Life is so much better when you're dead

The visiting hours weren't strictly fixed in the case of Sofia Falcone. Considering herself a paying client, she insisted upon ‘doing her time on her own terms’, and the doctors could merely frown and shrug. She lay in her hospital bed, ensconced quite comfortably in traction and bandages with her associates by her side, the television set was on, the movie playing was Dolemite, and in all honesty one couldn't image better conditions to recuperate.

Yaguchi sat quietly on a chair right next to Sofia's bed with a laptop on his knees, typing order details into an excel sheet, glancing at the TV screen from time to time. Mosheh occupied another chair on the opposite side of the bed, watching intently and giggling. It was a little jarring, hence the unappreciative glares he received at a few minute intervals. Sofia couldn't laugh. She could barely talk, owing to the ingenious construction some overzealous doctor had affixed to her face.

"Would you kindly contain your whinnying?" she asked in a downy tone.

"Pardon me." Mosheh covered his mouth with his hand.

"Why are we even watching this?" Yaguchi joined the exchange.

"Because, my friend, one day we're all gonna end up like this," Sofia muttered and rolled her good eye.

"Fucking up motherfuckers? Or being the fuckupee motherfuckers?"

"The former."

"Oh. I see." He bowed his head over the laptop. "I thought we-"

"And, it's a fucking classic, if you have no appreciation for the classics you're dead inside, and I resent you," she droned. Mosheh reached out and patted her bandaged head appeasingly.

"It's okay. I'm okay," she said and shot him a glare. Then, she fixed her eye back on the screen.

"Hey guys," she started after a moment of silence. "How long do I have to sit here?"

"Didn't they tell you?" Yaguchi cocked his eyebrow.

"I don't remember anything of the past few days."

"Three weeks, and then the wheelchair for you, my dear." The man grinned maliciously.

"Oh, good. Oh, so fucking immensely good." Sofia choked down the laughter brewing in her throat. "You know what that means? You'll get to push me around."

"That's a good one," Mosheh interjected. "Almost."

"I'm getting better at this shit." She sunk into the screen for a while before she spoke again. "How's business today? I'm guessing everything’s just perfect?"

"Couldn't be better, you know." Yaguchi rubbed his temple and smiled. "You got the job done like a fucking champion."

"The world loves to collectively shed a tear or two for a poor girl paying for her father's sins. No wonder everyone's happy. Have you given some public statements yet?"

"Mosheh has, since you've got this shareholding partnership thing and they were all over him like locust. God, it was a thing of beauty." Both men laughed to Sofia's dismay.

"I wish to peruse this statement sometime."

"We recorded it for you."

"Great."

Mosheh's telephone went off. He retrieved it from his pocket and mouthed "it's the Batman" as he switched it to speaker mode.

"Good morning, mister Wayne," he started amicably.

"I have a question regarding the nature of errands Sullivan runs for you," Bruce said. Yaguchi furrowed his eyebrows and smirked. Mosheh blinked repeatedly. The man's voice sounded almost imperial compared to their last exchange. "Is trading organs one of them?"

"You mean human organs?" Mosheh asked tentatively.

"I mean human organs."

"I don't suppose so. Why?"

"A couple of Sullivan's roustabouts unwittingly led us to espouse this inference, that's why," Joker's voice provided the answer.

"Conference call?" Yaguchi snorted. "Could you give us some details?"

"From what we've heard, they seek out rare blood type donors, and in case of relatively long shelf life tissue they import the organs from the East and distribute here. In cases where ischemic time shouldn't be longer than a few hours, they do the harvesting themselves. They have access to the state's blood donor databases."

"They're in complicity with some hospital, it seems?"

"So it seems."

"And how did you come across this information, precisely?"

"Pure coincidence and a bit of cunning." Joker again.

"Our point is, if Sullivan has people walking on the streets, talking about kidneys, what does it tell you about the kind of men he employs?" Bruce asked. "This whole thing is one big liability, if you're concerned about your impeccable image."

"Point taken. This enterprise has to be relatively new if we didn't hear of it until now," Mosheh pored for a few moments. "Do you know where they operate?"

"No, but maybe you have an idea?"

"Sullivan's shipyard would be a nice spot for that. Secluded, relatively close to a hospital. Wanna have a crack at it?"

"If I go there to rattle them up, they'll get even clumsier."

"We'd have to shut them down abruptly so they don't have the time to get clumsier nor the incriminating evidence to clumsily handle," Yaguchi cut in.

"Wayne, you're a bright shining superstar and I adore you, would you take care of this?" Sofia asked. A brief silence followed.

"Listen darling, it's Sofia Falcone, the stalwart crime dowager talking to us," Joker whispered audibly enough.

"Yes I am talking to you, I'm sorry."

"No offense taken. I was kinda wondering if I should chip in for your funeral wreath, though."

