Life is so much better when you're dead

"So, how do you think, who should I treat first?" asked Sofia, pouring the fear toxin into small aluminum spray bottles. The long day of work had already ended, but regardless of that a lot of the goodfellas still remained in the restaurant, their festive voices seeping from downstairs into the dimly lit office.

"A regular wino would be sufficient, if you want my opinion. Just try not to do it in our vicinity," replied Mosheh, filling three shot glasses with Becherovka. "I suggest you desist your current activity and come join us. I know it's three a.m., but it's five o'clock somewhere," he spread his arms over the table he and Yaguchi were sitting at and nodded invitingly.

"I'm not sure if that's such a bright idea, with my PMS and everything. I might start asboing something awful, heheheh..." Sofia took a seat and reached for a glass. "Oh well."

"Drink it up, it's always interesting to watch you syndroming and drinking." A big grin lightened Yaguchi's face as he fumbled in his pocket for smokes.

"Well, I'm so glad you enjoy it, brah, it does make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Now, I'd like to propose a toast since today has been a very fruitful day indeed. We've acquired a severed finger and scarred Wayne's fragile little mind, goddammit." Three glasses clinked together. Sofia downed the shot in one gulp while both men restrained themselves a little, drinking in small sips.

"Share, chinaman," the girl extended her hand towards the cigarettes. Yaguchi held out the packet, letting Sofia draw one.

"What do we say?" he asked and reached for a lighter.

"What, hi kashite?" she muttered. The man chuckled in response, lighting the cigarette for her.

"That's straightforward, you brute."

"Isn't it? It was the first Japanese phrase I learned," Sofia inhaled deeply and let out a cloud of swirly smoke. "One of the benefits of being white and working for the yakuza. It gets you mad privileges, you can be as straightforward as you like."

"Still miss that job? I mean, body chopping?" asked Mosheh.

"Badly, my friend. If I hadn't met you two wankers, I'd probably be still doing that, I mean, it was a lucrative job. I was good at it, had a huge clientele, even my own business cards. Pretty rewarding experience, at that. And then one day it all just had to go fubar, didn't it... Pour another round."

The sound of a shotgun and shattering glass abruptly ended this conversation. The three of them froze, listening carefully. In a matter of seconds the sounds intensified as the shots started to come both from the ground floor and the outside of the restaurant.

"What the..." Sofia turned off the light, scuttled to the window and raised the blinds ever so slightly. She looked down, beckoning Mosheh and Yaguchi to come join her.

"Somehow I feel we should've expected this," said Yaguchi.

At first glance everything looked pretty trivial. A drive-by conducted by the book: a car, some men shooting at an establishment, some other men in said establishment responding with fire, glass, debris, racket and conniption. If it wasn't for the fact that the assailants were sporting clown masks and that their supposed make up covered leader was wielding a bazooka in his hand, it would indeed appear to be a somewhat garden variety situation.

Joker observed the progress with a bored expression, watching his henchmen fall to the ground with as much concern as he gave to the casualties on the other side of the bout. Hidden behind his van, he craned his neck every few seconds, assessing the situation. Finally, after a prolonged moment of silence, the clown stood up slowly and cased the scenery: splattered brains, puddles of blood, bullet shells all over the ground, the enemy dismantled, two of his men still unharmed. He nudged one of the bodies with the tip of his gray suede shoe. "So much talent, such a waste..." he muttered to himself and shook his head. Smacking his lips, he looked up and slicked back his messy hair with a gloved hand.

"Uh, hello?" he shouted in the direction of the blinded window. His grip over the bazooka tightened as he awaited the response with mocking anticipation.

"Should we shoot him?" asked Mosheh.

"Not if you want to bereave Wayne. He's our most prized asset at the moment, and the video is more significant with the bozo alive." Sofia's eyes followed the hunched, pattern clad figure sauntering towards the restaurant, the lackeys trailing his steps hesitantly. "You know... let's just bail for now. Think we can make it out the back in time?"

