride to the station felt like it took forever; the back of the truck was uncomfortable, boring, a dull unbroken shade of pale gray as far as the eye could see. Minus the windows, of course. Every time he got to his feet to pace off the little box the car seemed to go around a curve, throwing him into the nearest metal wall as his balance was stolen. In the end he decided to just lie on the dirty floor, rolling back and forth with the movement of the vehicle until they arrived at the station.
The police had, apparently, drawn lots to see who would have the distasteful task of getting him out and to a cell, as well. A terrified rookie and an equally unnerved vet hesitantly pulled him from the truck while a few others covered them, guns in hand. They weren't taking any chances with him anymore.
Even as they poked and prodded and dragged him to the securest cell they had, others manning the station blanched and retreated a considerable distance as he passed by. Their reactions only caused the skinny man to chuckle to himself. Always so afraid of the unknown... It was one of the things he despised in others, their inability to overcome such a simple fear. He worked at breaking down the walls of "sanity" and "civility", restricted thinking... and some just resisted with amazing tenacity in their set ways.
Other prisoners grew quiet in their cells as the little group neared the solitary holding pen at the end of the hall, whispering between themselves. Pushing the Joker into the reinforced cage and locking the door in a hurry, the relieved coppers looked surprised that their captive hadn't put up a fight.
Cockier now that their captive was behind bars and emboldened by what he took to be a huge success, the rookie copper banged one fist against the bars, smirking. "'ey, now. I thought you were supposed to be the scariest crook ever to hit the streets. Y'don't look so scary to me, scarface. Didn't have a backup plan for when we surrounded you?"
Walking calmly up to the bars, Joker was strangely straight-faced, watching the older cop sweat as his younger partner continued to shoot his mouth. "...finished?" Quieting as the criminal spoke, obviously expecting a verbal reply, a skinny arm shot out between the bars, grabbing a couple of fingers of the offending hand and jerking. There was a sickening pop and a howl of pain as he dislocated the digits and tore the fragile ligaments within. "Don't brag until you're sure you have a winning hand. Eheheh..."
Alfred knew he'd misinterpreted Bruce's statement the moment his expression fell. The Wayne heir looked speechless, more like that little boy he'd once known than he'd seen him in years. "Alfred...." Bruce's voice was far from choked, but the old man could hear the desperation in it just the same. "I can't- I WON'T - do that." Bruce looked and felt more lost than he had since he'd returned to Gotham. "There has to be another way," he looked to Lucius, "I need a microphone and a recording device...."
Lucius nodded, still silent.
Bruce turned his attention back to Alfred, but he felt like he was addressing all three of them. "I'm not going to break that rule. Not yet. Not for a very, very long time to come." He was finding his voice, and courage, once more. "The Joker thinks he can scare me enough to end this whole thing and kill him. He's doing everything he can to push me, to frighten me. He's got the company, he's got Batman's name, he's got the media under his thumb, and he's trying to get me to cross the line. But he is NOT going to be in control here, I won't allow it. I refuse to be used."
Finished with his tirade, Bruce set about gathering tools and piecing together a plan of action. Alfred's heart fell in the meantime. Lucius went out for supplies that Bruce listed off the top of his head. It was easy to see that he didn't have much of a plan at this point. Every once in a while he would pause and stretch or crack his neck. Alfred knew the little tells.
"Do you plan to wait until your two days are up sir, or will you be handing your reputation over tonight?" Bruce shot a scathing look at his butler. "Well then, I'll be off to get some popcorn and the television remote," with that Alfred left, obviously cross, but not so much as Bruce who threw a batarang at the door once the butler was out of earshot.
Yelping and cussing the bastard out, the hot-blooded youth made a grab through the bars for Joker... only for the same thing to happen to his other hand. Pulling the screaming kid away from the cell, his partner dragged the rookie away, looking both spooked and furious. Joker, in return, had stolen the young cop's smirk, backing up to sit on a cot that barely deserved the name. He could distantly hear arguments as the rest of the officers tried to decide what to do with him - teach him a lesson for assaulting an officer, leave him be until Arkham could come stick him with something...