"Oh shit, now you're gonna have to wonder about something else."

"What do you want me to do about this?" Bruce asked.

"You are the demon of the night, don’t ask me." Sofia grimaced as much as she could.

"Put them out of business, strafe them, leave no evidence?"

"You nailed it."

"What should I do about the evidence then?"

"Pass it to us, we'll take care of it. Collect all the ledgers and merchandise, and we'll set up an interception spot. And give my best to Uncle Sullivan."

♣ ♣ ♣

Joker was sitting indian-style on the floor, chewing on the corner of his mouth pensively while the TV set kept on blatting about his mighty need to acquire the latest generation of Power Juicer which would render his existence meaningful and beatify him until the end of his days. Bruce was sitting in front of him, turning the now silent cell phone in his hands. They needed to come up with a plan.

"First..." Joker started and paused for a few seconds. Meanwhile, the power of aggressive advertising had Bruce on the brink of questioning his own right to live if he dares forgo procuring the Juicer. "First, we need to make sure..." Joker rose to his feet, walked up to the bookshelf and came back with a large notebook and a pencil.

"We can't just prowl around, in a place like this there's always risk of being noticed and we can't have them at their toes," said Bruce. "We can't ask around, and we can't dawdle with the whole thing either."

"Yeah..." Joker licked his lips and put the pencil in his mouth.

"We need to put them under surveillance somehow, and we need the area's exact layout to figure out how to go about it. We could go back to my base, look up the satellite feeds."

"Why bother?" Joker furrowed his eyebrows and started drawing something in the notebook. "We can get the general idea right now." Bruce's attention shooed the infomercial and zeroed in on the man's proceedings. With astounding cartographic precision he drafted the simplified aerial view of the shipyard, complete with every single building and berth. Such display was a little hard to take in, but then again Bruce always knew Joker must have been nothing short of genius to execute his carefully laid plans of terror in such style.

"You have the whole city memorized like this?" Bruce asked.

"Mm-hm," Joker nodded and squinted over his creation. "Look here, here's the hull shop, here's the block shop and behind them on the outskirts is the office building, where in all certainty James Sullivan spends his work hours. I've had the pleasure to meet the guy, sleek like a flounder, god forbid he actually supervise his own business. If you're thinking of planting a bug for starters, this is the place." Joker circled the spot, looked up and smiled.

Bruce stared for a few moments and smiled back.

"You're positive about the accuracy of this?" he asked.

"Oh, by all means, break my heart and go check with a map." Joker scowled with disdain and shrugged exaggeratedly. Bruce was convinced he didn't have to.

"Let's say the whole thing's happening down there, when we hit we're gonna have to do a few things simultaneously," he said. "An axonometric view would come in handy beforehand."

"Well, I'm sure you have the right toys just for that."

"I do, but we need the right spots where we could inconspicuously plant them," Bruce sighed, thinking of his trusty sonar devices. The same technology he had used to capture the man in front of him he would now implement into a plan the two of them were hatching together. He smirked at the irony of it.

"So, let's get to the fun part, shall we darling?" Joker gave him a mischievous glance. "What do we do and what do we need?"

"Casualties, that's definitely what we don't do." Joker nodded solemnly. "Before we move in we need the precise location of their operating and storage places, we need to know what we have to take and what we can destroy, and we might need some help with the loading and transport. Every second is crucial." Bruce raised his eyebrows and looked at his companion.

"Leave the workforce to me, although you are aware in this area casualties might occur."

Bruce hanged his head and kept silent for a minute. The image of a burning carcass momentarily flashed behind his eyes and sent a twinge through his guts. What had to be done, had to be done.

"It's up to you," he said quietly. "I round up anyone who might be an obstacle, I give Sullivan a visit, have a word with him and secure the documentation. At the same time you're gonna have to take the... merchandise. And torch the place."

"When the police arrives to inquire about the explosion you know all of them must look squeaky-clean, that's the idea. There's no other way. There can't be any outsider witnesses apart from us." Joker tilted his head to catch Bruce's gaze.

"You don't have to tell me this." The man smirked dimly. "Like I said, it's up to you."

Joker scooted a little closer and hooked his arm around Bruce's neck. He patted his shoulder.

"You really trust me, don't you," he said with a corrosive look. The words seemed to be suspended in the suddenly leaden air. Bruce didn't bother to calculate anything in his head, even though it took him a while to give the answer.

"What's the point if I don't?"

Joker gave him his makeup-addled grin. Bruce really liked him better without the latex.

"Y'know what, I was wondering..." he began and licked his lips. "What if I told you that all of this was just a big joke?" His hand tightened at the back of Bruce's neck, and he kept staring, scanning for signs of doubt, but he found nothing. Without as much as batting an eyelid, Bruce smiled at him.

"I'd say it was the best one I've ever heard," he told him.

