The plot definitely thickens!

And I agree with the poster above me who said your Bruce was excellent.

And could you please edit the title bar when you update? That way it'll be easier to remember.

 

Thanks, guys! Special thanks to all of you who've been reading and commenting thus far, and enabling this story to be the first thread in Non Star Wars Fan Fiction to reach Page 2 (for us 25 PPP people )! You guys are awesome.

[hr]

Part 5

The clock on the microwave read 7:38 when Bruce tossed his keys on the kitchen counter just after returning home from Selina's. He opened the refrigerator door and took a drink from the half gallon carton of milk, then shut it again.

"Welcome back, Master Bruce," Alfred said, entering the kitchen from one of the mansion's dens. He approached the sink and turned on the faucet, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up and washing his hands. Bruce was leaning on the island in the center of the room. "Did you enjoy yourself, then?"

"Yeah," Bruce responded stoically. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on top of the island and took a bite out of it.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Alfred grabbed the towel from the hook on the side of the island and dried his hands. "Shall I start preparing your supper?"

Bruce looked down at the apple in his hand. "No, I think this will do for the night."

"Going on watch?"

"In a few minutes." He held the apple in his hand for a moment, then took another bite.

"Something bothering you, Master Bruce?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well," Alfred chuckled, "I should say I know when something's the matter, taking into consideration the fact that I've been cleaning up your messes since you were born."

Bruce smiled, still looking at his apple. "It's just that..."

"Go on."

"Selina, she invited me in. You know, to her house."

"Quite right, sir."

"And I..." He took another bite. "I had to come up with an excuse to get back here. And I can't help but wonder if this, all of this... if it's going to be like this forever."

"You feel as if it's your obligation to protect your homeland," Alfred concluded.

"Yeah. I don't know if I'll ever be able to... be with someone, you know? To be... happy."

There was silence for a moment. "You know," Alfred began. "In the war, years ago, I served with a man. Oh, what was his bloody name... Anthony, I believe it was. Served with me in my regiment. He was a nice fellow, but he always seemed unhappy deep down. As if there was a hole in his heart that he couldn't fill, for some reason. You remind me a lot of him."

"What happened to him?"

"He got shot. Bullet, right between his eyes," Alfred pressed his finger to his forehead.

Bruce nodded, and looked down at his half eaten apple.

"The day before he died, he called death a great liberation. As if he wanted to die. I'm telling you this, Master Bruce, because I don't want you to end up like him. I think every man in this world deserves a fair shot at happiness, and I think you've found yours."

"And you think I should take it."

"You've honored this city's call of duty, sir. And now I think it's time to honor yours."

 

Alfred's story was amusing. Like Peng said, he seemed a lot like Michael Caine. And, I think it's amazing that you have been able to recreate these characters, yet avoid entirely copying the material from The Dark Knight.

 

The above posters have captured my feelings exactly. Another fine update!

 

Ditto. I get that feeling too.

Great job.

 

Really enjoying this story, you definitely have a gift for capturing dialogue true to the characters.

 

I'm rather enjoying this as well.

Add me to the PM list please.

 

Hmm, this is getting good, only made better by Alfred's...motivational speaking.

Great dialogue, the guy people should learn from.

-B-

 

I like your portrayal of the characters, Reynar.

 

Thanks everyone! Your comments are more than appreciated. And yes, Michael Caine is the largest influence on Alfred here, I'm glad you guys noticed.

Without further ado:

[hr]

Part 6

The Joker heard the gate to the cell block open as he lied on top of the cot, daydreaming about the day that he would escape from this rotten, boring facility that allowed nearly no creativity in life whatsoever. It was a drag living there. There was no freedom, but he had to admit that it was fun to mess around with the other inmates, get inside their heads. He was confident that he could eventually get the resident in Cell 3 to swallow his tongue. Such a malleable fool.

There was a knock on the glass of the Joker's cell. He didn't bother acknowledging them, he knew the process. Two guys with lab coats and two security officers would come in, put him in the restraints, pop that ridiculous mask over the bottom half of his face, and wheel him to the doctor for psych analysis.

The door to his cell opened, and the four men walked through along with the wheeled restraints. The Joker got up from his cot without a word and held out his hands, putting them together in fists. One of the security officers, a large white man with a thick black goatee and a small scar on his cheek, slapped handcuffs on his wrists tightly.

"Interesting scar," the Joker said. "How did you get it?"

"Shut up," the other officer demanded. The Joker rolled his eyes and smacked his lips in annoyance and looked away. He stepped onto the platform, and the two men in lab coats fastened the restraints, tranquilizers at the ready just in case the clown decided to do something funny. The unfriendly officer applied the mask to his face, and they wheeled him out of the cell and into the dark, gloomy hallway.

