Chapter Text
It had been almost three weeks, and he was still at large. He'd escaped from Arkham a month after he was re-committed, and Gotham had once again plunged neatly into chaos. To make matters worse, the Gotham police force had officially and understandably condemned Batman, so neither party had the other's support.
They both fought alone.
And despite the fact that the Joker was still blowing up buildings and murdering countless people and terrorizing the city, nobody could track him down— until Wayne caught up with him on Highway 93 in mid December.
At 11:25 PM, Wayne was still cruising down the highway in his father's 1965 Ford Galaxie 500, listening to Penny Lane on the radio station that pandered strictly to Gotham's hippies. The song ended at precisely 11:28 PM, after which Wayne tuned into the stolen police scanner only to hear that the Joker had set the police station on fire and driven off in an armored car. Heading towards Highway 93. Which meant that Wayne had no choice but to pull over struggle into his spare suit in the back of the car and pray like hell that nobody saw him.
And when the Joker finally rolled up on him, they did battle like always and Wayne fought courageously in the name of Justice but nobody could deny that he was breaking down. He didn't even know what he was fighting for anymore.
And they were still there out in the cold clawing at each other's throats. The Joker was reaching for his AK again when Wayne pulled him up by his collar and forced him against the hood of the car. He really knew better than to let the rage take over but by the first punch he was fucked. He'd lost control. So for the next two minutes Wayne let it take over he stood in the middle of the highway, punching the Joker harder than he'd ever punched anyone. He couldn't stop when his breath caught in his lungs and his knuckles were split and bleeding inside his gloves.
He couldn't stop.
The Joker sat there and smiled and took it. He didn't fight back. Not even when Wayne backhanded him like he was a worthless whore and he crashed to the icy pavement.
It was when Wayne lost his breath and let up for a split second that the Joker pulled him down by his cape and pointed a hunting knife at his eye. Because the knife was about eight inches long and hovering literally a hair's breadth above his eyeball, Wayne had no choice but to lie still as the Joker knelt on top of him, pinning his arms to his sides. The Joker didn’t look it but he was incredibly strong; it almost always took Wayne by surprise no matter how many times they fought.
The Joker smiled at Wayne and pushed the barrel of a nickel-plated .45 under his chin.
You're a slow learner, you know that. He was breathing hard and his chest hitched when he inhaled and half of his face was completely covered in blood. And although the Joker never gave indication that he was in any sort of pain, Wayne had to smile because he really did look like shit. The Joker moved the blade of the knife so that the point was resting on Wayne's lower lip. There were sirens in the distance. See, i've been in this game a lot longer than you have, sport, he drawled, tilting the knife back and forth. But this isn't Monopoly money we're playing with.
You're monologuing, Wayne remarked. The Joker laughed. His trenchcoat was ripped open at the shoulder, revealing a dark bullet wound above his collarbone.
Why did the Batman cross the street.
What—are you high.
Not anymore. i took a bump before we left, but... the Joker sighed dramatically. The approaching cop cars cast the two of them in red and blue light blinding them.
Goddamn pigs. The Joker shook his hair out of his eyes. Anyway. i'm not ready to call it quits just yet. We can do this some other time, okay? Before Wayne could think of a snappy comeback, the Joker flipped the knife around and slammed the handle into his jaw. It hurt more than the last time he got stabbed. For a second Wayne couldn't even move and as he lay there, the Joker stood up and made a break for the car. Wayne scrambled after him but the pain in his jaw was crippling and he stumbled. Then the cops showed up and made matters worse. They always did.
He got to his feet as the Joker emptied two clips in the direction of the police cars and scattered the cops across the highway. Wayne didn't know whether to fight or take off, but he couldn't very well take the Joker down with a storm of bullets in his way. So for once, Wayne sat back behind the wreck of the armored car and watched the Joker work. There were about ten officers with five cars between them, with more on the way. But, like Batman, the Joker was accustomed to being outnumbered. In less than three minutes, the rest of the officers were either dead or wounded and the Joker had peeled out in a cop car, leaving Wayne sitting alone on the highway. He could hear the sirens screaming.
Shit. Wayne dragged himself to his feet. He really didn't feel up to taking on ten more of Gotham's finest. Not when he was worn out and his knuckles were bleeding and every breath he took was so cold that it burned his lungs.
So he ran.
i can't do this anymore. Wayne knew how dangerous it was to think that way. He knew it.