Love, Lust and Explosives

I have no claims on any D/C characters - and I'm not making a dime.


Ero Sennin - Thank you again! Your reviews keep me excited about the story!
2zen2 - Thank you so very much! Action is a new thing for me, hope I don't disappoint.
Monk - Glad you're still reading!! This chapter is definately longer.
KrystalTheElvishHobbit - I'm a huge sap too!! Saps of the world, unite!
Majjic Mouse - Many thanks for the review! I am so pleased that you liked the first chapter. Loved writting it.
bubblegumdego - THANK YOU!
jokerfan25 - High praise ideed! Believe me when I say, I love my smut!
Riam the Wanderer - Thank you again - I promise some major naughtiness in chapter 5, and I will post it tonight
or tomorrow!

Chapter Four: "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire.....


The timing was finally right. Gotham was entering a holiday weekend. Hospital Staff were lighter during the holidays, and there were more visitors and charity groups coming in and out of the facility. The Joker had tried (with great difficulty) to keep a low profile during his stay, therefore, the heightened level of security surrounding him had slowly relaxed. He was being treated almost like an average inmate. The Joker had successfully lulled them into complacence. Although, he was still being avoided by most of the psychiatric staff.

The other, more recent addition to his escape plot was the only thing making the Joker a little anxious. He had offered to supply Violet with the necessary items to create one hell of a bonfire. However, he was completely flabbergasted, when she politely refused.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Stitches but, I’ve got that covered,” she had responded in an odd tone he couldn’t quite read.

Covered? The plan called for fire of an apocalyptic nature. Where was she going to get the supplies for that? As far as he knew, she never had any visitors. She certainly didn’t receive any special favors from the staff. He didn’t need her participation, in order to escape successfully. But with her help, the destruction would be utterly devastating, and he was almost panting with anticipation. The Joker had not felt so alive in quite some time.

This was one of the days when she was taken to lab just after lunch and was gone until the dinner hour. As soon as she was taken from her cell, the clock started. At the appointed time, Joker called to one the guards patrolling the hallways. “Hey, hel-lo, officer, sir…I seem to have found some-thing in my cell that clearly doesn’t belong here. Maybe you should take a look at it?”

The slope-headed lout lumbered over the Joker’s cell. “What are you rambling about ya crazy bastard? Shut up in there!”

“Honestly I can’t imagine where this came from.” He held his hand out in the center of the cell-door’s food slot. Between his fingers, the joker juggled a large gold coin. The guard stood, several feet from the door starring as if hypnotized as the gold flashed and twirled over one finger then, another.

The guard approached the Joker’s cell, “What are you up to, Joker.”

“Me? What could I possibly be up to? I’ve been in this cell for six months, my dear officer.” He replied in his most earnest tone of voice, as the coin continued to flip tantalizingly through his nimble fingers. “Perhaps you should take this. Ask around and find its owner….or whatever. It makes no different to me.”

The Joker stopped juggling the coin and held it out past the slot, balanced delicately between his index and middle finger - incredibly tempting bait. And predictably, his big ugly fish took that bait and was quickly reeled in.

Without another word, the guard came within reach of the Joker’s outstretched hand. He stood for a moment, staring at the coin, before reaching forward to claim his prize. Big mistake. In a flash, the coin disappeared, and the Joker seized the large man’s hand jerking it roughly through the narrow opening as far as it would go. He tucked the guard’s arm under his own and reached for his weapon. The Joker had prepared a very long thick piece of wire whose tip had been sharpened to a needle-like point. In one swift motion, he shoved the wire completely through the center of the shocked guard‘s hand.

The Arkham guard screamed in shock and agony, trying to jerk his hand out of the slot. Unfortunately, for him, the length of the wire prevented him from pulling it out vertically or horizontally. The injured and terrified guard could not pull his right hand through the slot, and was far too afraid to reach in with his left hand and attempt to free himself. Instead, he began screaming for help. For a moment, joker simply relished the act of violence and the scream of agony, forgetting that there was a motive behind this particular action.

“Now, now my dear of-fi-cier, it isn’t all that bad, but it could be if you don’t quiet down a bit.” And to illustrate his point, the Joker grabbed the wire where it immerged from the top and the bottom of the guard’s hand. With a snort of laughter, his gave a quick jerk, resulting in an anguished shriek.

“Y..you can’t get away with this, you son-of-bitch. Just let me go.” the trapped man managed through gritted teeth. When there was no response, he added, “Wha…what do you want?”

“Ok, I believe you’re beginning to understand your situation a little bet-ter. If you would be so kind to pass me your gun and then use your keys to unlock this door then, I think we could come to some kind of understanding.”

“You’re gonna need more than my gun and my keys to get out of this place, Joker. There are a lot of locked doors between here and the outside. Help is already on the………errrrrgh!!” He was unable to finish the sentence, as the Joker gave the wire impaling his hand another a vicious jerk.

“Yours is not to wonder why. Yours is just to do or DIE!! HA, HA, HA……UNLOCK THE DOOR, NOW!” he growled. Time was actually becoming quite important as it ticked on.

Without another word, the guard grabbed for the gun in his belt and passed it quickly through the slot. He then, reached for his keys and shakily fumbled at the lock, finally unlocking it with a satisfying clank.

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Violet sat in the lab, watching the clock and chewing her bottom lip with anxiety and uncertainty. As soon as she had arrived in the lab, they had injected her with some kind of dye that she assumed was for yet more imaging scans. Unfortunately, they had also given her something to sedate her slightly. Her thoughts were muttled, but she was trying desperately to focus. She was afraid to perform her part of the plan, but she didn’t want to let Mr. Stitches down. He so was excited and that actually made her feel what she thought was probably close to happiness.

