“So, to sum this all up, he’s your mortal enemy a.k.a the ‘immovable object’. He doesn’t like your jokes, rarely smiles and has a nonexistent sense of humor. He’s delusional, absolutely adores this city, and loathes you?” I ask, summarizing everything Joker had just relayed to me. He gave me a flat look, obviously hoping for some brilliant revelation about the Bat. Something to let him know I was on the same wavelength. And I was, to a degree. But this was just too much fun. 

“You sound perfect for each other!” I cheered, and he chortled at that, brushing some hair from where it had stuck to his forehead. His grease paint had mostly melted away, the skin underneath donning a healthy tan. I’d thought he’d be as pale as a vampires backside, buried under that paint all day. 

“He can be...a-nnoy-ing. I don’t think it would work out,” Joker wheezed, standing. I scoffed. 

“I bet he thinks the same thing about you, oh great and mighty, non annoying clown!” I bellowed, flipping myself over the back of the couch, nearly barreling right into Selina. Almost everyone else had left, going to attend to...whatever it is that they do. Only Selina, Harley, Bane and Joker remained, but now it seemed that Joker would be leaving too. 

Harley was dozing in the corner, clutching a burger bag tightly to her chest. Joker glanced at her from the corner of his eye, before heading for the front door. 

“You’re not taking her with you?” Selina asked, almost pitying the other woman. 

“She knows where the hideout is. I have...uh...things...to do,” the clown stated, straightening out his tie. 

“Where is that...exactly?” I inquired, performing a hand stand. I felt boredom creeping up on me, a rare occurrence. I didn’t get restless often, but when I did I was caught doing the weirdest things. 

“Now...why would I tell you?” he giggled, watching as I walked around on my hands. 

“Don’t then. I guess I could find you either way,” I said, righting myself. 

“Why would you do...that?” he inquired, halfway out of the door.

“Why so...curious?” I chuckled, jumping up to parade across the top of the couch. Joker stood for a moment longer before barking out a laugh, the chilling sound echoing throughout the apartment as he slipped out into the night. 

“I’m not going to be surprised if he snaps and kills you,” Selina muttered, throwing a moth eaten blanket over Harley. 

“That’s if he got the chance to,” I replied, pirouetting, and gracefully landing upon my toes as I reached the floor. 

“Where are you going from here?” Bane queried, stepping away from his spot on the wall. He hadn’t moved since I’d first entered the apartment - hadn’t talked much either. Sighing, I shrugged, sinking down onto the floor. He squatted down beside me, his eyes weary and bloodshot. The rogues probably hadn’t gotten adequate sleep whilst in the asylum. I on the other hand, as said before, did not need sleep, which meant I had a good 34 hours left in my system. I could go days without sleeping and function as normal. 

“I really don’t know. I may stick around town for a while. Get to know the city,” I said, and he nodded standing. 

“I must be heading back,” he sighed, pulling on his coat. It looked funny paired with his asylum attire. 

“I’ll walk you. Not like I have much to do,” I volunteered, hopping from the floor. 

“I’ll leave the window unlocked. Slip in if you feel like it,” Selina offered, releasing a yawn as she disappeared into what I assumed to be the bedroom. 

“That reminds me, how did you manage to scale this building?” Bane asked, as we exited and made our way down the rat infested stairwell. I would have thought it to be abandoned if not for the muffled conversations I could hear through the walls. 

“I have little...let’s call them ‘suction cups’ on the tips of my fingers. They are placed over the microphones. It gives me decent grip,” I said, sticking out my hand for him to examine as we walked.

“...Microphones?” he muttered, trying to see what was invisible to the naked eye. I laughed, retracting my appendage.

“Yeah, handy gadgets. It allows me to hear things through sound barriers. If you’re having a conversation in the room over, I just put my hand onto the wall and poof! The sound is transmitted to my skintenna,” pointing towards place just above my ear, “and your conversation is now our conversation”. 

As we left the complex, ghosting across the parking lot like two long forgotten phantoms, Bane looked to be in deep contemplation. I did not want to interrupt his thought process, so I skipped ahead to amuse myself, hand springing my way down the block. I groaned occasionally when my hand landed in an unidentifiable substance, wiping away the goo on the legs of my pants. 

I kept close tabs on Banes footsteps, backtracking when he made a sudden turn. At first he had called to me, but now he knew I could hear where he was going. 

“Last building on your left,” he sighed, and I sprang right up to the main door of the warehouse. It sat on a side street maybe three blocks from the harbor, the roof in relatively good condition and the windows mostly boarded up. Incredibly inconspicuous - and I mean that with no sarcasm. It was a truly well thought out abode. 

“Are you a machine of some kind?” He asked me, making no move to go inside. So that’s what he’d been burning up his brains about. 

“Psshh, no. I’m a genetically enhanced human being with some extra machinery thrown in. You’d be surprised how far technology has come - how much they are hiding from the people,” I stated, giving him an ‘obviously’ look.

“Are there others?”

“There were. Now it’s just little ol’ m-”.

Just then a weird feeling invaded my skull. It was a dull throbbing sensation, not painful, but slightly irritating. I lifted my hands to my head, probing my temples cautiously. It was a ridiculous notion, but it was almost as if my skintenna was picking up another feed...

“Are you alright?” Bane asked, eyeing me inquisitively as I scrunched up my nose, attempting to reopen the rusty connection. 

“Yeah, yeah. Fine...” I muttered, my heart rate spiking as a sound liken to breathing filled my head. The skintenna had made a connection...but with who? My accomplices were all de-specialized or dead. It couldn’t be them. Could it?

In my state, I had failed to hear the warehouse door creak open, only able to catch the sliver of light as it bled out over the concrete. I whirled, my mind still churning, only to be met with the gleaming barrel of an automated machine gun. 

I'm not crazy. I'm not. (Joker Fan-Fiction)Read this story for FREE!