"We're taking you in for psych analysis," one of the lab coat men explained to the prisoner, not because the Joker needed to hear it, but because it was in his job description and he would be fired if he didn't recite it. The Joker blinked slowly. "You have a new doctor tonight, as well. Doctor Lee has fallen ill, and one of his interns has volunteered to speak with you in his stead."

"Heh," the goateed officer chuckled. "I'd like to do more than speak with this one. Troy, did you see the ass on her? My God, it's like staring at divinity."

"You're tellin' me," Troy said.

The Joker was pleased at this news. He always welcomed any sort of variety in his life, and this time a female was involved. To be honest, he was surprised she volunteered. He didn't think anyone in this place would take a chance to meet with him. Interesting indeed.

"Here we are," the lab guy said as they arrived at a door with the words 'Dr. Santiago M. Lee' on the front. He knocked.

"Come in!" the voice on the other side beckoned. She had a high pitched, almost childlike voice that immediately made the hairs on the Joker's body stand on end. It was so beautiful. Troy opened the door, and the goateed officer wheeled the Joker in.

The woman behind the smooth mahogany desk was wearing glasses, her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a delectably sensual suit, and was writing something down on a clipboard. Luckily for the Joker, he knew how to read upside down.

"Here he is, ma'am," Troy said. He removed the restraints, the goateed officer's hand hovering above his gun, the doctors' tranquilizers in their hands. He sat the Joker down in the cold metal chair in front of the desk with more force than necessary and began to fasten its restraints around his wrists and ankles before he was interrupted by the doctor.

"Um, those won't be necessary," she said with a smile. Troy looked at her for a moment, and then back at the other three men, confused.

"Uh, miss..." he started. "You know who this is?"

"Mmhmm!" she nodded. "And those won't be necessary." She clasped her hands behind her back and stuck her chest out in an almost playful manner.

Troy scratched his head. "Alright, well, if you say so, miss." He took the large ma

 

That smile. I can imagine Ledger smiling like that. Damn near-perfect execution and an interesting cliff-hanger. Overall, beautiful update.

 

Even though this thread is still on page one for all the cool people, good stuff, my friend.

 

Once again, job well done. Though, for some reason my favorite part was him saying he can read upside down. An interesting quality.

-B-

 

He was confident that he could eventually get the resident in Cell 3 to swallow his tongue. Such a malleable fool.


A little nod to Hannibal Lecter?


Good stuff.

 

I love this so far, keep up the great work!

 

The Joker grinned from ear to ear. "Pleasure."

Nice.

 

Very nice update!

 

HARLEY!!!


Great job!! Your Alfred was perfect. I could hear Michael Kane in my head the entire time.

 

Thanks for the great comments once again, everyone!

BigE, I'm glad you caught that Lecter reference. I'm basically basing the Joker's entire situation in Arkham on Hannibal, so it's cool that you're catching nods here and there.

Peng, you'll be glad to know that the Joker and Harley's relationship won't quite be as campy here as it is in the animated series. There will be some stuff in there that's a bit more mature and disturbing (though I'm certainly not doing away with the palpable cheerfulness that Harley exudes most of the time). Read on to find out the details.

[hr]

Part 7

Harleen studied the Joker for a moment through her thin framed glasses, resting her chin on her palm and drumming her cheeks with her chewed fingernails, which were neatly painted red. One could almost describe her actions as a rude example of staring.

"Well you certainly look cozy," the Joker said, mimicking the psychiatrist's position, drumming his fingers on his cheek along with hers.

Harleen suddenly realized what she was doing and quickly stopped, blushing despite her make-up. "Sorry," she said, laughing nervously. "I just, I've never been with someone so... so..."

"Horrid?" the Joker interjected. "Disgusting? Ridiculous? Insane? Chalk white with skin as dry as a skeleton in a sandbox dressing in drag? Honestly, darling, I've heard them all."

"Fascinating," she completed her sentence as if the Joker had said nothing in between. His eyes widened.

"Fascinating?" he repeated. "I stand corrected, ha ha! I clearly haven't heard them all!"

"How did you become like this?" Harleen wanted to know. She grabbed her pen and prepared to write on the blank sheet of paper atop the clipboard on the desk. "What happened to make you become so... like you are?"

The Joker sighed wistfully. "Oh, I... I don't know if I can tell you such a horrible story."

"It's okay," Harleen reassured him, swiveling slowly back and forth in the black leather chair she sat on. "I'm here. I'll listen." She smiled nervously.

"Well," the Joker thought for a moment. Or pretended to. "Oh... oh alright. You see, my mother was very, very poor. My father, well, he might as well have not been my father at all, considering his nasty... habits."

"Habits?"

