Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope
Chapter Two

~*~

There wasn’t a single sound in the entire room except for the heavy footsteps coming closer and closer towards them. Michaela tensed with every step as if it were thunder storming in her ears. She trembled, clutching her bag in her hands to try and calm herself down. Perhaps if she was distracted by something in her hands, it would distract her from the situation, but so far, there was no such luck.

“I-it’s nothing boss,” came the voice of the gunman from the bus, shivering with fear and sounding like he was going to piss himself as the footsteps came closer. “W-we had to get rid of one on the bus, he came at me with a knife!”

Michaela listened, positive that the man who attacked the gunman on the bus did not have a knife, and she concluded that the gunman was obviously lying to cover his ass, but his voice shook so much with fear, it was obvious he was not very convincing. The footsteps stopped and Michaela listened, frightened and at the same time eager to hear the reply.

There was an exasperated growl that went out through the room. “You got rid of one…and now we’re done to 23-ah!”

“Yeah but boss it wasn’t my fault!” the gunman pleaded frantically, completely losing his nerve. “The prick, he came at me with-“

Three shots from a handgun rang out, sharply cutting off the gunman’s babbling. Michaela jumped and screamed, as did the others around her, and after a moment they heard the sickening slap of a body hitting the ground. Michaela started to breathe so heavily that she considered using her bag to hyperventilate, but she didn’t dare move. Nervous tears slipped from her eyes and soaked in the fabric of the blindfold. Others around her were whimpering, weeping quietly, but no one dared to say a word.

After a moment, Michaela heard a small voice growl. “Get the blindfolds off.” And a minute later her blindfold was roughly wrenched up over her head by a goon. As soon as it was off, Michaela opened her eyes and was suddenly blinded from the bright lights beaming down on her, and she blinked steadily to adjust her eyes to the room.

There he was, standing in front of them, dressed in a long grape purple trench coat and matching pants; purple gloves cloaked his hands, and his messy hair was long and greasy and a faded shade of green. But Michaela stared at his face, the face she’d only seen on television and the front page of all the newspapers. His face was covered with heavy, sloppily applied white makeup. Circling his dark, dark eyes were rings of thick black greasepaint, so thick that from her angle, she couldn’t see the whites of his eyes. And for the first time she really got a good look at his scars, ragged and protruding like swollen, infected flesh, slopped over with cherry red greasepaint, nearly reaching from ear to ear like a much exaggerated smile. He stood tall, about 6’2, but slightly hunched his shoulders. His presence invaded the room like a bad feeling, to all corners, so all eyes unveiled with the removal of the blindfold were immediately drawn to him, out of fascination just as much as out of fear.

Michaela could do nothing but stare at him; she didn’t even register the body of the bus gunman lying motionlessly on the ground, slowly spilling a pool of his own blood. She didn’t register the little piece in her mind that was glad to have seen the gunman go, and the other part that was horrified a second man had been killed that night right in front of her. It didn’t register that she could be next at any time.

At that moment, for Michaela, there was only the Joker.

Off down the wall to Michaela’s far left, a woman let out a terrified scream, presumably as her blindfold was removed and she set eyes on the Joker. Michaela snapped back to consciousness and was able to survey her surroundings. They were in a massive unfurnished room, all cement floors, walls, and ceilings, which was probably why it was so cold. She counted a total of eight masked goons armed with machine guns; one was trying to shut up the screaming woman by shoving the barrel of his gun directly in her face.

Michaela turned her eyes back to the Joker and watched him shift on his feet from side to side impatiently. Finally, after really shoving the barrel of his gun in her face and screaming at the woman to shut up or he’d kill her, the goon got her reduced to a quiet but erratic weeping.

Once it seemed he had everyone’s undivided attention, the Joker grinned widely, flashing yellow-stained, jagged teeth. “Good evening ladies and gen-tel-men.”

He shifted on his feet from side to side, black eyes sweeping over his prisoners. “Tonight you have been invited to…uh, partake in a very interesting social experiment!”

Michaela fought hard not to let more tears fall. Everyone knew that the Joker’s social experiments always ended with buildings destroyed and hundreds of innocent people losing their lives…always.

