Pandemonium | joker fanfiction

Chapter 11

JASON'S  POV

     In a familiar motion, I slide my keys into the ignition. The engine rumbles to a start underneath my shaking hands. I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't know what's going through my brain.

     Normally, the powerful feeling of being in control of a vehicle relaxes me, but not now. Right now, I have priorities. I can only afford to focus on getting to Harvey. I won't let anyone else die because of that psychotic clown. I won't let him win.

     I don't have much time.

     My foot slams down on the gas as I simultaneously switch on the sirens of my police cruiser. I whip through the twisted streets of Gotham, hands clenching the wheel. I don't want to think of what I might find when I get there.

     I can't be too late.

     As I drive, I realize Harvey isn't the only one who could die tonight; I could die tonight. The thought sends a jolt of fear through me.

     What if I die the same way Gordon did?

     It would be an honorable death.

     I swallow and shake my head at the dark thought. I know I don't mean it, but I can't help thinking it anyway. I'm not ready to die and definitely not by the hands of the Joker. I've barely done anything in this world.

Without my consent, my mind wanders to Mara. I imagine her frame slumped against the wall of her cell, and my heart hurts. I know I shouldn't feel bad. She has hurt people, and I did the right thing by turning her in. But maybe I still should have said a proper goodbye. I can't deny that I've been avoiding the GCPD.

I'm jolted abruptly out of my thoughtful stupor when an orange blaze enters my peripheral vision. I gape in horror as I take in the sight of a firetruck turned on its side, consumed in flame. My stomach twists, and a curtain of impending doom falls over me. Then, through the dread, a feeling of deep hatred arises.

     Does this clown think he can do whatever the hell he wants? Does he think this is funny?

     Grinding my teeth together, I hold onto this anger as I descend down lower 5th into the tunnel because it's favorable to terror. The dim lights cast an eery glow across the asphalt, and I think about what it would be like to shoot the freak myself. I imagine myself pulling the trigger; a bullet colliding with painted flesh. The image sends a shiver through me; I've only ever shot targets, never people. Of course, I'd be worshipped after that. I could save the city. I could be a hero. I could be the guy who was there when Batman was not. The thought fills me with pride.

     Just as my confidence rises, an explosive blast echoes through the tunnel, and I speed towards the sound before I can change my mind.

Soon, I can hear the squeal of tires and the loud pop of gunfire. My heart palpitates in my chest as I draw nearer and nearer to the sounds. I constantly switch lanes, speeding past the vehicles around me.

     Suddenly, I catch sight of the GCPD transport vehicle up ahead. I sigh in relief; it's not completely totaled. Dent is still alive.

Any sense of relief is wiped from me as my eyes train on the large eighteen wheeler keeping pace alongside the transport. I suck in a breath as a very recognizable rocket whizzes out of the massive truck and explodes somewhere at the front of the ensemble. Alarm flares up in my chest as a police vehicle somersaults across the road, crashing into a stone barrier.