The next instant, he found himself fighting for air due to the sudden, albeit welcome weight of a madman pinning him to the floor, smothering him in a compulsive embrace. He chuckled and simply ran his fingers through the blonde hair. Joker pressed his forehead to Bruce's without saying a word.

"You're no fun," he purred after a few minutes. Slowly, he righted himself and pulled Bruce up by his shirt until they faced each other again while the television set urged them to rocket their abs from flab to fab. He cupped Bruce's face in his hands, not caring about the bruises. "No fun at all."

"Life can't be all fun and games. It's time for you to settle down," Bruce told him, smugly deadpan. Joker burst out laughing and slumped against him.

"Whatever you say, darling."

They sat like this for a little longer, arms wrapped loosely around each other. Bruce's eyes rested on an empty cereal bowl sitting on the floor next to a half-empty box of cookies they had bought that morning. The TV implored him to do something about his life, but there wasn't much left to be done. Not right now, anyway.

Joker leaned away a little and started clawing at his own face. The latex had gotten too uncomfortable. Bruce smiled, reaching up to help him. He didn't quite understand why, but he liked to uncover what was beneath.

"Oh. We still need to go out later today, hm? For the obligatory casing?" Joker said while Bruce tore another lump of latex off his face.

"Probably."

The madman sighed in exasperation. "I don't wanna put this on again. It's so tedious." He rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you make silicone molds?" Bruce asked. Joker's eyes lighted up, and he grabbed the other man's head.

"Ingenious."

Bruce laughed quietly. Apparently there was a trade-off to the ability to memorize each structure in Gotham City so precisely.

"It's still early, you know," Joker said and smiled. "How about we finally change those bed sheets?"

Bruce was surprised at the warmth this simple question spurred in him. Without thinking too much, he pulled Joker closer and rested his head on the man's shoulder. He hummed agreeably. As he closed his eyes, the incandescent image of the burning effigy appeared behind his eyelids for a few short moments until its meaning dissolved into soot.

♣ ♣ ♣

The gravel gave out a quiet, disgruntled sound as they circled around the shipyard. They kept a safe distance from any guard that could have been patrolling the area at this hour. The stars were faintly visible as the imposing lights of the city had little power over this area, allowing the shipyard the needed autonomy. And the welcome vulnerability.

"See? I told you, they're pretty lax about making those rounds, don’t worry" Joker said. They stopped and gave the premises one more assessing look. The black PT Cruiser was hunkering down somewhere in the dark, waiting for their return, but they took their time. Bruce handed his binoculars to Joker and checked the drawing they had brought along.

"You're checking it for the third time, you're bordering obsessive-compulsive right there, darling," the madman added after a moment of silence.

"Three times is bordering obsessive-compulsive?" Bruce asked absently and raised his gaze, moving his head to the sides and back to the Joker's drawing. "It's being sure."

"It's being insecure." Joker sighed and rested his chin on the other man's shoulder, sneaking a peek at the spots he was circling on the paper with a pencil. "And here, don't forget this right here," he half-whispered and pointed to a spot with a leather-clad finger. Bruce turned his face to him and smirked.

"I know. Insecure, huh?"

They had spent a nice, surreal and productive afternoon together. Bruce was catching on pretty nicely, all to Joker's terror and exhilaration. He didn't whine about preparing their dinner, he didn't hesitate at showing Joker some of the tricks of his trade when they made the trip back to his base to collect some equipment, he didn't show any signs of having second thoughts about anything at any point during the day. At this point it was evident, it had gone too far to even stop and reconsider.

It still sent shivers down Joker's spine, it propelled him in a craftily veiled, hysterical way, sharpened his senses and heightened his defenses, drilling holes in them all the same. He envied Bruce's adaptive skills, something he had prided himself in for a long time, in his own understanding of the term pride of course.

They slowly paced back to the car to get the sonar devices. They never got further away from each other than a couple of feet. There was a distinct fear of seeing the larger picture from the distance, but right now it was upstaged with the thrill before the job. This job was going to be easy and painful at the same time, but they had to start at something.

Picking the right moment to approach the net fence around the shipyard, they planted the devices in the yielding ground, unnoticed by anyone as planned. Spot by spot, they had James Sullivan's enterprise on a plate now. They retreated to the car before the watchmen came along for another round.

Joker sat behind the wheel, and Bruce took the passenger seat after picking up his laptop. He opened it and began to work his magic, starting the few minutes of focused silence finally broken with the click of Joker's lighter.

"C'mon, nag at me," he said seductively. Bruce looked up and turned his head to him, laughing quietly. He stared for a while before he obliged.

"You really should stop poisoning yourself," he said gravely. "Are you even aware of the dangers smoking entails?" Joker choked down a small outburst of mirth and nodded contemplatively, taking another drag,

"Tell me all about them,” he said.