The Joker started to giggle. “Now, I’ve been, uh…out of town for awhile, so I just have to ask…has anyone seen the Batman?”

Michaela watched the Joker’s tongue slither out from his mouth and lick at his scars anxiously, his eyes passing from person to person, looking for an answer to his question. But after a moment of complete shocked silence, he continued. “Well we’re going to try and get his attention-ah.”

Somewhere off to her left, Michaela heard someone muttering a prayer.

The Joker was still giggling a bit, as if he was having too much fun in watching the lot of them squirm. “I’m going to inform Gotham of our, uh, par-tay, and we’ll see if Batman’s smart enough to play the game. And if he is, we may all go home alive. Wouldn’t that be nice, hmm?”

It made Michaela shudder. Batman hadn’t surfaced in six months, for all they knew he could be dead or could have left Gotham entirely. The allegations that he killed Dent were strong; if he showed his face, masked or unmasked, he’d probably be arrested for murder.

Someone down the line of hostages said what they were all thinking. “What if he doesn’t show?”

This didn’t interest the Joker. With a wave of his hand, he turned away. “Plenty of time for questions later.”

Presumably, “later” meant never.

At that, the Joker turned to one of his goons, who had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. At request, the goon fished into the duffel bag and pulled out what looked like a camcorder. The goon offered it to the Joker, who took it in his gloved hands, and turned it on. He moved it around so that the camera pointed in his face.

“Goood evening, Gotham, didja miss me?” He cackled a high-pitched, terrifying laugh, one that sent shivers down Michaela’s spine. “I see no one’s rolled out the red carpet for my arrival, but that’s okay, I’ve arranged my own, uh, welcome-home party!”

He took the camera away from his face and panned all along the wall, capturing the faces of every captive, giggling to himself while he did it. Michaela tried to hide her face but she knew he had captured it before she could look away. After he got everyone, he turned the camera back on his face. “But there’s a guest missing, the Batman! And I know my guests are just dying to see him, so here’s the plan.”

Michaela didn’t like how he said “dying” so intently. She strained to hear everything he was saying.

The Joker licked his scars while on camera, as though it was some sort of sick calling card. “Batman has 24 hours to arrive, and for every hour that goes by without him, someone will die.”

Michaela’s breath caught in her chest. Ah, that’s why he needed 24 people.

Joker smacked his lips and stuck his face right in the camera. “Starting at midnight. I’m a man of my wooord.”

He let out a loud, terrifying, high-pitched cackle and danced with the camera in hand. Michaela watched, frozen in fear; this guy really was crazy. Not only had he threatened their lives but he was delighted that all of Gotham was going to see. When he finished his chaotic dance, he gave the camcorder to one of his clowns. “Take it to GCN, I want it to make the 11 o’clock news.”

The goon nodded and took off out of the room, and Michaela disdainfully watched him go. She had a sick feeling arise in her stomach when she realized that all of Gotham would see that tape; they thought Gotham was free of the Joker and that he was locked up all safe and sound at Arkham Asylum but now they would all learn that he was back, and that he had hostages, and that people were going to die.

Roger was going to see because he always tried to catch the late news; he would recognize her instantly, even if the camera saw her for only a second, and then he would know that the woman he loved was being held hostage by the Joker.

Once the goon with the camcorder had left the room, the Joker turned back towards his hostages and gleefully rubbed his gloved hands together. “Well now my little television stars, I hope you all got to know each other.”

Michaela nearly scoffed right out loud and stopped herself just in time. She knew he was mocking them, but honestly, everyone was too frightened to even breathe, let alone say anything to the person sitting next to them. No one was going to meet their future wife or husband in this room.

Whether the Joker picked up on the sardonic tone in the atmosphere was unknown. He looked down the wall at everyone. “Cuz now we all have to say farewell.”

Michaela’s eyes widened. Say farewell? What did he mean by that? Didn’t he say that one hostage would go per hour so long as the Batman stayed hidden?

Luckily to “say farewell” didn’t mean to the Joker what it meant to Michaela. In an instant, the goons gathered to his side while Joker surveyed his prisoners. Michaela watched, unable to hear what they were saying, but the Joker pointed to the end of the line of hostages while whispering to the goon at his side, and then the goon walked towards the end of the line. Michaela stretched forward to see what was happening.