"We'll see," said Mosheh and darted to the door immediately, followed by his companions. The way through the kitchen to the emergency escape wasn't long, and soon enough they found themselves outside, breathing out white plumes of cold air.

"I'll take the Jaguar and invite him to a chase. I'm going left. You take the BMW, wait for him in some side alley and pounce him when we approach the intersection," said Sofia, her fingers tightening over a small aluminum bottle as she ran to the car. "Just, you know, don't kill him," she shouted through the open window, starting the engine.

Joker was about to shoot the bazooka at something, just to get out of the rut of this stalemate, when he heard a car drive from behind the restaurant and speed past him with a screech of tires. His head turned after the black Jaguar.

"Oh no, no, no, no, you're not free to go until we reach a mutual agreement," he hissed and jumped in behind the wheel of his stolen van, leaving his henchmen behind. Swiftly, he pressed the gas pedal and pursued Sofia down the empty street.

The madman groaned as the distance between them slowly began to grow. Although vintage, Sofia's vehicle must have been thoroughly tuned up as it could outrace his randomly picked model easily. He gave the bazooka lying on the passenger seat a quick glance and shook his head as if trying to shun the thoughts of simply blowing her up. Alas, Bruce was very clear on that matter. Apparently the video was well circulated--killing her wouldn't solve anything. He had to remind himself of that every ten seconds, and it vexed him to no end.

As they started to approach the intersection, it became obvious that Joker won't be able to rear-end the Jaguar by any means. He reached for his cell phone, intending to order some of his men to cut off her escape route, but he didn't get to type a single digit as his car suddenly got sideswiped by a BMW that seemed to have plunged out of nowhere. His head hit the glass and everything went black.


♣ ♣ ♣


"You guuuys, that was just beautiful. If I weren't so outrageously asexual, I'd say I wanna have your babies right here and right now," Sofia twittered as she got out of the Jaguar.

"That would feel kinda wrong anyway." Yaguchi giggled and lit another cigarette from the remains of the one hanging from his mouth. He went over to the crashed van and pulled the Joker out of it.

"He looks kinda floppy. Is he alright?" Mosheh gave him a concerned look. Yaguchi pressed his hand to the man's neck and nodded.

"Just knocked out."

"Okay, let's get him to a more secluded place. I need to vent." Sofia got back in the car. "Drive into that alley over there."

Yaguchi pulled the unresponsive Joker back into the van, placing him in the passenger seat. He sat behind the wheel and followed Sofia, Mosheh joining them shortly with the BMW, and as soon as they reached a safe distance from the main street, the engines went silent. Sofia grabbed her bag from the back seat and rummaged through its contents for a few seconds, finally pulling out a Noh mask of a young female. A smile slithered onto her face, causing her scars to crinkle.

"Get that sack of snot out here. He's gonna be my wino of choice," she exclaimed as she left the Jaguar with the mask on, rolling up her sleeves. "We'll see if Jonny's ways prove useful."

Yaguchi obediently pulled Joker out of the car and dropped him to the ground. A quiet groan came out of him as he hit the dirty concrete, indicating he was slowly coming around. Sofia kneeled next to him and slapped his face a few times.

"Rise and shine, you crusty son of a goat." She grabbed his suspenders, shaking him until Joker fluttered his eyelids and looked up hazily. He squinted at the sight of long red hair hanging over him, enclosing a white porcelain mask. Sofia shook him a little more, watching his eyes roll back and then shut tightly.

"Now... would you mind stop doing that?" He finally muttered reproachfully, his voice quiet and laced with pain.

"Not at all." She let go of him and let him hit the ground again. The haze began to lift from his head, and he gave the girl a closer look, his eyes fixing on her mask for a few seconds before wandering to the two men standing next to the black BMW who were watching the whole situation with grim amusement. The ringing in his ears gradually gave place to the pummeling, greasy sounds of music coming out of the car.

"How are we? Up and running yet?" asked Sofia, pulling his head up by the hair and checking his pupils. Joker raised his eyebrows and exposed his yellowed teeth, a high pitched cackle bursting out of his throat.