The minute hand on the clock was ticking towards its mark so slowly, every second felt like an eternity. Laboratory personnel were milling around her performing various duties and ignoring her completely. “I don’t think I can do this,” she actually said aloud despite herself. One of the “white-coats” turned to regard her with a sickeningly smug smile. “Don’t worry, miss. You don’t have to do anything but lay back and relax. If you cooperate, things will go much smoother.” And with that, he turned his back to her.

At that moment, despite the drugs flowing through her veins, she felt a rising anger and it gave her just the clarity she needed. It was time. Violet allowed herself to hear the familiar roaring in her ears, and she summoned all the strength she could muster, preparing.

Sensing something, some change, the researcher in the white coat, suddenly stopped what he was doing and turned back to the subject of all their experiments. He looked at Violet with a sudden sense of apprehension. Glaring back at him, straight into his confused eyes, she muttered one word, “Run.”

__________________________________________________________________________________


The Joker stood on the outside of his cell with a gun in one hand and a set of keys in the other, and he was well pleased with himself. He began opening random cells as he pranced down the hall, and slowly, little by little, the newly freed inmates started entering the hallway. Confused, most of them simply milled around outside their cells, unsure what to do or where to go.

Finally, in response to the opening cells, three guards rounded the corner at the end of the hall. With one look at the jubilant Joker, gun in hand, and the growing crowd of freed inmates behind him, they turned and ran. They weren’t paid enough for this.

Now things would get a little tricky - he hoped everything else was going according to plan. He looked at his watch and gritted his teeth. It was late, late, late. What was holding up his lovely lunatic? Then he heard it: fire alarms. A sound sweeter than any Mozart concerto.

He looked back down at his watch with a crazed grin and counted down, “Three…two...one!” Just then, a deafening explosion shook the old Victorian building causing dust to rain from the ceiling. The Joker began skipping down the hall as another beautiful blast rocked the very foundations. He had to grasp the wall to keep his footing. “Wonderful!” he bellowed and screeched with laughter

His men had immediately begun flooding into the building through the cavernous holes left by the explosives. The Joker’s army of masked clowns was having a field day. They had been on hiatus for six months and, in a sense, they were being set free as well. Heavily armed with guns and grenades (only the Joker was allowed to weld the sacred knife), they shot and blasted their way through the asylum at breakneck speed whooping and hollering as they went. Interestingly enough, they met very little resistance. Most of the hospital staff were running from the building with no regard to policies or safety protocols

Several of the Joker’s higher-ranking henchmen were racing through Arkham forcing the remaining staff to open all the security gates within the facility. Smoke billowed through the hallways, as the Joker hopped over bodies and rubble and headed for the entry hall. He didn’t even hear the alarms anymore, just the repeated explosions, the sound of gunfire and the occasional scream of terror.

When he finally reached the massive entrance to Arkham Asylum, Bumbles (one of his clown henchmen, of course) was waiting. In his hand, he held the one thing the Joker had been yearning after for six long months: his knife, an object of unequalled beauty in his eyes. He snatched the object of his desires from Bumble’s hand and in a flash; a passing clown lay wide-eyed and bleeding at the Joker’s feet. “Sorry, ol’ boy, but its way past feeding time for my beau-ti-ful blade here - she’s practically starving to death-uh.” He cackled with unbridled glee.

All communication to and from Arkham had been cut off immediately prior to the first explosion, but the Joker knew time was running short. It wouldn’t be long before the authorities arrived. Violet had assured him that she would meet him at the entrance; of course, he wasn’t taking any chances and had instructed several of his men to go to the laboratory, the minute they had access to the building. Flames were everywhere, visibility was low and it was time to leave. His men returned from the lab empty-handed, and the Joker felt his growing anxiety turn to rage. They couldn’t wait any longer, and Violet was not there. “Go back to the lab and don’t come back without her!!” He growled at them through gritted teeth, with a white-knuckled grip on his beloved knife. Without hesitation, they turned back toward the smoke and rubble, when unexpectedly, another explosion erupted from the bowels of structure and a wall of searing flame blocked all access back into the main building. The Joker screamed with fury.

His men wanted desperately to retreat from the burning structure but were more terrified of their boss than the hungry blaze. They congregated around him nervously, waiting for the word to withdraw. “She’s just a girl, I barely know her. I don’t owe her anything. She isn’t even particularly important in the grand scheme of things. Why am I hesitating?” he stood there wondering to himself.

He was about to go in after her, when he caught a glimpse of movement beyond the heavy smoke and leaping flames. From the center of the inferno, Violet slowly emerged like a product of the fire itself. The charred remains of her uniform barely covered her slim body. She was covered in soot and her hair was a wild riot, sprinkled with ash and debris. She was dragging bits of the burned restraints and was trailing wires attached to the few remaining electrodes scattered over her skin. Her head was tilted down but her wide vibrant eyes were focused straight ahead, as she struggled over the rubble littering every surface. The Joker’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the expression on her face….dreamlike.

The Joker was suddenly aware of his own appearance. She didn’t know him by sight; she had never seen him. His makeup was smeared, his face blackened by smoke, his green tinted hair clung to his skin and his previously white prison garb hung on his lean frame, torn, blackened and streaked with blood. He presented a visage that nightmares were made of.

Violet approached the captivated crowd of thugs surrounding the Joker. But her eyes were focused only on him. “S…sorry I’m late,… Mr. Stitches,” she whispered as she fell forward, unconscious into his arms.

Whew, I'm worn out, not used to writing action stuff. I'm nervous about this one. Stay tuned, Chapter 5 will be posted tonight or tomorrow and I'm really going to try to outdo myself in the smut department! Thanks for reading! I'm having the best time.