Pandemonium | joker fanfiction

Chapter 9

     I launch myself across the table, my hands finding Detective Bullock's neck. His eyes widen in shock as his chair tilts backwards, sending both of us to the ground. A delightful crack erupts through the room when his head makes contact with the hard floor.

My deathly grip doesn't falter, and I watch his veins become visible through his skin. He writhes under me while his body strains to maintain circulation; I think I'm smiling.

I wonder if someone will stop me.

It feels so exhilarating to think that I'm quite literally holding this man's life in my hands. I could kill him right here, right now. He crossed me, and now I'm crossing him. Except maybe I'm willing to go farther beyond the line than most.

All of a sudden, arms wrap around my torso and yank me up from behind. Disappointment floods through me. Before I can even think of fighting back, I'm slammed against one of the walls. I groan on impact but don't bother struggling. Whoever is holding me back clearly can overpower me easily; I can barely breathe with the amount of force they're inflicting on my back.

Without warning, my right arm is twisted behind my back painfully, and I hear the lie detector I'm still hooked up to crash to the floor. A hiss of discomfort escapes from between my teeth as I try to crane my head towards the mystery attacker.

"Mara," a familiar unrealistically deep voice growls in my ear. A chill of fear runs through my body.

Batman.

Even though he often works with the GCPD, he's a vigilante. He acts outside the law; he could torture me to death right here and no one would be able to do anything about it. Now I realize why my interrogation is so late at night.

But why would my case be worthy of Batman's expertise?

"Have a seat," he rumbles and releases his grasp on me as quickly as he took it. My arm falls to my side, aching, and air returns to my lungs.

When I turn around, he's already leaning over one side of the table, waiting for me. Detective Bullock has returned to his feet with one hand resting over his throat. Behind his hand, I can already see a bruise blossoming.

"Detective I've got it from here," Batman adds, his eyes never wavering from my face. The detective nods and leaves the room, clearly eager to get away from me.

I rip the wires still attached to me off and toss them nonchalantly to the side, remaining at a distance. It's funny how a week ago I would have been losing my mind if I got to meet the Batman. I suppose that's still true, but not in the way I would have thought.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"This was found on you," he says and places something on the table. I step towards it to get a better look, and his eyes follow me cautiously as if I could go rabid at any second. His wariness is all for nothing; I wouldn't be stupid enough to cross him.

I peer down at the piece of evidence before me and recognize it immediately.

The joker card, of course.

It suddenly clicks. Does he actually think I could have any correlation to the joker?

"Why did you have this?" he asks, and I can imagine his vocal chords grating together.

"It's a playing card. I play cards," I state simply as I try not to melt under his threatening stare.

He's just a grown man in a bat costume; nothing to be afraid of.