"Oh, just peachy keen," he rasped and swiftly grabbed the girl’s forearm. Sofia registered a glint of a knife in his hand before he lacerated her skin deeply a couple of times, blood starting to gush immediately. Unfazed, she yanked her arm the moment Joker buried the blade again, only deepening the cut with the struggle, but shortly she managed to free it as the madman still hadn’t recovered completely from the crash, his grip not as strong as he wanted it to be. She kicked the knife out of Joker’s hand, pulled out her gun and pressed it to his forehead.

"Not exerting yourself too hard, huh?" she chuckled, her blood dripping on his face making him spatter with mocking disgust. His laughter augmented as his eyes rested on the pale fat tissue protruding out of one of her cuts, though the gun was grinding into his temple firmly; her arm didn’t seem to be weakened in the least. "I’d rather not kill you either, so just keep still." He was about to retort, but without a word of warning Sofia sprayed something in his face.

With the first whiff of the substance, everything around him suddenly started to pulsate and shift, and the music coming from the car gradually became louder, more intrusive. All strength ebbed from his body in a matter of seconds, and he could hear a terrified gasp escape his mouth before his voice was silenced with his throat tightening.

"And the clown had something gone wrong... A mental shutdown, synaptic revolt..." Sofia sang along, pacing around Joker as he began to squirm, debilitated by the toxin. "And the clown had no idea why... Where were his ethics? Where were his manners?" She kicked him hard in the ribs repeatedly, smiling underneath the mask at the sound of his stifled cries of pain and terror. One of the kicks landed on his face, and she pressed her cowboy boot to his forehead, watching blood start to trickle down his painted mouth. Finally she bent over him to give him a better look.

Joker's pupils widened as he watched the grisly figure loom over him. He tried to look away, but strong fingers gripping his hair tightly made it impossible. The features of the mask blended together completely, leaving just a smooth, white surface without any distinctive characteristic, and he couldn't help but shake as it moved closer. The sounds turned into low, unbearable droning.

"And the clown became a jag-off..." Her voice sounded distant, yet uncomfortably near, monotonous and petrifying. Her movements were jagged and mechanical, and every little contraction of her muscles seemed like a sickly threat. He tried to worm away in vain as the figure bestrode him and two hands grabbed his head, smashing it down against the concrete a couple of times. Cold and prickly light exploded underneath his eyelids with every hit, and the thick blood filled his throat, choking him before he managed to swallow it on reflex. He started to wheeze, trying to draw in more air, but to no avail since Sofia's weight effectively suppressed his lungs, the irrational fear of suffocating only adding to his panic.

"Feel corrected yet?" Sofia growled ferociously, accentuating every syllable with another thrash. "You don't just go and damage my property, IT. DOESN'T. WORK. THAT. WAY."

"Hey... maybe you should stop, I mean, he looks like he's gonna pop any second now," said Mosheh with a worried hint in his voice. "Didn't Crane say they might die if you give them too much?"

Sofia let go of Joker and turned around. "Mosheh, I swear," she hissed. "Why do you have to be such a cockblocker all the time? Alright, alright, let's say he's had enough. Let's call Wayne now, two hundred dollars say he'll be here in less than fifteen minutes."


♣ ♣ ♣


Bruce was lying in his bed. Some insistent force kept pulling his eyelids up, denying his sore eyes any reprieve. He had already spent three hours trying to calm himself down and at least reach a state of semi-conscious oblivion, since real sleep seemed to be too much of a luxury for someone like him. Usually after seeing Joker he would fall asleep the moment he came back home and threw himself on the bed, completely spent and devoured. Tonight was different. He kept reliving their meeting, remembering the feel of the firm body yielding as he took him in that alley--the only real thing in the cold maze of the streets of this city.

The madman's words still sounded in his head. "By the time you wake up, everything's going to be just fine and dandy, darling..." he had said, laughing breathlessly, propping himself against the wall as he was trying to get a hold of his pants and pull them back on. After a few seconds, he had given up on standing, slumping down to his knees, still laughing. "Just fine and dandy..."