"Oh yes, he was an awful person. He beat up on my mother all. The. Time. Said she was too sad. So one night, he took a knife and carved her mouth into a smile. He loved it when she smiled. I watched it all and then I ran to my room." He was telling it in a similar fashion to a ghost story. Harleen was mesmerized. "He followed, naturally. Banged on the door until I was forced to let him in. And then he took my head in his hands. And he said, 'The world is a joke. Smile.' Then he put the knife in my mouth. 'Smile!' That day scarred me forever." The Joker laughed hysterically. "Now I'm always smiling!"

Harleen's eyes were filled with wonder and awe. "You must be so strong, to continue to go on despite such a horrible childhood."

"Too many people try to make the world a better place," he explained. "I, on the other hand, try to make it... funnier."

"You shouldn't be stuck in here," Harleen spoke sincerely. "You're not a bad person. No, you're not."

"Oh, but I..." The Joker curled a strand of his hair with his finger. "They'll never release me from here. Not with my... condition."

"I'll help you," she said, standing up from her chair. "You don't have to worry, puddin'. I'll get you out of this place in no time." She walked around the desk and knelt beside him. Her eyes met with his. It was like a fire had ignited in her heart. She took his head in her hands, and leaned in close.

And she flew across the room. "What are you doing!?" the Joker demanded, leaping up from his chair and approaching her on the ground, furious.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, her lower lip bleeding. "I just wanted to... to..."

"To what?" he snarled. "If you have to explain a joke, there [

 

So, that was strange. Certainly captivating, but strange. I don't know anything about 'Harleen', but she seems pretty weird.

 

"To what?" he snarled. "If you have to explain a joke, there is no joke!"

Good stuff.

 

Aww Harley.

Great interview! Though I am curious to know if he's going to keep changing the story.


Great job!

 

Thanks!

And yes, Nick, Harley can be very strange indeed.

[hr]

Part 8

All the necessary precautions had been taken. Work schedules, camera locations, passwords, alarms, every security measure in existence had been considered and exploited so that the only thing standing between Catwoman and the five hundred thousand dollar jewels was unobtrusive air.

She wore a black leather suit that hugged her body tightly, allowing maximum flexibility for dodging whatever obstacles dared to stand in her path. To protect her identity, she wore a matching leather mask that covered all but her dark brown eyes, nose, and mouth. Over her eyes, she wore a thin pair of goggles that switched between regular, infrared, and night vision.

And now she stood inside the once heavily fortified jewelry store, now empty and completely devoid of sound and security. She knew the main area of the store was where all the inexpensive (compared to upper-class standards, of course) items were advertised. In the back, however, was where the real value lay. And that's where she was now, a disabled security camera locked on her person. She looked at it and gave it a cocky grin, albeit she knew no one would ever see it. It was just one of those things that made her feel accomplished.

She stared at the diamond encrusted necklace, studying it intently. It was beautiful in night vision, and she could only imagine what it would look like when it was properly displayed, glimmering in the limelight, teasing the spectator with its value. She extracted the claws built into her specially designed gloves, and traced her index finger over a portion of the glass case that protected the necklace. The small section came off, silent as the darkness, and she caught it as it fell, and set it on the floor. Then she carefully reached in and took the necklace off its perch, holding it in her hands for the very first time. She felt its weight in her hands, tracing her fingers over the jewels. This was her ticket out.

She carefully wrapped it around her palm and began her exit out of the jewelry store. The alarm that automatically activated when the emergency exit door opened was now disabled, allowing her to freely escape into the night. But of course, in Gotham City, nothing was that simple.

"Going somewhere?" came a voice from the darkness. There was no mistaking who it belonged to.

Catwoman closed her eyes in annoyance with a defeated sigh, switching her goggles to regular vision. She turned to her left and saw his blank white eyes staring back at her from the corner of the room. "You've been watching me this entire time," she said.

"I have."

"How did you know I would be here?"

"You're predictable in your unpredictability," he stated. "A bank would have been too obvious, you wouldn't go there. A jewelry store would be obvious as well, and I know that. But you came here for that reason alone. Because you didn't expect me to be looking for you in such a predictable place."

"So not only can you fly and turn invisible, but you're psychic too." Catwoman sighed. "Brilliant. So are you going to take me to the cops or what?"

"I will. But first, I want to know why you're doing this."

"What can I say?" She placed her hand on her hip. "I have an eye for valuables."

"That's not it."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot you're psychic. You and I both know Falcone doesn't like it when people steal from him. He also doesn't like it when they don't pay him back. Let's just say I don't feel like getting any more further on his bad side than I already am."

"There are other ways of paying your debts."

"You know, I read that the odds of you winning the lottery are less than the odds of you getting in a wreck on your way to pick up the ticket. Plus, I like doing what I do. Makes me feel alive. You know what I'm talking about, Batboy."

"Put the necklace back," he demanded.

"Ugh, do I have to? It's so pretty," she gibed.

"Now."

"Ooh, you're sexy when you're angry." Catwoman slowly walked up to Batman with a sensual step,