He shrugged, slipping sideways to roll onto his back, eyes staring blankly at the monotone ceiling. It didn't really matter what they did. He'd put things in motion, and if there was one thing he was well-versed in, it was natural laws. Momentum couldn't be so easily stopped. The Bat would come, one way or another.
Bruce was adding and replacing gadgets on the utility belt when he got a call from the front desk. Surprise, surprise, Commissioner Gordon himself was waiting in the lobby to meet with the Joker's latest target. Grimacing, Bruce hid away the belt and other items in the storage unit behind the wall and took the elevator down. He used the ride to get back into his Mr. Oblivious zone. He unbuttoned his collar a little, and loosened his shoulders. When he and Gordon shook hands, officially it was the second time they'd met.
"You've got a knack for winding up in the middle of the Joker's path, Mr. Wayne," offered Gordon, and Bruce could tell he didn't necessarily mean to give him the third degree. Still, Bruce agreed uncomfortably, letting his eyes dart away from Gordon's. Gordon would expect him to be pretty shaken up.
"You're telling me." He led the commissioner over to get some coffee. "I've got my best men looking into his accusations. So far we're not sure what he's talking about."
Gordon took the cup Bruce offered him like a reflex without thought. "I know you've already given a statement about that at the scene, but," he looked uncomfortable, "well, every time the Joker's been involved in a situation like this, things didn't turn out so well. I want to have you covered from here on out. We'll have our best men on the job; they can be with you at all times. We'd rather not have a repeat of the last time he threatened civilians for the sake of finding Batman."
Stomach turning, Bruce stared into his own cup of coffee. "You've got a lot more to worry about than keeping watch over me, Commissioner," he said solemnly, looking up at Gordon without moving his head. He paused. "Do you think Batman will come for him?"
Now it was Gordon's time to look uncomfortable. "I think Batman will do....what needs to be done." Finally he took a drink, if only to break the tension, and brought the subject back to Bruce. "Still, we've got you covered."
Bruce allowed the commissioner's men to stake out his property, and he allowed them to follow him to his penthouse, but he drew the line at letting them do more than look through the rooms quickly. It wouldn't be worth his trouble to put up a fight about it, not when he could just as easily disappear into the very walls of the building. One or two of his newly assigned guards immediately took to Alfred, who was ignoring Bruce shamelessly. He liked to hope the old man was taking up conversation to provide distraction, rather than to get on his nerves.
Once he'd kicked the officers out of his private area, Bruce escaped into the hidden rooms of the penthouse, donning the suit and gathering up the items he'd been packing earlier. He rode a small lift to the rooftop and from there took off into the sky. The sun was setting, and though most of its rays shined far too brightly in his eyes, he could still appreciate the view.
He'd learned from Gordon, trying to calm a frazzled Bruce's nerves earlier, where they'd taken the Joker. Upon arriving at the station, the sun had finally reached its descent, and he slipped past guards unnoticed.
Gods, but he hoped something would happen soon. He'd already seen everything that was to be seen in the little cell; every texture, the way the light fell, the tiny scratches in the metal and brick. He forced himself to stay still on the cot, only letting his fingers wander to the edge to pick at the tacky, plastic edging of the mattress. It wouldn't do for them to figure that little piece out, no. They shouldn't, couldn't see him sweat. Bored, flat look inscribed across his features, the monster paced through his mind instead of the cell, the tiniest quiver of anxiety pushed down and ignored.
He continued quietly shredding whatever came easily within reach, using the destruction to sooth his nerves. He couldn't even quite remember why this churning dread started, from whence it came... just what made it go away. He took a deep breath, the movement making the scabbed-over cuts sting and itch; a welcome reminder that he was still alive, this was still real. He was beginning to wish he'd thought ahead and hidden his cards somewhere the cops wouldn't have found.
Moving inside the building was more difficult than Batman would have liked. He used a batarang to distract two guards away from their posts, and a video transmitter Lucius had wired up for him to loop the security footage being routed to the operations room at every corner. The police would notice eventually, but it would buy him some time. Before he reached the Joker's cell, he paused, around the corner and out of sight. He could hear the man well enough. Sounds of fabric ripping echoed softly down the hall.