“All right, you four, on your feet! Let’s move!” The goon ordered, pointing his gun at them, and the last four in the line struggled to their feet and were led out of the room. Michaela turned back to the Joker and saw he was directing a goon to do the same on the other end of the line. For ten minutes, Michaela watched as five clowns led out different groups of the hostages four by four, until all that were left was Michaela and two others, a man and a woman, sitting on either side of her.

Michaela wondered which goon was going to order them to stand to their feet, but they were all conversing quietly with the Joker. The room seemed so huge without the other hostages. Michaela’s eyes wandered towards the doors as she wondered where the clowns had taken all of the other hostages.

It was clear they were talking quickly about the fact they had 23 people instead of the planned 24. Michaela’s eyes wandered to the body of the bus gunman, lying motionlessly on the ground a few feet in front of her. She grimaced when she saw footprints of blood leading away from the body.

Finally, after what seemed to be a lot of bickering, the Joker motioned for one of the clowns to leave the room, and off he went towards the elevator doors.

Suddenly a question came up like a light bulb over Michaela’s head: how had the Joker known that there was going to be 24 people on the bus?

She wanted to look at her watch to see the time. She figured it was probably about 9:00pm, so there would be two whole hours until that tape aired on the news. What would the Joker do before then?

The Joker seemed to know what was on her mind, because he shooed the other two clowns away from him, and glancing at the last three hostages, who were staring at him in wonder, he smacked his lips and licked his scars. “Well I guess we ought to be on our way too.”

The two clowns came towards the three of them with their guns held high and ordered them up off the floor. Michaela’s eyes were glued to the Joker; he turned his back on them as if he were contemplating something complicated. She continued to stare until one of the goons roughly grabbed her arm and forced her to her aching feet. She wondered if he would shoot her if she glowered at him.

One goon started to lead them towards the elevator, and the second walked behind them. “Come on, you three! Let’s move it!” yelled the clown from behind them, shoving the barrel of his gun into the small of Michaela’s back, causing her to whimper just a little. The two of them were leading them out of the room, and the Joker followed, absent-mindedly talking into a cell phone.

They piled into the elevator, except the Joker made a gesture with his hand for them to continue on; his face looked distorted and almost angry as he talked on the cell phone. The clown nodded, pressed the bottom for the main floor, and Michaela watched curiously as the Joker paced back and forth, talking quickly on the cell phone, before the doors closed and the elevator began to descend.

Michaela let out a soft sigh of relief. Despite the fact that the Joker’s presence was mesmerizing, it was always harrowing. At any moment, for no reason and all reasons, the Joker could just flip and put a bullet in your head. She knew the guards probably wouldn’t risk hurting any of the hostages, especially after the stink that was made about the man killed on the bus. Joker needed all 23 hostages for his threat on Gotham to be realized.

She knew it wouldn’t hurt to hold her tongue, keep her eyes to herself, and only respond when spoken to.

Michaela lifted her eyes up to see which floor they were descending when she saw a clown face out of the corner of her eye, staring at her. Uncomfortable under the gaze of the masked goon, she shifted on her feet and tried to pay attention to something else. She still had her bag in her hands; she wondered if she could reach her emergency stash of chocolate-covered pretzels without the goons seeing. She hadn’t eaten and was pretty starved, after all.

The thought of food made her once again think of pizza and of Roger, poor Roger who was probably going out of his mind with worry. Maybe he had gone to the police to file a missing person’s report, for surely they wouldn’t have heard the news yet?

Her train of thought was interrupted when the clown to her left zipped open the duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder and produced the black blindfolds once again. “All right you three, put these on and no peeking!”

Swallowing, Michaela took the blindfold from his outstretched hand and delicately put it over her head, tightening it so her vision was blocked and she was once again blinded. She stood in silence, waiting for the elevator bell to chime and then they would start to move again.

Finally the elevator stopped, and when the doors slid open, Michaela felt a hand grasp her arm and pull her forward. Her shoes clapped on more cement under her feet and she could smell gasoline and tar; they must have been in a parking garage. They were led across the garage and then Michaela heard the familiar sound of a van door behind flung open.

