Those Who Fall Down the Rabbit Hole | Batjokes |

Continuation of Part 2

He threw Rachel out a window.

For a millisecond, Bruce stood there, perplexed, before jumping out to get her.

He was surprised, for the briefest of seconds, by the mad man's actions. What? He didn't expect him to kill people when he'd known— seen him do it?

Bruce's knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists, anger rising in him. In his mind he wonders why the reaction came so late, to feel anger like that towards a psychopath. Why before he'd been avoiding meeting him and now he just wanted to kill him. He might've asked 'why' out loud, as Alfred seemed to think he was asking him a question. Looking at various video footages of the Joker displaying on the screen, he shrugs.

"Well, Master Bruce, some men aren't looking for anything logical," he says, turning to Bruce and eying him curiously, "they can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with." Alfred briefly cuts eye contact with him, directing his gaze to something behind Bruce.

"Some men just want to watch the world burn."

| x |

When the boss is mad, a lot of things break.

Which is always a surprise, as there's not much to break in their current hideout— an abandoned old building. Today, nothing's being broken, meaning they don't exactly know what mood the boss is in.

Goon #2 prides himself in the knowledge that he knows the boss real well, so he knows the boss won't kill him. He knows that won't happen to him, it might happen to others, but not to him. He knows the boss real well. But even then, Goon #2 is smarter than to seek the boss when he is not sure how the waters are.

Contrary to popular belief, the others aren't as stupid either, this results in the never ending dispute when it comes to asking or telling the boss something. Nobody wants to do it. So they have to play rock-paper-scissors every time. Lucky for them, Martini's shit at rock-paper-scissors.

Outside of the room nobody wants to go in, Goon #2 and some of the guys wait for the unlucky man's return. Or maybe the sound of a gunshot, or a scream, whatever comes first.

Instead, Martini comes out after a couple of minutes, swiftly closing the door behind him before they could take a peek.

"So, how're things?" Goon #2 asks, things must be pretty well, as Martini's head's still on his shoulders. "Anything new?"

The other shrugs, "He's mumbling, talking to himself. More than usual."

"Shakespeare?" One of the new recruits asks.

One of the oldies, one that was lucky enough to not be in the bank robbery, bats a dismissing hand at him, "Nah, he hasn't been on it for weeks."

"Fuck, not Shakespeare," another one of the oldies.

They'd figure that one out a few months ago. Well, Martini had. The boy was always reading some book. It seems the boss' nonsensical murmuring wasn't that nonsensical after all. Which Goon #2 never thought it was, unlike others, Goon #2 knew the boss wasn't crazy. That's why he's here, not because of the money. He admires the boss. But it had been Martini who had identified one of the boss' low babbles as a mix and match of some Shakespearean poem. Not all of them were, but those are the only ones the kid recognizes. And eventually, they noticed that the days when fingers were being cut off, were the days they heard Shakespeare.

It was a good identifier for his mood.

"No," Martini cuts in. "It's about tigers, and symmetry or something."