It still wasn't enough. Slipping back to his feet, he paced off the tiny space, long, broken fingernails scratching across the walls and bars beside him as he walked. When the other prisoners started whispering again, louder this time, he fixed them with a murderous glare, silencing the hallway again except for the small sounds of him picking at the room that contained him. It wasn't noticeable by a normal person, but electronic amplifications picked up the audio clues quite easily; rapid heartbeat, short and shallow breathing to match, a quiver in his step.
There was always something "off" about the Joker. Batman had never been able to tell what was a normal form of existence for him. At times he seemed indestructible, at others Batman had seen him too weak to move, and he never really got rid of a nervous tick here or there. Right now, the Joker seemed....unsettled, if anything. Batman wanted to say anxious, the sensors in his ears were doing a good job of relaying the man's movements back to him, but he didn't like to put much stock in how the Joker "appeared" to be. Silently, he moved forward, letting the light from the hall fall across his features just enough for the other man to notice. His cell was at the end of the hall, the other prisoners wouldn't be able to see the black clad figure unless he moved further down a ways. As it was, he stood outside of the bars, barely farther than arm's reach away.
Catching sight of the black outline as he finished another round of his circuit, a smile rose to the surface again, smug pleasure filtering into his eyes as a wave of ... something ... washed through him. Relief? Perhaps. The Bat was here, and sooner than he would have thought. Apparently the threat he'd dangled over the man's head was just too much. "Well. Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me? You must have. You're ahead of schedule..." As much as his heartbeat had flickered and changed at Batman's appearance, something was still off, signaling tension where the madman showed none, either facially or in his body language.
Batman simply thought he was insane. He hadn't been able to discern a pattern from the Joker's behavior, physical or otherwise, besides the focus on himself. "You think I'm here to rescue you? After everything you've done, to me, to this city and its people, you think....I'm going to let that go, and break you free?" His tone was calm, calmer than Batman felt inside, almost inviting.
He rushed forward to grab the bars, laughing seemingly without a care. He seemed almost drunk on himself, stretching and leaning back as far as his arms would allow him before straightening, pressing his forehead against the iron. "You don't really have a choice, Batsy. There are only so many things you can do at this point, and any way you go, I win..." It was disturbing, seeing the man that close without his usual clothing, the facepaint giving clues to his insanity. It was a bit like seeing a rabid dog peering out of a scarred, but normal, human face, masquerading as a man only until it got close enough to bite and rip things to shreds.
Without moving from his position, Batman let his eyes wander of the Joker. He'd come to expect the paint with the madman as one would expect him to have arms and legs. Without it, the madman looked very disturbing. Batman took it all in; the police hadn't issued him a uniform yet, he was still in the suit he wore to Bruce Wayne's press conference. His hair had fallen out of place though; a lot of it was in his eyes without the grease to hold it back. Batman didn't like doing so, but he found it fascinating. It was almost another form completely. Finally he moved forward, stepping into the Joker's space.
"I won't make this that easy for you," he said softly, barely hinting at the usual growl.
His lips curled up into a feral grin. "It wouldn't be any fun if it was too easy. If you weren't such a stubborn bastard, why would I bother playing with you?" His fingers stroked up the bar, green eyes darting, taking in little details before finally locking with his adversary's gaze. His tongue darted out unconsciously, waiting for what the other man would do.
"Then enjoy your time in prison." Batman refused to let the edge of his lip turn up in a smile until he turned from the Joker and walked away. He hadn't been able to resist it, coming here as he did without a plan, or at least not much of one. But the Joker had given him two nights to break him out, and Batman just wanted......what? To taunt him now that he had some bit of leverage over the man? Maybe. But the visit still gave him a layout of the land and the building's security. Nevertheless, the image of the Joker, up against the cell bars, clinging to them and looking wantonly after him would stay in his mind for hours to come. If he was going to be dealing with this man, he needed to understand him better than he did.
The smile slipped from his face, rattling the bars as the taller man just... walked away. He...he can't do that, he can't... "You can't do that! You can't-" ...can he?? "I'll tell them, I'll tell them everything, they won't even have to play to get it..." Sliding down into a mournful crouch, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the bars, trying vainly to bend them out of existence.