“Get in the back, all of you!” ordered one of the goons, and Michaela carefully edged her way forward until she could feel the door of the van and she hoisted herself up. Putting out her hands in front of her, she reached to touch anything that could give her a clue of what to do. Her hand touched a soft leather seat and she moved to put herself down in it.

One of the other hostages sat beside her, presumably the woman because there was a strong odor of perfume that suddenly clogged her nostrils. Michaela heard the goon push in the man, and then he himself got in the back while the second goon got in the driver’s seat and started up the van.

The van’s door closed and they waited for what seemed to be ages, completely blind, until they heard the passenger door open. Somebody got in and closed the door.

“Let’s go.” Came the Joker’s low voice, and the driver started up the van and they pulled out of the garage.

The ride was all in silence; Michaela bowed her head and let out a little sigh. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She was tired and she was scared, and she could tell by the erratic way the woman next to her was breathing, that she was feeling the same way.

“What do we do with the shortage, boss?” The driver asked calmly.

“Vance found a couple of…replacements.” The Joker hissed to the driver quietly, probably thinking that they couldn’t hear him in the back seat.

“That’s a good idea, boss.” The driver agreed, although he sounded pretty unconvinced. “That way we’ll have, like, 25 in case someone gets shot.”

“In case someone gets shot?” The Joker asked, and then he let out a roaring laugh, a high-pitched cackle, which made Michaela jump in her seat and made goose-bumps appear on her skin. She bit down into her lower lip, trying to tell herself not to be afraid. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to convince herself that she was somewhere else entirely; she was not being held hostage, she was not being taken to some anonymous location while wearing a blindfold, she was not being creeped out by the Joker’s cackle…

But it was all a ruse. She was on the verge of having a total breakdown. Then, knowing that the Joker probably wouldn’t tolerate crybabies, she’d probably be the first one to go out of the 24 of them.

The Joker’s laugh eased into a hearty giggle. “You crack me up, Johnny boy.”

The remainder of the ride was in silence; Michaela fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat; the overpowering stench of the woman’s perfume made her irritable, but the extremity of the situation they were in simply terrified her. She wondered where they were being taken, and furthermore, where all the others had been taken. Were they driven from the building as well?

Eventually the van stopped after what seemed to be an hour on the road, blinded and frightened. The clown riding in the back with them opened the door and shoved them all out rather unceremoniously, and then they were led at gunpoint across a long cement ground, most likely another parking garage, and then they were shoved again into an elevator.

This was all starting to feel very familiar. Michaela wondered which building they were infiltrating this time. The elevator ride took much longer than the previous one, and even though she had her blindfold on, Michaela had a feeling that they were in a much different building than the one they were in before.

The elevator stopped and they were pushed out. This time Michaela’s feet touched carpeted floor, and the smell of fine leather hit her nostrils, and the air around her was cool and humid. Where were they, exactly?

The clowns shouted at them to sit down and shut up, so Michaela sat herself down on the carpet, just in time for the blindfold to be once again wrenched from her face. She found herself in a small room with dark carpeting, with leather lounge chairs lining the walls, and a massive picture window to the left side, so she could look out and see directly into another well-lit office space. Directly in front of her was a rich brown oak desk, and on the wall above it was a large plasma screen TV. Next to the desk was a heavy set of double doors; who knew where those led? While Michaela took in her surroundings, one of the clowns went to work on figuring out how to turn the TV on.

The bell on the second elevator chimed, and the Joker wandered in, his dark eyes sweeping the room with a delighted look on his painted face. “Wow, this is niiiice”

One of the clowns hung over the three of them with his gun nestled lazily in his hand. Michaela especially hated the clown mask he was wearing because she couldn’t see his face and therefore couldn’t see his expression. She willed herself to relax and leaned back against one of the leather chairs, wishing she could curl up in its cushions and fall asleep, but this was no time to let her guard down.

“Hey boss, I got it!” shrieked one of the clowns, and Michaela looked up to see the plasma TV was starting to come on. Again she wanted to get a look at her watch to see the time, but she was too frightened to move. It couldn’t have been 11 o’clock already, could it?