Bruce left him like this, the noise filling his head shutting out the meaning of it. Now it didn't want to let go of his thoughts. The sense of danger that stemmed from this promise sent cold shivers down his spine with every breath that he took. He knew something was about to happen.

A knock on the door cut into his pondering.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting up as Alfred entered the room.

"There's a phone call for you, master Wayne, from some young woman. She wouldn't give her name, but apparently, it's very urgent."

"I'll take it here."

"Very well, sir." Alfred gave his employer a quick glance. The old butler could tell something was horribly wrong, and whatever it was that gnawed at Bruce, it just kept getting worse. He had lost a lot of weight, dark circles around his eyes had become just another feature of his face, his hair longer than usual and messy since he hadn't been to a hairdresser in quite a few months now. With every passing day Alfred was closer to bringing this up, but every time he looked into Bruce's eyes, something caused him to back away and remain silent. Maybe he didn't want to admit that more than anything, he was simply afraid. He felt that Bruce had changed in more ways than meet the eye.

As soon as the door shut behind the butler, Bruce picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Yeah...?"

"Hey Wayne, listen here now, I have your booboo down here, and he's kinda not well, I mean, I've sprayed him with fear toxin... I guess you went and ran to him crying after our little meeting, did you not? But to prove I'm actually on your side, I'm letting you know, so if you have some magical antidotal potion and wanna cure his distress, come to--Mosheh, where the fuck are we? ...oh yeah, near the thirty-fourth street--you know, that little dark alley where they found those two headless hookers a year ago-"

Bruce hung up and sprung from the bed. In less than a minute, he collected random clothes and rushed to the hatch leading to his base which also served as a garage. As soon as the elevator reached the right floor, he ran to a cabinet where he kept various drugs and chemicals, including the fear toxin antidote. He grabbed a small glass container filled with translucent liquid and a syringe, and sped to the garage. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, and he didn't have a moment of hesitation over picking his Agusta MV 4 bike as his transportation means for tonight.

The elevator taking him to the ground floor took forever, but finally Bruce felt the cold rush of air on his face when he found himself outside. He started the engine and set off at full speed into the city, his body working on impulse as his mind was held in a tight grip of panic he had never felt before.


♣ ♣ ♣


"Well, lookie here. You're so indebted, Yaguchi." Sofia snorted. She was sitting comfortably on the unconscious Joker and stitching up her arm, her mask and a small first aid kit lying on the ground beside her. "Eight minutes, Wayne. You've gone and outdone anything I might consider any kind of concern for a loved one."

Bruce didn't pay any attention to her taunting. He got off his bike and hurried to the man sprawled on the concrete. "Get off him," he hissed. A mockingly frightened expression graced Sofia's face as she obediently changed her position to standing.

Bruce knelt next to Joker. He filled the syringe with the antidote, pointed the needle at the fold of his arm and pushed it in. His other hand wandered to his neck, checking the pulse. As soon as the antidote had dissolved in Joker's blood, his heartbeat steadied, slowly coming back to normal. Bruce sighed in relief. Finally, he took his eyes off the now relaxed, painted face, and looked at the grinning redhead.

"Now tell me Wayne, have we learned anything today?"

Bruce didn't respond. He felt his fists clench unwillingly and every muscle in his body tense up, ready to attack any second, but it didn't faze Sofia in the least.

"I mean, tell me, what the fuck did you expect? That I would actually let him kill all of my men, blow up my office and all in all treat me like a little snotty bitch? Honestly." She spread her arms in a theatrical gesture of disbelief and paced towards the Jaguar.

"Word of wisdom for you. Listen to what I say and there's profit in store. And by profit I mean not obtaining a new asshole. Think it through." She seated herself behind the wheel, giving him a condescending look. "I'm still calling you in the evening, you had better have some sort of apology prepared."


♣ ♣ ♣


Images flew through Bruce's head. The face of the girl who he was once certain meant the most to him. Her frightened voice. His own fear of losing her for good when he was speeding back to his cave, hoping it's not too late to give her the antidote and save her. Now, life in its irony forced him to relive all of this. Except now the person he had been desperate to save, the man he was now cradling in his arms, was the same man who had taken Rachel away from him. The same man who had killed her, ended her life with as much concern one would give to blowing off a candle.