As Batman shut the door leading into the stairwell, he couldn't prevent the grin sliding across his face. Let the madman suffer for a night; he'd caused more than enough trouble for Bruce. Once in the air again, Batman headed for Gordon's signal, hoping the commissioner would be there. They hadn't talked in some time, and....he needed some help from the inside before he returned to the Joker.
It was too much; he'd thought he'd read the other man so well, no matter how complicated his inner workings appeared to be. The rest of the inmates in the cells further down shivered and tried to move as far away as possible as something screamed and rattled the bars of its cage at the end of the hall, fighting to get out. Alerted by the noise, the cell warden came to investigate, jaw dropping as he spotted what the commotion was about. "...what in the...hell?"
The newest captive appeared to be in a frenzy, seeming to see no difference between clawing at himself and at the door to his prison. He'd already broken his nails from scratching at the hinges and lock, lines of red swiped across his face and clothing as he yelled. The warden'd never seen anything like it before, not even from inmates who knew they'd probably be looking at Death Row or a life sentence. Hand going down to his walkie, he had to fumble with the black box with nerveless fingers to get it to work. "Hey, um... HQ, this is Gary. We've got a problem with #103 on the C block, over. You're not gonna believe this..."
Batman was in luck, the signal was up tonight, and Gordon was waiting for him. For once he didn't hide his entrance though the commissioner still looked surprised to see him. "So you've seen the news then," was all Gordon said before Batman took over the conversation.
"I need you to get some information for me." Gordon gave a nod at the gruff tone. "The Joker's files from Arkham. Anything else you can find. Make sure you get everything you can."
Still Gordon looked sour, "I can tell you for a fact that we don't have any records before the ones they kept on him in Arkham."
"Anything will help."
Over time, Gordon had been getting a better sense of when Batman was going to disappear on him, so he blurted the last out quickly, "Are you going to do what he says? For Wayne?" To him, it didn't make any sense, unless Wayne Enterprises had something on the Batman, or the Joker was threatening more than just the Wayne company. Then again, maybe Batman didn't want to see one of Gotham's most charitable organizations slandered.
Batman paused. "If I have to, don't expect to get him back in one piece." With that, he disappeared from the commissioner's sight.
The police station was in chaos. There had been curious officers and staff, of course, when they brought him in; there was a sort of grotesque pull to the man, like watching a living train wreck in motion. The cell ward was now crowded, however, watching as the man tore himself apart while seeking to breach the cell. No logic or attempts at communicating seemed to be working.
There was a small huddle of senior officers at the doorway, weighing their options. "...jeezus. We have to figure out something. If he keeps going like this, he could kill himself." The speaker paused, not wanting to voice the thought that passed between them all. Small loss, that'd be. "We're charged with his safety once he gets taken into custody. If something happens to him, it's our precinct that'll be blamed."
"Yeah, well, what do you want us to do? He's not listening, and I sure as hell ain't going in there." The other staff murmured in agreement, even the lab staff who got called to occasionally patch up injured prisoners when taken into custody. "You saw what he did to the nurse that usually drugged him in Arkham..."
It was too much to hope for that the raving lunatic would knock himself out before doing any serious damage. As it was, nobody wanted to go into the cell and risk life and limb, either.
One of the brighter staff members called Animal Control, holding a hasty conversation with a gruff voice on the other end of the line. After a few minutes of pleading, an agreement was made to let the station borrow some of their equipment... as a favor. Hanging up the phone and alerting someone at the front to watch for a van to pull up, the skinny technician hurried to the back to sort through what supplies they might have.
Grabbing a handful of the little clear vials as the receptionist walkied him, the lab analyst ran back to the front of the station. Heaving a sigh of relief at the sight that greeted him, he walked forward with one empty hand outstretched. "Man, are we ever glad to see y-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cut the crap. This th' stuff you wanted?" The grungy dogcatcher hefted the tranquilizer gun, giving the distinct impression that he only cared about getting back outside for a smoke.
