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(no subject)

Who: The Joker and Re-l
When: Early evening (before Sirens)
Where: Industrial Sector
Summary: Re-l finds a madman who is steadily growing madder...
Warnings: Violence/Joker

The old mirrors in the abandoned apartment were smashed. He'd done it with his own bare knuckles, trying to destroy that ghoulish, grinning creature that had been sneering at him from the glass. A creature that was at once alien and familiar.

Now he lay on his back on the moth-eaten old couch, staring at the toxic blood that flowed down his chalk white hands. He felt no pain, only vague interest and a troublesome sense of detachment, as if the hands were not his own. Between his ears, two lifetimes worth of memories crashed together, now running parallel, now intertwining. He could not tell where one ended and the other began.

The old comedian folded his hands over his eyes and screamed into the dusty rafters.

This is it, old man, you're really coming apart now. You're losing your mind an inch at a time.

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She struggled to breathe. Her brooch pressed down into her windpipe painfully as she watched him, her eyes locked on his. The rage behind his eyes bore into her, effectively silencing her when she should have at least been trying to get him to let go. Luckily, she didn't have to; he let her go and she pressed herself back against the wall, coughing to clear her throat.

I'm a monster, remember!?

Re-l frowned and waited for him to move away before she spoke, her voice cracking once and sounding raspy at first. "Is that just your excuse to get away with everything you do?"

Monsters. It's always monsters, isn't it? Vincent hiding behind the mask of Ergo Proxy, Bruce behind his cowl, and Joker... What did he hide behind? His jokes, his laughter, because in reality something was chewing him up on the inside? Or was she really just chasing ghosts with him? What if he really was always going to be like this?

She caught sight of the blood on his face. "What the hell made you snap?"

His eyes grew distant and he sat back, shoulders relaxing.

What the hell made you snap?

He was not certain, that was the problem. At one point, a long time ago, he'd become the Joker. Or not. No, he had, because he could see it in his own flesh. Then what happened to the comedian? Why did he have a lifetime worth of memories as both? He could not possibly have crippled Gordon's daughter the same day he took his wife to Florida. It made no sense. And yet he clearly remembered both.

Was the date a lie? It must have been. But then what else had he only imagined?

Why was he a clown?

"I don't know," his answer was flat and humorless.

The fact that he's backing off, that he's calmed down and has settled himself for the moment should satisfy her. In fact, she should walk out of the room and call for backup. Maybe she will, too, in a few minutes...because she hasn't be satiated, hasn't gotten her answers. If anything, he's provoked more questions.

But he truly doesn't know. She's not going to get anything real out of him, not really. There is, however, one troubling thing.

"How do you not know? Don't you remember?" Joker, with the near-perfect memory when it came to his kills, to the people who wronged him? And he didn't recall what had happened? "You have no idea what happened to push you this week?"

This week?

Has it only been a week? Or a lifetime?

He looked into the middle distance and frowned. She was messing with him. A trick question.

When his gaze slid back to hers, it was feral.

"How far away are the rest of the cops!?"

His voice was low, demanding, and accusatory.

She should have expected he wasn't going to answer. Still, she had to try, and her annoyance was plain on her face when he switched topics. This wasn't going anywhere.

She folded her arms across her chest. "They're not coming...yet." She'd simply need to radio them once she'd gotten a moment, but she was hoping he'd come without issue first. (Fat chance of that happening, Re-l.)

"I'm giving you the chance to come quietly and get help first. You're obviously hurt; you need medical attention. And then you can go back to the asylum and someone can figure out what the hell's gotten into you."

"You call this hurt?"

Joker stood now, ignoring the blood on his knuckles. "I've been far worse and I don't need your pity!"

He advanced towards her with the prowl of a seasoned predator, venom in his eyes.

"How dare you pity me!?"

She stood her ground, unafraid, even with the height difference and the anger burning in his eyes.

"I'm not looking down on you, goddammit." She wasn't. She didn't loathe him or feel like he deserved to get away with what he did because he was some lowly creature. In fact, she didn't know how she felt about him, whether she felt sorry for him or if she simply felt regret that there was nothing to be done for him or for the city beyond locking him away. He can't, and won't, change.

Re-l settled her hand on her handgun. "Back off, Joker. Last warning."

He sneered.

"Or what? Or you'll kill me?"

A cackle rattled from his throat. Part of him wanted her to shoot. He longed for a burning wound that he could latch on to and define as real. Nothing else seemed real these days. Fantasy and reality were flowing into each other nonstop and it was not funny anymore.

"Then do it, officer."