"It can forever ruin the natural radiance of your complexion. Think about it," Bruce turned his gaze back to his laptop. "Is it worth it?" He leaned in a little, analyzing the sonar feed.

"You're convincing again," Joker said, laughing. He threw the cigarette out of the window and bent to the side to take a look at the screen. "See? Sullivan's in his office like the good virtual supervisor that he is." He pointed to a man-shaped silhouette and licked his lips, squinting. "Oh, look, he's getting ready to leave."

"Yeah. I'll go there in a couple of minutes to plant that bug." Another few moments of silence. "Look here." Bruce pointed to something on the screen. "You said it was a guest house?"

"Yeah, and there's a workshop on the ground floor."

"See this, in this corridor?" He circled an object with his finger. "Looks like a gurney to me."

"Well, definitely, that's one premium gurney if I've ever seen one." Bruce looked at Joker and cocked his eyebrow. The man tucked in his lower lip and gave him an eerie, endearing smile. "This must be the pantry", he said and motioned to a small room.

"Pantry?"

"Those three cases here, see? They use those for organ transport- oh, look, someone's gonna get a second chance tonight," he sneered as two silhouettes appeared on the screen, picked the cases and carried them out of the room. "And this must be the intensive care unit."

Bruce felt bile rise in his throat as he zoomed in the image of one of the guest suites adjacent to the ‘pantry’. It seemed equipped well enough to take intensive care of anyone.

"Alright," he said quietly, scanning every object inside. "You're going to have to take most of it. Some of it wouldn't burn quickly enough, some of it won't burn at all. The gurney, the table, drainboards, tools, everything. If they have anything in stock tomorrow, take it too. What are you going to do about the crew?"

"Same I usually do, why?" Joker tilted his head suspiciously. Bruce smirked.

"Nothing."

They looked at the screen for a while longer until they had memorized just about everything, including the number and location of all the forklifts on the premises.

"Are you stressed about something again?" Bruce asked, watching the other man play with an unlit cigarette.

"Darling, you give me the creeps every time you smile at me." Joker stretched his arms with a grunt, crushing the cigarette in his hand in the process.

"Looting and blowing up a shipyard just to kill your crew members afterwards doesn't stress you, but me smiling at you does?"

"Uh, yeah," Joker said flatly and gave Bruce an incredulous look. He wagged his hand, pointing at the other man. "You do a lot of outrageous things on a daily basis, don't you? Yet all it takes is a little visit to a designer bed linen store and you're soaking in cold sweat, scanning the hall for escape routes." Bruce burst out laughing. "Who's pathetic now?" Joker smirked victoriously.

"I never said you were pathetic, did I?"

Joker was giggling. Those exact same high-pitched sounds Bruce had heard every time he wouldn't get there in time to save one of his victims or prevent any other cataclysm of his doing. Now Joker was giggling, ruffling his hair, and Bruce was smiling, knowing he had agreed upon a plan including genuine murder, and knowing he would never get a good sleep again if it wasn't for the murderer's arms wrapped tightly around him. It was whole another level of pathetic, and it was going to bite him someday.

"I should be back in about fifteen minutes," Bruce said, zipped up his black jacket and handed the laptop over to Joker. It almost felt like his first endeavor ever--just a balaclava and his utility belt. It would suffice for this task, or so he would tell himself. He just didn't want to think about his reluctance to put on his armor right now. Joker blew him a kiss when he walked a few yards away from the car and turned his head for a second.

♣ ♣ ♣

"Am I speaking to mister Nissenbaum?"

"Speaking. Mister Joker, I presume?"

"Right the first time. Wow."

"How can I help you?"

"I just, you know, wanted to get you privy to what we've come up with and stuff."

"Why isn't Mister Wayne making this call?"

"He's fixing the sink."

A pause.

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's all backed up, we can't just leave it like this."

"Oh. Of course you can't. What have you come up with?"

"It might go down tomorrow. We have James Sullivan's office tapped and under surveillance, and tomorrow we'll know if he's expecting any guests on the premises. Y’know, guests with life expectancy longer than a few hours. If he isn't, we move in at ten thirty, should be done in twenty minutes and we'd like to meet you five miles north from the shipyard. By the river. I'll be sending a carcass laden, burning van into the water, y'see, and I don't wanna hang around with all those hospital beds and kidneys for too long because the river guard might find that odd if they just happen to come by."

"Naturally. May I speak to Mister Wayne?"

"Oh, I don't know, he's kinda..." Joker lowered his voice to a half-whisper. "He's kinda in a frenzy right now. Y'see, that sink, it-"

"Never mind. Please give me a call tomorrow around two p.m., we'll make all the final arrangements."

"Naturalment."

"You've taken some serious French phonetics course, haven't you?"

"No. Talk to you later, Gomez."