The Joker wandered over to the TV and stared as the picture finally came on. It was a cooking program; the chef was making crepes Suzette in a big show-home kitchen. The Joker growled under his breath a little. “Find the news station.”

“Sure thing, boss.” The clown answered, and went to work on flipping through the channels.

The Joker began pacing on the carpet, and Michaela watched him with a hooded eye. She found it interesting that although they were his captives, he didn’t seem to take a particular interest in them at all. Even then, as he was pacing back and forth watching the TV, he wouldn’t turn to them and grin at them, or stare them down, or mock them, or taunt them or anything of the sort. He seemed mostly uninterested in them.

Michaela stole a glance at her fellow captives. The woman sitting next to her was in her 40s and had mascara stains all the way down her cheeks, and her heavy eye-makeup had melted in the process. Her face was red, like her eyes, and she looked worn out and exhausted. Michaela felt for her, but she felt for her even more when she saw that underneath a long coat, the woman was wearing a leopard-print suit, very tight and probably uncomfortable.

She was about to lean over and get a good look at the man that had been with them, when all of a sudden the elevator bell chimed and the doors slid open. Michaela watched to see who was coming through.

It was the third clown, and he shoved two men into the room, both wearing teal-coloured uniforms and white tennis shoes. The clown ordered them to sit down so they both threw themselves down into the line right next to Michaela. The man closest to her looked like he was about to cry at any moment.

The Joker finally regarded them with a bit of interest; rather, actually, he took an interest in the other two. He approached them and clapped together his gloved hands. “Welcome to the party, newcomers-ah!”

The one man, who was slightly older and balding, let out a startled cry and hid his face in his arms, which made the Joker giggle. The second one, a slightly younger man who looked more angry than frightened, watched the Joker’s every move with a stern eye. As Michaela watched him, she noticed his lip began to curl, as if he had the most unbelievable hate for the Joker.

That was when she noticed the logo on his uniform, finely stitched in black lettering: WAYNE ENTERPRISES.

Michaela’s lips fell open as a silent gasp left her. Of course it made total sense that they were in the Wayne building, what with all the expensive looking furnishings and decorating. She had never imagined, in her wildest dreams, that she would ever have a rhythm or reason to come waltzing into the building of Gotham’s most admired philanthropist and playboy.

But there were so many questions. Surely the Wayne building was on total lockdown. Surely the security in the building matched that of Buckingham Palace. Surely there were cameras, sensors, alarms, silent alarms, anything that would have GCPD come rushing to the tower to infiltrate and rescue the hostages.

Warily, Michaela spied the Joker, who was pacing impatiently in front of the two men that had just been brought in, as if trying to unnerve them. This wasn’t just a routine kidnap-and-kill-hostages-to-get-Batman-to-unmask-himself plot. No, he had been planning this…

Suddenly a shrill voice interrupted the quiet in the room: “We interrupt this previously scheduled program to bring you an important bulletin! This is Jack Ryder with Gotham City News.”

Michaela looked up at the TV, which suddenly had everyone’s attention, especially the Joker. He pushed aside one of his clowns to get a front-row look. There was Jack Ryder, looking pretty handsome and smug as ever. Michaela had never liked him; after his controversial radio show finally went off the air, he had turned to television to display his journalistic talents, for better or for worse. No one was convinced it was for the better.

Jack Ryder, however, looked fairly disdained. “One hour ago, Gotham City News received this videotape from an anonymous source.”

They played the video, and Michaela turned her eyes away. She didn’t want to see the Joker’s painted face pressed into the camera, nor did she want to have to look at the long line of hostages lined up against the wall.

Michaela grimaced uncomfortably as she heard the voice from the TV: “Goood evening, Gotham, didja miss me?”

The Joker, standing in front of the TV, started to cackle as he watched himself speak on the news. “Check out that guy’s suit, that suit wasn’t cheap.”

They all jumped in pure horror as he let out a shrill cackle that echoed up through the walls and bounced off all the walls of the small room. The clowns standing all around nodded their heads and made like they were laughing too, but Michaela figured they were probably just as frightened as she was. She crushed her eyes closed and tried to think of something else. She figured if she could close her mind, she could close her ears, and she wouldn’t have to hear anything more.