And yet, he found his arms embracing him instead of pushing him away, a hand resting on his neck glad to feel the harmonious, calm pulse instead of urging to close and strangle him. Bruce opened his eyes. The chilly air brushing against his sweat-covered skin slowly swayed away the memories, and he finally decided to look down. He had never seen the madman so serene and helpless. Still unconscious, he instinctively nuzzled his face into the crook of Bruce's arm, as if drawn to the warmth. Bruce didn't know how long it had lasted before Joker slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He finally turned his head upwards, his dazed stare resting on the taller man's face.

"Have I actually gone to heaven, darling?" He muttered, a sly smile creeping onto his face, fighting off the pain still visible in his eyes. "What happened...?"

"You were poisoned," Bruce answered. He couldn't help but remember saying these exact words to her so many years ago. Adrenaline still rushing through his veins didn't allow his memory to wander any further, instead he indulged himself to the overwhelming relief upon seeing Joker regain his consciousness and brass immediately. "I gave you an antidote, you should be alright now."

"Heheh... who would've thought you could play the part of a knight in a shining armor so well... without the armor..." Joker snaked his fingers around Bruce's forearm, smiling at the feel of the soft fabric of his jacket instead of the cold kevlar plates he was so used to.

"What were you trying to do anyway?" Bruce still didn't feel like freeing himself from the other man's grip and getting up. He couldn't even find it in himself to give his voice a slightly colder tinge, feeling the adrenaline's effects slowly diminishing, leaving him relaxed and calm.

"What was I trying to do... Well, I just wanted to have a little talk with our mutual friend Sofia, maybe give her a piece of benevolent advice, but as you can see, she, uh... rebuked me." Joker aligned himself slightly to lie more comfortably against Bruce. "Besides, dear, I should smack you right now. I told you everything would be alright by the time you wake up... you didn't even go to sleep, hm? And, uh... you should've told me this wench is more resourceful than your everyday mobster."

"Of all people, I've always found you to be the most resourceful."

"Well, you know how it is... We're all allowed to have our bad days, don't we?" The madman giggled quietly. "Maybe you could help me make it all better..."

"I saved your life, that's as good as it gets."

"Oh no, no, the saving part... That's banal, y'know? It's seeing your concern, that's what I like best about the near-death experiences."

Bruce cringed. A part of him that struggled to retain some kind of sovereignty didn't like the way Joker uttered the word concern. It was too late to fight it all off, though. "So you've seen it. Now what?"

"Well... You could take me home, at least."

"You actually have something you call a home?"

"Actually, yes I do. Just four blocks away. You could exert yourself this much."

Bruce stared into Joker's eyes for a few seconds, but he didn't find any traces of mischief or cunning. Despite the audacious tone, his face was still giving away signs of utter exhaustion and pain.

"Alright. I'll take you... home. Can you get up?" He slid his arms under Joker's and helped him to his feet. The clown turned around, cupping Bruce's face in his hands.

"My hero..." he drawled with a big grin. His make up was completely ruined with sweat and blood, making his face look even more grotesque than usual, but it didn't really matter to Bruce as he let him wrap his arms around his neck, press himself as close as possible and kiss him softly with a satisfied purr. Bruce sighed, feeling his skin begin to tingle. Fighting the urge to return the affectations, he broke the kiss.

"Let's go." He motioned towards the bike. "I forgot the helmet, so you're gonna have to hold on to me tight."

Joker gave out a low chuckle, taking a seat behind Bruce.

"Now you sound like an up-to-no-good greaser from a biker movie," he murmured, leaning in and twining his arms around the other man's chest. "Guess that makes me the sweet, innocent girl with blond, curly hair that's gonna fall for it..." He rested his head on Bruce's shoulder and closed his eyes with a deep sigh, his grip tightening as the engine started. They drove away down the seedy alley, leaving the crashed van behind.