Fan Fiction ❯ The Game We Play ❯ Double Or Nothing ( Chapter 29 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter 29 - Double Or Nothing

The floor of the Joker's cell was hard cement, and it had been the only comfort given to the man scheduled for execution the next morning. Why give him a mattress when he would only have use of it for one evening?

Trying mentally to sort this all out, the Joker rolled over onto his back, groaning at the feel of his limbs being made to strain against his restraints. He'd only suffered since that night he and Bruce had stirred up the recreation room, and his hopes of escaping and living longer were dashed away by the whispered information being passed along the hallways. He had less than twelve hours to come to terms with himself, and to admit that his life had meant nothing in the long run.

The impact he'd made would be there long after his demise... but what did it matter any longer? He felt unfulfilled. It seemed that even Harley had given up and left him behind, coldly ignoring the fact that he was being housed in such hellish conditions. He hadn't been allowed out of his cell in over a week, and the memory of Bruce was fading.

The memory of the last few weeks... the time he'd been given to climb out of his never-ending cycle of insanity...

It all washed away in the late minutes of his last few hours in Gotham.

Blood-encrusted lips moved to take in a breath, when behind the walls, he heard a noise. It sounded distinctly like a cracking bone. Opening his tired green eyes, the Joker waited and listened. Something fell, crashed. There were foot steps.

The determined, methodical footsteps approached, growing louder. Soon, the Joker could also make out the rustling of thick fabric, and the jingling of keys.

He saw the light to the magnetic lock on his cell switch off, then the sound of a key turning in the secondary lock. The thick plexiglass door slid open.

From out of the shadow, the Batman appeared.

"New game. Double or nothing." He said in his familiar, deep, commanding voice.

And then, oddly enough, he smiled.

The Joker was stunned by the sight of Batman... and then felt wary of it. Batman... was it alright to call him Bruce?

"Double," he whispered. "Are we leaving, now? Finally?"

Batman nodded, then looked around the cell, feeling a definite sense of deja vu.

Joker struggled to get up, holding his breath to avoid sounding like he was having trouble. His tighter-than-skin straight jacket restricted his movements, making him stumble a few times. "I'm so weak," he immediately offered.

"That's to be expected." The Dark Knight responded, then grabbed Joker's chin to examine his face.

"Damn. What did they do to you?" He hissed.

"Intensified my treatments," Joker mumbled. He kept his eyes downcast, remembering the last few days here.

A muscle in Batman's jaw twitched.

"Tell me later." He growled, then undid the Joker's straight jacket. "Come on. Let's go."

The Joker stretched a little bit, wincing as he remembered the pain in his left arm, and stepped in closer to Batman. He nodded quietly, and brushed back his dirty hair.

"Can you walk?" Batman asked, noticing he was having trouble moving.

"Supposing I can, probably not as fast as you." He folded his arms together and tried to remember to keep his voice low.

"I'll carry you." Batman determined, then whisked the Joker off the ground and carried him out of the cell, the pale man's frail body almost hidden beneath the billowing cape.

He carried him down the hallway and down the stairs to the nearest fire exit. The door was jammed from years of neglect, but it buckled open with a well-placed kick. Someone had probably heard that, but it didn't matter now.

He delivered the Joker into the moonlight, which was actually quite a bit darker than the bleak interior of the asylum. It was enough light to distinguish the black bat on his chest from the grey fabric surrounding it.

"I wore the one you like." He said, shifting the Joker in his arms so that his white face was right next to the black bat.

Joker's thin fingers traced the left wing of the symbol, quietly enthralled by the situation. He couldn't imagine being any happier... beyond suddenly recovering from his illness. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too, Jack." Bruce responded with undisguised emotion. That sentiment vanished quickly, however, as he pulled a Batrope from his belt and affixed it to the railing of the rusting fire escape.

"Hang on." He instructed, then leapt over the railing, sending them plummeting downward.

The Joker clenched his teeth together, closing his eyes as the wind rushed by him. "Don't kill us!" he pleaded, gripping the front of Batman's suit as hard as he could... which was laughably ridiculous.

"I don't kill, remember?" Batman pointed out. Then they reached the end of the length of rope, and were jerked to a stop. But only for a moment.

With a shriek of twisting metal, the rusty fire escape came away from the wall. Batman had figured it would. It was just step one of the procedure that would get them to the ground.

He let go of the now useless rope, and let them freefall for precisely four seconds, counting in his head as Joker screeched something at him that probably didn't matter. After the four seconds had passed, he fired off another grappling line, aiming for the bars covering the windows of one of the cells on the third floor of Arkham. Those bars, he knew, would hold.

"What are you doing?!" the pale-faced man screamed. His arms had found their way around Batman, and were holding on for dear life. He made a face and hid his eyes.

"Relax. I do this all the time." Batman muttered as they swung out in an arc under the window. He let them rock back upward on the other side, then back down, concerned about dropping down at full speed while carrying someone, even someone as light as the Joker.

"I can't make that," Joker hissed. "I'm going to be broken into hundreds of pieces! Look at how far that is!" He pointed quickly, only long enough to get the point across before latching onto the much large body holding him up in the air. "I'm a land person... not an air person. I don't have pointed ears!"

"I do." Batman pointed out, then concentrated as the ground started rushing towards them again. "Hang on."

"Don't drop me! Don't drop me!" Joker shook in fear and dug his fingers into the suit.

Batman chose not to respond, instead concentrating on the careful timing this manuver required. Letting go of the batrope at precisely the right time, he dropped about five feet to the ground and landed in a crouch, one arm holding the Joker against him while the other stopped both of them from falling forward. There was a moment of silence as his cape settled around them, draping over Batman's form and the ground surrounding him.

Joker didn't dare move for a long time, holding himself still as though he'd fall again if he let go. It was hard to put that kind of trust into somebody's hands that used to drop him over buildings just to make him beg for help. The very next intake of breath, however, he opened his eyes and let out a half angry, half terrified screech.

Batman stood up and put his hand over the screaming red mouth, fully prepared to get bitten. He hurried to the Batmobile, which came zooming toward them in response to the remote GPS homing signal he'd triggered.

Muffled, the Joker demanded to be let go of while he was hurried toward the Batmobile. As they neared the car, he remembered faintly the night Batman had come and collected him from the phone booth so long ago. The memory settled his nerves, bringing him sharply back into focus of the situation they were facing. He fell silent, and looked at Batman with large green eyes.

The Batmobile stopped obediently in front of them, its headlights casting a fifteen foot high shadow of the Bat on the wall of Arkham Asylum. The shadow started moving, then disappeared as Batman positioned the Joker in the passenger seat of the car, then ran around the back of it and got in the driver's side.

The engine roared immediately and the car sped off. It was only then that the guards that were still conscious were starting to get an idea of what had happened.

*