"...uh... y-yeah, that'll do it. But where are the- oof..." Catching the silver case as it was tossed at him, the aide barely avoided dropping the vials tucked into his arm. Glaring at the back that was retreating out of the front doors, he shot an unamused look at the officer that bent to pick up the gun the man had left. "...remind me never to call them for a favor again. Come on, let's see if we can't sedate that bastard."
Arkham wasn't a too far of a flight from Gordon's station, and Batman, already having some experience with the place, slipped in easily. He found what had once been the Joker's cell, small, dark now that it was unoccupied, and very, very empty. He spent some time there, but found nothing to give him insight on the mad clown. As if standing in a room would let him see into the man's mind. Eventually he left, counting on Gordon to get the files for him quicker than Bruce Wayne could come up with a reason to visit they asylum.
Upon returning to Bruce Wayne's penthouse, Batman found it somewhat of a chore to get in. Officers were stationed on the ground outside of the building, some watching the sky out of boredom, but most with their eyes on their job. He managed it with a bit of timing, entering his own window, there were also guards stationed on the roof, and quickly making sure the they hadn't camped out on his couch or anything like that. As soon as he was secure in the hidden section of his rooms, he changed back into socialite gear. Suit, tie, same as he was wearing earlier that day, and as he thought up an alibi of his whereabouts, he mussed up his hair, loosened his tie, and threw back a shot of tequila that resided in his personal bar, purposefully spilling some on his shirt collar. He then took the elevator downstairs to where he found an exasperated head of security fuming with Alfred and half a dozen other guards. He threw back his arms in welcome, moving forward at a stumble, and said very loudly, "Weeell, HELL-O there!"
The guards' conversation ended abruptly; their expressions ranged from shock to indignation. Alfred simply looked surprised. Bruce couldn't tell if it was false or not. The head security guy spoke first. "Where the HELL have you been?"
Bruce swayed in his direction. "Me?" A cheery smile was plastered to his face though he simply looked, well, plastered. "Oh come on! Your life and company get threatened by a psychotic clown, you'd be lucky to be as...." he swayed a little too much, stumbling over his feet until the guard and Alfred each caught him by an arm, "drucking funk as i am." Alfred exchanged a look with the guard. "Come upstairs, I'll show you...." Bruce's sentence trailed into nowhere.
"I do believe Master Wayne has escaped your clutches for a, ah, night on the town," Alfred explained. "I'll see to it he gets upstairs alright." He started dragging the drunken billionaire back toward the elevator.
Finally away from security, Alfred coughed lightly at Bruce who was still hanging from his shoulder. "You can quit that now. You smell awful."
Bruce sighed and stood up straight. Apparently he was still not in the butler's good graces. "I've got a day to get him out." Alfred had to understand that he couldn't take the chance of that madman babbling about Bruce Wayne and Batman if he could help it. It was more than the company's reputation.... "Gordon's retrieving his Arkham files. Maybe if we just knew something about him....."
Alfred gave Bruce another one of his looks as the doors chimed open. "Good luck then, sir," he said shortly.
"Aw, shut him up, already!" When he entered the cell ward, he couldn't tell if the comment was made by a captive or an officer. Handing the gun to another officer, he primed one of the darts. Loading the dart into the correct compartment, the officer waited until he had an opening, then fired.
...it didn't seem to do anything but make him madder.
It took several more darts to put the man under - many more than it should have. Even then, everyone seemed reluctant to enter the cell and check the pulse of the bloody, ragged mess on the floor. Sighing, Gary put down the case of darts and his chemical vials, having one of the other officers open the door before cautiously sliding in. "...it looks like he'll be fine. His vitals seem to be normal."
The man at the cell door pulled a face. "...will you be wanting to clean him up, then, now that he's out?"
Turning back to the form sprawled across the dirty floor, the aide shook his head, shrugging. "...what would be the point? Just keep an eye on him and give him another dose if he wakes up. I'm going to talk to the Commissioner and see if we can't get him moved back to Arkham, or at least get someone from there here to take care of this nutcase."
A/N: Thanks for being so patient. Postings are basically limited by Loony's schedule, but I'll try to post the chapters as soon as we finish each section. I also have more of the soundtrack coming up (I hope you guys have been enjoying it! ;_; ) and will be posting some of my other fics for those who showed interest in them. Stay tuned for updates!