After a minute, the video ended, and the cameras cut back to Jack Ryder, looking very uncomfortable. “Ladies and gentlemen, the video you have just seen is very real. Once again, Gotham has found itself directly in the middle of a feud between the Dark Knight and the Joker, who, as sources tell us, escaped from Arkham Asylum nearly five months ago.”

Michaela couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The Joker had escaped five months ago and the public hadn’t been warned?

Jack Ryder continued. “Now, with 24 potential victims and no sign of Batman, we can only wonder: what will happen next? And now we will go to the studio for a closer insight on the situation.”

Michaela bowed her head and sighed heavily, while the clowns started congratulating the Joker on once again instilling fear into Gotham. Her eyes felt so heavy, both with fear and exhaustion, and she just wanted to collapse and fall asleep and forget that this was happening, pretend like it was all just a very, very bad dream…

But then of course came the worst of it.

“I am speaking now to…the Joker.”

Her eyes popped open. She knew that voice.

Michaela looked up at the TV and was met with Roger’s face. He was staring directly into the camera, but there was obviously an interviewer there with him, holding up the microphone for him. Michaela nearly burst into tears as she beheld Roger’s handsome face, his beautiful crystal blue eyes were full of worry, and when he spoke he was full of both determination and sorrow. Although she didn’t want to watch it, she simply couldn’t pull herself away. There was Roger, he was there with her.

The Joker moved forward, shoving one of the clowns out of the way so he could get a better look, as if something about this was very interesting to him. Because his back was turned to them, no one could determine what his expression was.

Hesitantly, but with some force, Roger’s expression tightened. “I am speaking to the Joker. You have someone in your…grasp who is very, very important to me.”

Michaela couldn’t help but smile. She felt she would burst into tears at any moment. Nothing says “I love you” quite like a solemn plea for your lover’s safety at the hands of a madman on a national news network.

But then, as Roger tensed, came the undoing. “Her name is Michaela Nichols, and I saw her on your tape. She is one of your hostages.”

Suddenly Michaela’s smile was gone, and she stared at Roger’s televised face as though he had betrayed her. But he had betrayed her in a way, hadn’t he? Up until now it seemed that the Joker was completely uninterested in any of his hostages. Now, this plea for her safety was only an invitation to create some havoc, a challenge to create havoc.

Roger continued. “I implore you, Joker, more than I can possibly voice, to let her go. I love Michaela Nichols more than anything in the world and you have to let her go.”

Michaela shook her head from side to side absent-mindedly, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. What the hell was he thinking?! Had someone talked him into doing this? Was it Jack Ryder who thought it would be great for ratings?

With a sigh, Roger finished. “You have the power to do the right thing here, and let her go. She’s young and vibrant and full of life, and I beg you, please, let her go. Do the right thing.”

And just like that, Roger’s face was gone and replaced with Jack Ryder, looking slightly sympathetic but nonetheless unimpressed. “Heartfelt words from a heartfelt lover-“

Jack Ryder’s voice droned away but Michaela could hardly hear it. She stared at the TV screen for just another glimpse of Roger’s face, but it never came. She wondered how on earth GCN had found him so quick, and how they had agreed to do a live interview and a live plea for her safety. She wondered if there would be more, other families and spouses that would do live interviews and pleas for the safety of their loved ones.

Michaela closed her eyes for a brief moment. Why, why had he forsaken her?

The Joker, who had been silent throughout the entirely of Roger’s plea, suddenly began to chuckle to himself, deep in his chest. At first it was a low chuckle, and then it quickly began to rise in his throat. “Do the right thing, huh?” He growled under his breath, trying to sound humoured but everyone in the room knew he was angry. “Okay…”

Michaela started to tremble as she watched the Joker turn around, a big yellow crocodile smile plastered on his face, and he turned to look at his three surrounding goons, and growled out the words that would forever be burned into Michaela’s memory and exist in her nightmares for as long as she would live.

The Joker smacked his lips. “Where is Michaela Nichols?”

~*~

Next chapter: We’ll see. The Joker’s pretty unpredictable, after all…
A/N: Wow…looong, and mostly filler. Hope you all enjoyed though. I just had to throw Jack Ryder in there. :P