He braced himself, giving her a clear shot. "Put a bullet in this wicked old noggin."

Edited 2012-03-21 02:50 (UTC)

Every single time.

She should draw the gun, point it to his pasty head, and pull the trigger. How many AutoReivs had she killed when they tried to rip her in half? How many Darkness monsters had she torn through? It should be so goddamn easy by now to pull a gun out of her holster and fire it. No one would blame her. The police could even cover it up for her.

But she thought of Vincent, begging her to do it just to get out of his duty. And she thought of Bruce Wayne and Miles Edgeworth, both who always flinched at the sound of a gunshot, let alone the idea of murder. And, again, she couldn't do it.

Her hand left the holster. "No."

Joker tapped his temple.

"That's your problem, toots, you never take the shot. All bark and no bite!"

He put an arm around her shoulder and leaned into her personal space so he could purr into her ear.

"So what's your sob story, eh? Why don't you ever pull the trigger?"

She scowled, trying to slip out of his grip. She didn't want him that close and she almost had the mind to pull out her gun just to hit him with it. As it was, one of her claws nearly reformed in an attempt to spook him off of her.

"I don't have a sob story. Everyone else does."

And she hated that. She couldn't do anything without losing the respect of those around her.

"I just respect life more than murderers do."

When she tried to slip away, his arm tightened into a choke-hold and he snickered. Respecting the sanctity of life was such an adorable personality flaw.

"Life ain't sacred, you know," he chirped. "Life's wasted on...," he waved his bleeding hand, searching for the right words.

"...The living. It's all pointless."

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"But listen to me! Nearly explaining the joke!"

With this, his grip tightened, and he started dragging Re-l towards the stained window.

"Everyone on this rock has a sob story. Wanna know mine?"

Nearly dragged up onto her toes at the hold he placed on her, Re-l twisted in his grip like an animal on a chain. Her eyes narrowed and she tried to kick him again to get free until he began to drag her towards the window.

She hadn't really thought that he'd actually try to kill her. Not now. But she still pushed to try and get out of his grip.

"Does it have to do with Batman?" she sneered angrily.

Joker felt the muscles in his arm groan as he pulled. Re-l was strong. Stronger than she looked....that was worth remembering.

"Actually, lovely, my problemo is that this old serpent can't find his head!"

I don't know where I begin and end

Once he'd managed to get Re-l far enough across the floor, he heaved her towards the window.

"Alley-oop!"

He wasn't actually going to toss her out that window, was he? Re-l's eyes widened as he dragged her nearly to the precipice, and then she made one last ditch effort to slide out from his grip.

It didn't help. Instead, it put her right at the proper angle for him to nearly through her through the glass. She shouted in alarm, hands going out to grab at the side of the window opening. It did little to actually shield her from the glass and she only succeeded in cutting her hands, but she did manage to grab hold of the ledge before she completely fell.

She cursed loudly at the glass in her palm. "Goddamn you, Joker!" she shouted, trying to pull herself back up.

Joker laughed at the expression on Re-l's face. Confusion and anger.

"Sorry, sweetie, Daddy's got a lot to do!"

He kicked out with one long, powerful leg, driving his Cuban heel into her knuckles. With each strike that name echoed around in the dusty corners of his fevered brain.

Batman
Batman!
Batman!

Batman was the key to solving his problem, he was sure of it. He had to find Batman.

Edited 2012-03-24 01:07 (UTC)

The first time he struck down on her fingers, she pushed out her claws in retaliation, to try and get a better grip. The second time, she was sure she felt something break in her hand. And the third time, with the glass digging into her skin and the numbness in her fingertips, she couldn't stop herself from losing her grip. Her claws raked down the side of the building and she cried out once more, pain shooting up her hands and into her arms.

Instincts took over. She twisted in the air, not unlike a cat, in an effort to land on something better than her back or her head. She succeeded, landing on her feet--

And immediately lost her footing, falling backwards, her back and head striking the pavement. It could have been worse, of course, but it was enough to stun her and send the world on its axis, spots flying in front of her eyes. Pain shot up her body. Shit--!

Joker watched Re-l fall without actually seeing her. His face clouded over with the dazed expression of someone who'd just survived an air raid.

He was thinking of the Batman. Something, something deep and almost animalistic, gnawed at his mind.

Yes! Find him. The Bat!

The Clown Prince-or maybe it was a struggling comedian-or maybe a circus ringleader-or an astronaut-pulled away from the window and vanished into the shadows of the old apartment. He left on his quest without leaving his usual taunt hanging in the air.

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